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and I can't stay at home ; so we are both of a ried in England some time, and lived among my mind-She's every night at one or other of the betters. garden places; but among friends, I am a little Neph. Thou charming, adorable woman! afraid of the damp; hugh, hugh, hugh! She what shall we do then? I never wished for a has got an Irish gentleman, a kind of cousin of fortune till this moment. hers, to take care of her; a fine fellow, and so Wid. Could we live upon affection, I would good-natured !-It is a vast comfort to have give your fortune to your uncle, and thank him such a friend in a family! Hugh, huyh, hugh! | for taking it; and then
Whit. You are a bold man, cousin Kecksey. Neph. What then, my sweet widow?
Kec. Bold! ay, to be sure; nonc but tie Wid. I would desire you to run away with brave deserve the fair- Hugh, bugh! who's me as fast as you can—What a pity it is, that afraid?
this money, which my heart despises, should Whit. Why, your wife is five feet ten! binder its happiness, or that, for want of a
Kec. Without her shoes. I hate your little few dirty acres, a poor woman must be made shrimps; none of your lean, meagre French miserable, and sacrificed ewice to those who frogs for me; I was always fond of the majestic: have them ! give me a slice of a good English surloin ! cut Neph. Heaven forbid! these exquisite sentiand come again ; hugh, hugh, hugh! that's my ments endear you more to me, and distract ine taste.
with the dread of losing you. Whit. I'm glad you have so good a stomach- Bates. Young folks; let an old man, who is And so you would advise me to marry the widow not quite in love, and yet will admire a fine wodirectly?
man to the day of his death, throw in a little adKec. To be sure !--you have not a moment to vice among your flames and darts. lose; I always mind what the poet says,
Wid. Though a woman, a widow, and in love
too, I can hear reason, Mr. Bates. 'Tis folly to lose time,
Bates. And that's a wonderYou have no When man is in his prime:
time to lose; for want of a jointure you are
still your father's slave; he is obstinate, and Hugh! hugh! hugh!
has promised you to the old man: Now, maWhit. You have an ugly cough, cousin.
dam, if you will not rise superior to your Kec. Marriage is the best lozenge for it.
sex's weakness, to secure a young fellow instead Whit. You have raised me from the dead—I of an old one, your eyes are a couple of hypo
crites. am glad you came-Frank Bates had almost kilied me with his jokes—but you have com- and have led their mistress into a toil, from
Wid. They are a couple of traitors, I'm sure, forted me, and we will walk through the Park; which all her wit cannot release her. and I will carry you to the widow in Pall-Mall. Kec. With all my heart !I'll raise her
Neph. But it can, if you will but exert it. My spirits, and yours too. Courage, Tom-come beauty, softness, and almost speechless reserve.
uncle adored, and fell in love with you for your along-who's afraid?
Now, if, amidst all his rapturous ideas of your
delicacy, you would bounce upon him a wild, SCENE II.—The Widow's lodgings. ranting, buxom widow, he will grow sick of his
baryain, and give me a fortune to take you off Enter Widow, Nephew, and Bates. his hands.
Wid. I shall make a very bad actress. Bates. Indeed, madam, there is no other way Neph. You are an excellent mimic; assume but to cast off your real character, and assume hut the character of your Irish female neighbour a feigned onc; it is an extraordinary occa- in the country, with which you astonished us so sion, and requires extraordinary measures; agrecably at Scarborough; you will frighten my pluck up a spirit, and do it for the honour of uncle to terins; and do that for us which neither your sex. Neph. Only consider, my sweet widow, that it.
my love nor your virtue can accomplish without our all is at stake. Wid. Could I bring my heart to act con- brogue.]-Fait and trot, if you will be after
Wid. Now for a trial — [Mimicking a strong trary to its feelings, would not you hate me for bringing me before the old jontleman, it he loves being a hypocrite, though it is done for your music, I will trate his ears with a little of the sake? Neph, Could I think myself capable of such if he loves capering- bless me! my heart fails
brogue, and some dancing too, into the bargain, ingratitude Wid. Don't make fine speeches! You men are
me, and I am frightened out of my wils; I can
never go through it. strange creatures ! you turn our heads to your purposes, and then despise us for the folly you
[Nephew and Bates both laugh. teach us. 'Tis hard to assume a character con- 'tis admirable! Love himself inspires you, and
Neph. [Kneeling and kissing her hand.] Oh, trary to my disposition: I cannot get rid of my we shall conquer. What say you, Mr. Bates? unfashionable prejudices till I bave been mar- Bates. I'll insure you success; I can scarce
believe iny own ears : such a tongue and a wench, with her lovers and footmen about her; brugue would make Hercules tremble at five- she's a gay one, by her motions. and-twenty! But away, away, and give him IVhit. Were she not so flaunting, I should the first broadside in the Park; there you'll take it for-No, it is impossible; and yet is find him hobbling with that old cuckold, not that my nephew with her? I forbad him Kecksey.
speaking to her; it can't be the widow! I hope Wid. But will my dress suit the character I it is not. play? Neph. The very thing! Is your retinue ready,
Enter Widow, followed by Nephew, three and your part got by heart?
Footmen, and a black Boy. Wid. All is ready; 'tis an act of despair
Wid. Don't bother me, young man, with your to punish folly and reward merit; 'tis the darıs, your cupids, and your pangs; if you had last effort of pure, honourable love; and if half of them about you that
you swear you have, every woman would exert the same spirit for they would have cured you, by killing you long the saine out-of-fashion rarity, there would be ago. Would you have me faitless to your uncle, less business for Doctors'-Commons. Now hah! young man? Was not I faitful to you, 'till let the critics laugh at me, if they dare. I was ordered to be faitful to him? but I must
[Erit with spirit. know more of your English ways, and live more Neph. Bravo! bravissimo ! 'sweet widow ! among the English ladies, to learn how to be
[Erit after her. faitful to two at a time—and so there's my anBates. Huzza ! huzza !
[Exit. swer for you.
Neph. Then I know my relief, for I cannot SCENE III.-The Park. live without you.
Wid. Take what relief you plase, young jonEnter WHITTLE and KECKŞEY.
tleman, what have I to do with dat! He is Whit. Yes, yes, she is Irish; but so modest, certainly mad, or out of his sinses, for he swears so mild, and 'so tender, and just enough of he can't live without me, and yet he talks of the accent to give a peculiar sweetness to her killing himself? how does he make out dat? if Words, which drop from her in monosyllables, a countryman of mine had made such a blunder, with such a delicate reserve, that I shall have they would have put it into all the news-papers, ail the comfort, without the impertinence of a and Faulkner's Journal beside ; but an English
man may look over the hedge, while an Irishman Kec. There our taste differs, friend; I am must not stale a horse. for a lively smart girl in my house, hugh! Kec. Is this the widow, friend Whittle? bugh! to keep up my spirits, and make me Whit. I don't know : [Sighing.) it is, and it merry. I don't admire dumb waiters, not I; is not. no still life for me; I love the prittle prattle ; Wid. Your servant, Mr. Whittol ; I wish you it sets me to sleep, and I can take a sound would spake to your nephew not to be whining bap, while iny Sally and ber cousin are run- and dangling after me all day in his green coat, ning and playing about the house like young like a parrot : it is not for my reputation that
he should follow me about like a beggarWhit. I am for no cats in my house; I can- man, and ask me for what I had given him not sleep with a noise; the widow was made long ago, but have since bestowed upon you, UR purpose for me; she is so bashful, has no Mr. Whittol. acquaintance, and she never would stir out of Whit. He is an impudent beggar, and shall be doors, if her friends were not afraid of a really so for his disobedience. consumption, and so force her into the air : Wid. As he can't live without me, you know, Such a delicate creature! you shall see her; | it will be charity to starve bim: I wish the poor you were always for a tall, chattering, frisky young man dead with all my heart, as he thinks wench; now, for my part, I am with the old it will do him a grate deal of good.
Kec. [To Whittlc.) She is tender, indeed ! Wife a mouse,
and I think she has the brogue a little-hugh! Quiet house; Wife a cat,
Whit. It is stronger to day than ever I heard
it. Dreadful that!
Wid. And are you now talking of my brogue ! Kerk. I don't care for your sayings—who's It is always the most fullest when the wind is afraid?
aesterly; it has the same effect upon me as Whit. There goes Bates: let us avoid him, he upon stammering people—they cant't spake for will only be joking with us ; when I have taken their impediment, and my tongue is fixed so a serious thing into my head, I can't bear to loose in my mouth, I can't stop it for the life have it laughed out again. This way, friend of me. Kecksey-What have we got here?
Whit. What a terrible misfortune, friend Reck. (Looking out.] Some fine prancing Kecksey!
Keck. Not at all; the more tongue the better, / of a second ; and my father kept my spirits in
subjection, as the best receipt (he said) for Wid. When the wind changes, I have no changing a widow into a wife; but now I have brogue at all, at all. But come, Mr. Whittol, my arms and legs at liberty, I must and will don't let us be vulgar, and talk of our poor re- have my swing: Now I am out of my cage, I lations : It is impossible to be in this metro- could dance two nights together, and a day too, polis of London, and have any thought but of like any singing bird; and I'm in such spirits, operas, plays, masquerades, and pantaons, to that I have got rid of my father, I could fly keep up one's spirits in the winter; and Rane- over the moon without wings, and back again laghi
, Vauxhall, and Marybone fire-works, to cool before dinner. Bless my eyes! and I don't see and refresh one in the summer. La! la! la! there Miss Nancy O'Flarty, and her brother,
[Sings. captain O'Flarty? He was one of my dying Whit. I protest she puts me into a sweat! we Strephons at Scarborough. I have a very great shall have a mob about us.
regard for him, and must make him a litile miKec. The more the merrier, I say—who's serable with my happimess. [Curtseys.) Come afraid?
along, Skips! [To the servants.) don't you be Wid. How the poople stare! as if they never gostring there, show your liveries, and bow to saw a woman's voice before; but my vivacity your master that is to be, and to his friend, has got the better of my good manners. This, and hold up your heads, and trip after me as I suppose, this strange gentleman, is a near lightly as if you had no legs to your feet. I friend and relation ? and as such, notwithstand shall be with you again, jontlemen, in the crack ing his appearance, I shall always trate him, of a fan-0, I'll have a husband, ay, marry! though I might dislike him upon a nearer
[Erit singing. quaintance.
Kec. A fine buxom widow, "faith! no acKec. Madam, you do me honour! I like your quaintance-delicate reserve-mopes at home frankness, and I like your person, and I envy my
--forced into the air,-inclined to a consumption friend Whittle; and if you were not engiged, -What a description you gave of your wife! and I were not married, I would endeavour to Why, she beats my Sally, Tom ! make myself agreeable to you, that I would- Whit. Yes, and she'll beat ine, if I dont take hugh! hugh!
What a change is here! I must turn Wid. And indeed, sir, it would be very agra- about, or this will turn iny head. Dance for able to me, for if I should hate you as much as two nights together! and leap over the moon! I did my first dare husband, I should always you shall dance and leap by yoursslf, that I am have the comfort, that in all human probability, resolved. my torments would not last long.
Kec. Here she comes again ; it does my lieart Kec. She utters something more than mono- good to see her—You are in luck, Tom. syllables, friend! this is better than bargain : Whit. I would give a finger to be out of such she has a fine bold way of talking.
luck. Whit. More bold than welcome! I am struck
Enter Widow, &c. all of a heap.
Wid. What are you low spirited, my dare Mr. Wid. Ha, ha, ha! the poor captain is marched Whittol? When you were at Scarborough, and off in a fury: he can't bear to hear that the winning my affections, you were all mirth and town has capitulated to you, Mr. Whittol. I have gaiety; and now you have won me, you are as promised to introduce him to you: he will thoughtful about it, as if we had been married make one of my danglers to take a little exercise soine time!
with ine, when you take your nap in the afterWhit, Indeed, madam, I can't but say I am a little thoughtful; we take it by turns; you Whit. You shan't catch me napping, I assure were very sorrowful a month ago for tbe loss of you. What a discovery and escape I have your husband; and that you could dry up your made; I am in a sweat with the thought of my tears so soon naturally makes me a little danger!
Kec. I protest, cousin, there goes my wife, Wid. Indeed, I could dry up my tears for a and her friend, Mr. Mac Brawn. What a fine dozen husbands when I was sure of having a tir- stately couple they are! I must after them, and teenth like Mr. Whittol: that's very natural, have a laugh with them—now they giggle and sure, both in England and Dublin, too! walk quick, that I mayn't overtake them. Ma
Kec. She won't die of a consumption; she dam, your servant. You're a happy man, Tom ! has fine full-toned voice, and you'll be very Keep up your spirits, old boy! Hugh! hugh!-happy, Tom !– Hugh! hugh!
who's afraid !
(Erit. Whit. O yes, very happy:
Wid. I know Mr. Mac Brawn extremely well. Wid. But come, don't let us be melancholy He was very intimate at our house in my first before the time: I am sure I have been moped husband's time; a great comfort he was to me, up for a year and a half-I was obliged to to be sure! He would very often leave his claret mourn for my first husband, that I might be sure and companions for a little conversation with
me: He was bred at the Dublin university ;- Wid. I'll rattle them away like smoke; there and, being a very deep scholar, has fine talents are no vapours where I come. I hate
your for a tate a tate.
duinps, and your nerves, and your megrims 5 Whit. She knows him, too! I shall have my and I had much rather break your rest with house over-run with the Mac Brawns, O'Shoul- a little racketting, than let any thing get into ders, and the blood of the Backwells : Lord your head that should not be there, Mr. Whithave mercy upon me!
tol. Wid. Pray, Mr. Whittol, is that poor spindle- Whit. I will take care that nothing shall be in legged crater of a cousin of yours lately married ? my head, but what ought be there: What a ha, ha, ha! I don't pity the poor crater his wife, deliverance !
[Aside. for that agreable cough of his will soon reward Wid. [Looking at her watch.] Bless me! her for all her sufferings.
how the hours of the clock creep away when Whit. What a delivery! a reprieve before the we are plased with our company! But I must knot was tied !
[Aside. lave you, for there are half a hundred people Wid. Are you unwell, Mr. Whittol? I should waiting for me to pick your pocket, Mr. Whitbe sorry you wou!d fall sick before the happy tol. And there is my own brother, lieutenant day. Your being in danger afterwards, would O'Neale, is to arrive this morning; and he is so be a great consolation to me, because I should like me, you would not know us asunder when bave the pleasure of nursing you myself. we are together. You will be very fond of
Whit. I hope never to give you that trouble, him, poor lad! He lives by his wits, as you do madam.
by your fortune, and so you may assist one anoWid. No trouble at all, at all! I assure you, ther. Mr. Whittol, your obedient, 'till we meet sir, from my soul, that I shall take great delight at the pantaon. Follow me, Poinpey! and in the occasion.
Skips, do you follow him. Whit. Indeed, madam, I believe it.
Pom. The Baccararo white-inan no let blacky Wid. I dou't care bow soon; the sooner the boy go first after you, missis; they pull and better; and the more danger the more honour. pinch me. I spake from my heart.
Foot. It is a shame, your ladyship, that a Whit. And so do I from mine, madam. black negro should take place of English chris
[Sighs. tians—We can't follow him, indeed. Wid. But don't let us think of future plea- Wid. Then you may follow one another out sure, and neglect the present satisfaction. My of my sarvice: if you follow me, you shall folmantua-maker is waiting for me to choose my low him, for he shall go before me: Can't I clothes, in which I shal] forget the sorrows of make him your superior, as the laws of the land Mrs. Brady in the joys of Mrs. Whittol. Though have made him your equal! therefore, resign I have no fortune myself, I shall bring a tolera- as fast as you plase ; you shan't oppose governble one to you, in debts, Mr. Whittol; and ment, and keep your places, too; that is not which I will pay you tinfold in tinderness: good politics in England or Ireland either; so, Your deep purse, and my open heart, will make come along, Pompey, be after going before us the envy of the little grate ones, and the me-Mr. Whittol, most tinderly yours. grate little ones: the people of quality, with no
[Erit. souls, and grate souls with no cash at all. I Whit. Most tinderly yours! (Minicks her.] hope you'll meet me at the pantaon this even- - Ecod, I believe you are, and any body's else. ing. Lady Rantiton, and her daughter Miss-0, what an escape have I had! But how Nettledownl
, and Nancy Tittup, with half a shall I clear myself of this business! I'll serve dozen Maccaronies, and two Savoury Vivers, her as I would bad money, put her off into other are to take me there; and we propose a grate hands: My nephew is fool enough to be in love deal of chat and inerriment, and dancing all with her, and if I give him a fortune, he'll munt, and all other kind of recreations. I am take the good and the bad together–He shall do quite another kind of a crater, now I am a bird so, or starve. I'll send for Bates directly, conin the fields: I can junket about a week to fess my folly, ask his pardon, send him to my gether: I have a fine constitution, and am nephew, write and declare off with the widow, never molested with your pasty vapours. Are and so get rid of her tinderness as fast as I you ever troubled with vapours, Mr. Whittol ? | can.
(Erit. Whit. A little now and then, madam.
SCENE I.-A room in WHITTLE's house. Bates. The demon of discord has been among
you, and has untuned the whole family; you Enter Bates and Nephew,
have screwed him too high: the young man is Neph. [Tuking him by the hand.] We are out of his senses, I think: he stares and mopes bound to you for ever, Mr. Bates; I can say no about, and sighs-looks at me, indeed, but gives more; words but ill express the real feelings of very absurd answers. I don't like him. the heart.
Whit. What's the matter, think you? Butes. I know you are a good lad, or I would Bates. What I have always expected. There not have meddled in the matter; but the busi- is a crack in your family, and you take it by ness is not yet completed till signatum et sigil-turns! you have had it, and now transfer it to latum.
your nephew, which, to your shame be it spoNeph. Let me fly to the widow, and tell her ken, is the only transfer you have ever made how prosperouly we go on.
him. Bates. Don't be in a hurry, young man! She Whit. But am not I going to do him more is not in the dark I assure you, nor has she yet than justice? finished her part: so capital an actress should Bates. As you have done him much less than not be idle in the last act.
justice hitherto, you can't begin too soon. Neph. I could wish that you would let me Whit. Am not I going to give him the lady come into my uncle's proposal at once, without he likes, and which I was going to marry myvexing him farther.
self? Bates. Then I declare off. Thou silly young Butes. Yes, that is, you are taking a perpeman, are you to be duped by your own weak tual blister off your own back, to clap it upon good nature, and his worldly craft? This does his? What a tender uncle you are ! not arise from his love and justice to you, but hit. But you don't consider the estate which from his own miserable situation ; he must be I shall give him? tortured into justice: He shall not only give Bates. Restore to him, you mean; 'tis bis up your whole "estate, which he is loth to part own, and you should have given it up long ago: with, but you must now have a premium for you inust do more, or Old Nick will have you.agreeing to your own happiness. What, shall Your nephew won't take the widow off your your widow, with wit and spirit, that would do hands without a fortune-throw him ten thouthe greatest honour to our sex, go through her sand into the bargain. task cheerfully, and shall your courage give Whit. Indeed, but I shan't ; he shall run mad, way, and be outdone by a woman's?—fie for and I'll marry her myself, rather than do that.shame!
Mr. Bates, be a true friend, and sooth my neNeph. I beg your pardon, Mr. Bates ! I will phew to consent to my proposal. follow your directions; be as hard-hearted as Bates. You have raised the fiend, and ought my uncle, and vex his body and mind for the to lay him; however, I'll do my best for good of his soul.
When the head is turned, nothing can bring it Butes. That's a good child! and remember right again so soon as ten thousand pounds.that your own, and the widow's future happi- Shall I promise for you. ness, depends upon your both going through Whit. I'll sooner go to Bedlam myself. [Erit the business with spirit; make your uncle feel Bates.] Why, I am in a worse condition than for himself, that he may do justice to other | I was before! If this widow's father will not let people. Is the widow ready for the last ex- me be off without providing for his daughter, I periment?
may lose a great sum of money, and none of us Neph. She is. But think what anxiety I shall be the better for it. My nephew half mad! feel while she is in danger !
myself half married ! and no remedy for either Bates. Ha, ha, ha! she'll be in no danger! of us ! besides, shan't we be at hand to assist her?-Hark! I hear him coming: I'll probe his callous
Enter Servant. heart to the quick! and if we are not paid for our trouble, nay, I am no politician. Fly: now Ser. Sir Patrick O'Neale is come to wait upon we shall do!
[Exit Nephew. you: would you please to see him? Enter WHITTLE.
Whit. By all means, the very person I want
ed: don't let him wait. (Exit Serrant.) I won, Whit. Well, Mr. Bates, have you talked with der if he has seen my letter to the widow; I my nephew? 'is not he overjoyed at the pro- will sound him by degrees, that I may be sure of posal ?
my mark before I strike the blow.