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diff --git a/37667-h/37667-h.htm b/37667-h/37667-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d74d9b --- /dev/null +++ b/37667-h/37667-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5481 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Three Hours after Marriage, by John Gay, Alexander Pope, and John Arbuthnot. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.5em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + clear: both; + } + h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + margin-top: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linert {position: absolute; left: 50%; font-size: 300%;} /* poetry number */ + .ralign {font-size: 140%; text-align: right;} /* poetry number */ + .ft30 {font-size: 300%;} /* poetry number */ + .ft20 {font-size: 140%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bbt {border-top: solid 1px; border-bottom: solid 1px; + width: 40%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + .tb {margin-top: 1.25em;} + .half {margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; width: 25%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .noidt {text-indent: 0em;} + .center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} + .stgdir {text-align: center; margin-top: 2.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; text-indent: 0em;margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + .stgdir1 {text-align: left; margin-top: 2.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; text-indent: -1em; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + .stgrt {position: absolute; right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .stglt {margin-left: 65%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -2em;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .overline {text-decoration: overline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + .ridt {text-indent: -1.5em; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 1.5em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 81%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none; font-style: normal;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0em;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Hours after Marriage, by +John Gay and Alexander Pope and John Arbuthnot + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Three Hours after Marriage + +Author: John Gay + Alexander Pope + John Arbuthnot + +Editor: John Harrington Smith + +Release Date: October 8, 2011 [EBook #37667] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE HOURS AFTER MARRIAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + +<h1><span class="smcap">The Augustan Reprint Society</span></h1> + +<h3><i>JOHN GAY, ALEXANDER POPE<br /> +JOHN ARBUTHNOT</i><br /> +THREE HOURS AFTER MARRIAGE</h3> + +<h4>Edited, with an<br /> +Introduction, by<br /> +John Harrington Smith</h4> + +<h4>Publication Number 91-92</h4> + +<h5>William Andrews Clark Memorial Library<br /> +University of California<br /> +Los Angeles<br /> +1961</h5> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4>GENERAL EDITORS</h4> + + +<p class="center"> +Richard C. Boys, <i>University of Michigan</i><br /> +Ralph Cohen, <i>University of California, Los Angeles</i><br /> +Vinton A. Dearing, <i>University of California, Los Angeles</i><br /> +Lawrence Clark Powell, <i>Clark Memorial Library</i><br /> +</p> + + +<h4>ADVISORY EDITORS</h4> + +<p class="center"> +John Butt, <i>University of Edinburgh</i><br /> +James L. Clifford, <i>Columbia University</i><br /> +Arthur Friedman, <i>University of Chicago</i><br /> +Louis A. Landa, <i>Princeton University</i><br /> +Samuel H. Monk, <i>University of Minnesota</i><br /> +Everett T. Moore, <i>University of California, Los Angeles</i><br /> +James Sutherland, <i>University College, London</i><br /> +H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., <i>University of California, Los Angeles</i><br /> +</p> + + +<h4>CORRESPONDING SECRETARY</h4> + +<p class="center">Edna C. Davis, <i>Clark Memorial Library</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> + + +<p>It is a privilege to have a part in this reprint of what is certainly +one of the wittiest plays in the language, and one of the most neglected.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> +Its tripartite authorship and raffish character have encouraged +editors to bypass it. The 1717 London edition and Dublin reprint +the same year bore no author's name on the title-page, but as +Gay signed the Advertisement one would think his editors would have +felt it somewhat incumbent on them to keep the play alive. However, +so far as I have been able to discover, only the 1795 collected edition +of Gay does its duty in this respect, and the editor of Gay's +plays in the Abbey Classics (2 vols., 1923) refused to admit it there, +claiming that though "this justly abused piece" had been ascribed +to Gay, "the authors of the greater part were Pope and Arbuthnot." +<i>Three Hours</i> has fared somewhat better as a work of Pope, but interest +in reprinting it under his aegis seems to have died out early +in the nineteenth century, where the Twickenham Edition (VI, 180) +locates two collections of writings attached to Pope that include +it—very far to the back of the volume in each case. Since then, +nothing, except for a few scraps in G. C. Faber's <i>Poetical Works +of Gay</i>, 1926.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> +Since this introduction was written the <i>Johnsonian News Letter</i> for +June 1961 has announced that an edition of <i>Three Hours</i> is being prepared +and may be expected to appear at an early date. It is gratifying to learn +that the play is receiving this attention and I hope that this reprint may +be of use to the editors in their task.</p></div> + +<p>Not much can be done with the play in the space here available, +but neither is a complete treatment attempted. Our purpose is to +dispel the impression that <i>Three Hours</i> is "dull"<a name="FNanchor_1_2" id="FNanchor_1_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_2" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> (or so risqué that +in the public interest it should be kept from general circulation) and +to bring it to the attention of more scholars. Certainly the present +discussion does not aim to pre-empt the possibilities for study; much +will remain to conquer still-for example, the knotty problem of which +author wrote precisely which parts of the play, if anyone wants to +try an untangling here—I prefer to think it a collaboration through +and through, though some tracks of individuals may be made out.</p> + +<p>In the selection of the text to be reproduced for this series the +first edition (somewhat unexpectedly) had competition, not from the +London 1757 <i>Supplement</i> to Pope's works, but from the version of +the play given in the three Dublin printings of the collection of this +title: 1757, 1758, 1761. The Dublin play is not merely a debased +version of 1717: it is in five acts, 1717 in three, and it contains a +sentence of dialogue that 1717 does not: these differences, when +taken in conjunction with the prefatory remarks that Gay wrote for +the 1717 printing, made it possible to determine (readers will find +the argument set forth further on, in a note to the Advertisement) +that Dublin, though printed so long after the event (and somewhat +butchered by the type-setter, we admit, but corrections of his worst +misreadings and typos will be found in the notes) dates from the +year 1717 just as the other does, was the script used in the production +of the play, and actually was the one that Gay thought Lintot +would use in the edition he published. The other consideration inclining +us toward the Dublin version of the play was that only in its +printings can one get the Key and Letter which, a number of years +ago, George Sherburn had in a copy of 1761 and used with such +striking effect in his article on the "Fortunes and Misfortunes" of +the play;<a name="FNanchor_2_3" id="FNanchor_2_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_3" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> he quoted liberally from both documents but they seemed +to us so interesting as to be worth putting into the reader's hands +entire.</p> + +<p>Thus it boiled down to a choice between the two earlier Dublin +printings; 1761, it seemed, would not need to be checked. The kindness +of the Harvard College Library made it possible to compare its +copy of 1757 with the Clark Library's copy of 1758, and in the light +of the data furnished by the Clark's Supervising Bibliographer, Mr. +William E. Conway, the Clark copy could be settled upon; the differences, +though slight—there was little resetting from 1757 to 1758, +and none in the play proper—were in its favor.</p> + +<p>Any study of the play must begin with Professor Sherburn's article—it +is still indispensable, factually—but in its findings scholars +have perhaps let it influence them more than they should have. +John Wilson Bowyer was exceptional in challenging one of its +identifications<a name="FNanchor_3_4" id="FNanchor_3_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_4" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> (successfully, I thought); perhaps the time has now +come for re-examining some of its other theses—for example, the +doctrine (which has become so firmly embedded in the scholarship +on the play) that the authors intended the role of Plotwell as a satire +on Cibber. This was suggested at the time in the <i>Key</i> to the +play by E. Parker, but any charge brought by this person might well +have been looked at askance; for, whoever he was, he was avowedly +a champion of "that elaborate Gentleman," "the learned Dr. +W—d——d" (Woodward, one of the real people attacked in the play) +and might be suspected of hoping to cause an embroilment. It seems +clear that prior to the play's première there was no rift between the +management at Drury Lane and the authors. Parker says that they +were constantly in attendance at rehearsals, and our Letter (p. 216) +avers that they were more than satisfied with what Cibber was doing +with their work. It rings true; the line attributed to Gay, "We dug +the ore, but he [Cibber] refined the gold" exaggerates greatly no +doubt, but seems beyond the powers of our female informant to have +contrived in support of a thesis. An atmosphere of happy optimism +prevailed; Lintot (Parker says) predicted that the play "would surprize +the whole Town," and it was reported that he had given 50 +guineas for the publishing rights (this item from John Durant Breval—signing +himself "Joseph Gay"—p. 30 of <i>The Confederates</i>, 1717).<a name="FNanchor_4_5" id="FNanchor_4_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_5" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<p>That in all this sweetness and light there should have been a +plan to make Cibber ridiculous, and he too stupid to realize this until +he had trod the stage as Plotwell and felt the impact of the lines +directed at him personally, is unbelievable on the face of it. How +could the alleged plotters have been sure that when Colley came to +cast the play he would not frustrate their deep-laid plan by assigning +Plotwell to some other actor, if only by mere chance?</p> + +<p>The theory has fed on some misreadings of the play that must +have an end put to them if this ghost is to be laid. If the reader, +then, will pardon the obviousness of the following, it is true that +Cibber wrote plays, but the name Plotwell should not be taken in +this sense, but merely as suggesting the gallant skilled in the stratagems +which, in the older comedies, males of this class had been +accustomed to use in their cuckolding operations. Plotwell in the +play has never set pen to paper except for notes sent to wives, and +he is not an "actor-manager" or the like. He and Underplot are simply +gentlemen who spend so much of their time in intrigues in real +life that they would have no time for play-writing.<a name="FNanchor_5_6" id="FNanchor_5_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_6" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> In the part of +<i>Three Hours</i> that has led scholars down this false path—the scene +in which the manuscript is judged by Sir Tremendous and the players—it +must be kept in mind that the actual author of the work being +dismembered is Phoebe Clinket, not Plotwell, who, since he is +merely fronting for her, is enabled to meet such strictures as "Between +you and I, this gentleman knows nothing of poetry" with perfect +sang-froid; it is Phoebe whose withers are comically wrung. +Thus there was nothing in the part to offend Cibber, much less can +resentment on his part be deduced from the intermission of the play +after the seventh night.<a name="FNanchor_6_7" id="FNanchor_6_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_7" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> + +<p>The squabble involving Pope, Gay, and Cibber must have begun +with the latter's allusion to our play in the revival of <i>The Rehearsal</i> +on February 7, a couple of weeks after <i>Three Hours</i> had +closed. Cibber's version of how it happened may be read in the +Letter (pp. 217-218 below); our female correspondent sympathized +with him and deleted a few expressions indicative of animus on his +part, but on the whole the quote as she gives it is a reasonable facsimile +of what he had said in the <i>Letter to Pope</i> (1742). His disclaimer +of an intent to offend is believable in the light of what we +have just seen as to how Plotwell should be read in the play; on +the other side, Pope's anger at the gag—though not any visit by +him to Cibber, that is true—is attested both by Breval and by "Timothy +Drub" (<i>A Letter to Mr. John Gay</i>, 1717) who agree that Pope +was the one principally offended and that it was he who sent Gay +with instructions to trounce "that impudent Dog C——r" (this line +from Drub's pamphlet). Why may not Pope have been angry enough +to seek out Cibber himself on the impulse of the moment? It seems +feeble to doubt Cibber's testimony on the grounds that he had not +told the story prior to 1742; he had not previously told the tale of +the youthful Pope in a bagnio, either, yet the authorities think there +might be something to this—if to the one tale, why not to the other? +As to the account the lady gives of the scuffle between Gay and +Cibber, it was widely known at the time that there had been some +sort of angry meeting between them; her story is highly colored but +nonetheless may be substantially true.<a name="FNanchor_7_8" id="FNanchor_7_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_8" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> + +<p>This quarrel, whether with both poets involved with Cibber or +only one, doubtless cost the play a revival or two that it would otherwise +have had; with such evidence of anger in the authors Cibber +could well have wished to have done with them and their work. The +use of the crocodile costume on April 2 in a dance at Drury Lane +entitled <i>The Shipwreck</i> suggests that so far as the management was +concerned the play for which it had been devised would not be acted +again. Thereafter, <i>Three Hours</i> had only two revivals (Handlist of +Plays in Nicoll, <i>Early Eighteenth-Century Drama</i>)—one in 1737 (two +performances) the other in 1746 (three).</p> + +<p>A pity! But in any case the play could not have had much of +a life on the stage, considering the climate into which the authors +chose to introduce it. The type of wit that had flourished in the +former age did still hold a place in the theatre in 1717, but only in +such comedies as had already won a place in the repertory.<a name="FNanchor_8_9" id="FNanchor_8_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_9" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> The +older plays could be "corrected" (that is, the racier lines could be +taken out) or the tender-minded could tolerate them as classics or +in a pinch stay at home when a play known to be of this sort had +been announced. A new play was in a more vulnerable position; it +had to conform to what the reformers had for a couple of decades +been telling audiences a play should be, or squalls could be expected. +Sir Richard Blackmore was continuing the crusade against scapegrace +wit—in the Preface to his <i>Essays</i>, 1717, he is explicitly severe +upon <i>Three Hours</i> and its authors—and the battle was going +his way. Jeremy Collier had published nothing on the theatre for +nearly a decade but it is interesting to see his methods applied to +the play by Timothy Drub in his <i>Letter to Gay</i> and Drub then clinching +his remarks with a quote of two pages from "a very elegant author" +whom he does not name but who—not too surprisingly—can +be recognized as Collier himself.<a name="FNanchor_9_10" id="FNanchor_9_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_10" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> (Could "Drub" have been, in +fact, Collier, thus tempted by <i>Three Hours</i> to return to the fray under +this alias?)</p> + +<p>In any event the authors must have known that they were offering +to swim against the tide but counted on their combined brilliance +to win anyway. What they wrote happens to conform to the current +rules in one respect—to paraphrase the epilogue to <i>Love's Last +Shift</i>, no cuckold is made within the limits of its three hours' time +span—but this compliance must have been accidental, for in every +other respect the play deliberately flouts the regulations as established +by Collier and his school. Obviously the authors were out +to create a sensation: shock the stodgy and respectable element, +jam the play down the throats of the audience, and win the admiration +of the minority with whom libertine wit was still in favor.</p> + +<p>These aims, which even a friend and well-wisher has to view +as a bit on the juvenile side, were far from fully achieved. The +description that Breval gives of the behavior of the crowd on the +first night (Sherburn quotes it, if the reader can not readily get hold +of <i>The Confederates</i>) is suggestive, not of a house packed with enemies +of the authors, friends of Dr. Woodward and John Dennis out +to damn the play, but of a crowd that had come predisposed to approve—"Silent +a while th'attentive Many sate"—but found themselves +simply unable to endure the dramatic fare set before them. The murmur +that began and then grew to a hiss must have surprised and +alarmed the authors: Breval's version of how they reacted must have +a grain or two of truth in it. In the account of the second and third +nights furnished by our Key one can see matters improving, but it +is clear that to quiet the audience took heroic efforts by the cast +and there was probably some deletion of offending lines,<a name="FNanchor_10_11" id="FNanchor_10_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_11" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> perhaps +some resort to "packing" the house.<a name="FNanchor_11_12" id="FNanchor_11_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_12" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> This last was a measure +not infrequently taken in those days—Dr. Johnson's story of Steele's +efforts in behalf of <i>Cato</i> will be recalled—but this was not what +the authors had anticipated. In the upshot they had dared the unpastured +dragon of reform in his den and had got away with it—but +barely. They were all right financially—the run should have brought +them two "benefits"—and there was the fee from Lintot and an added +present of guineas from those three court ladies who wanted the +world to know that they were sophisticated enough to take the play +in stride. (Pope paid them with "A Court Ballad.") Still, the pride +of the authors must have received some damage; perhaps some sensitiveness +on Pope's part is understandable.</p> + +<p>But what the collaboration produced is truly remarkable; if there +is something of a show-off air about it the authors can be forgiven, +in view of what they had to exhibit. Though its fast pace (which +flags only toward the last) and its emphasis on intrigue may slant +it toward farce, <i>Three Hours</i> has the vitality and verve that one +finds only in the very best English comic writing. Phoebe Clinket +and Sir Tremendous are, to me, endlessly enjoyable, and Dr. Fossile +more than merely a caricature of a now forgotten virtuoso or a lifeless +counter in an intrigue plot (though in both these respects he +meets the requirements of the part beautifully); even he has moments +when the humanity shows through—as in his plaintive line to his +friends when the mummy and the crocodile spring into movement and +speech, "Gentlemen, wonder at nothing within these walls; for ever +since I was married, nothing has happened to me in the common +course of human life." Of the trio composed of Mrs. Townley and +her followers I like them all, for various reasons, but the lady best. +Once she shrieks (p. 186) but considering the circumstances anyone +would consider this justifiable; otherwise she moves through the +incredible crises of her role with a self-possession and an easy +charm and good humor that one can only admire: as if she knew it +was all nonsense but condescended to cooperate for the sake of the +joke.</p> + +<p>Among the minor characters one deserves especial mention. +It was probably heartless of the authors to make fun of an aging and +unfortunate (if rather eccentric) lady in "poor Lady Hyppokekoana" +(as her compassionate, but, perforce, ever neglectful physician calls +her) but at least the result was esthetically satisfactory, and I beg +leave to nominate her for listing with that class of comic characters +who, though kept behind the scenes throughout, still come through +unforgettably in the reports we have of them: Mrs. Grundy in <i>Speed +the Plough</i>; Mrs. Harris in <i>Martin Chuzzlewit</i>; Dashenka in <i>The +Cherry Orchard</i>.</p> + +<p style='text-align: right'> +John Harrington Smith <br /> +University of California <br /> +Los Angeles <br /> +</p> + + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_2" id="Footnote_1_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_2"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Thus the editor of the Cambridge <i>Pope</i> in his headnote to the prologue; +one wonders whether he had read the play or was merely going on hearsay.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_3" id="Footnote_2_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_3"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>MP</i>, XXIV (1926), 91-109.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_4" id="Footnote_3_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_4"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> In <i>The Celebrated Mrs. Centlivre</i> (1952). Sherburn had contended that +Phoebe Clinket in the play was aimed at Mrs. Centlivre rather than at Lady +Winchilsea as the tradition had it. Bowyer pins the satire to Lady Winchilsea +once more and it seems this must be generally correct; the reference +in the epilogue to "our well-bred poetess" seems intended for Lady Winchilsea +rather than for Mrs. Centlivre.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_5" id="Footnote_4_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_5"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The report was not far wrong—the amount that Lintot paid Gay, on +January 8,was £43, 2s, 6d (Nichols, <i>Literary Anecdotes</i>, VIII (1814), 296).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_6" id="Footnote_5_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_6"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> See the excellent comment on the pair in our Key, p. 212.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_7" id="Footnote_6_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_7"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> To charge him, as one authority has done, with "an arbitrary withdrawal +of <i>Three Hours</i> after a far from unsuccessful week ... an invidious, if not +unwarrantable, decision on his part" betrays an imperfect understanding +of how a theater had to be managed in the early 18th century when the number +of patrons upon which it could rely was limited. A play would run as +long as it continued to draw; when the house began to fall off a new bill +would have to be announced. The intermitting of <i>Three Hours</i> should be +most naturally read as suggesting that at least in the judgment of the managers +its initial vogue had passed. It would have been brought back when +they thought patrons were ready to see it again—say, in a couple of months.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_8" id="Footnote_7_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_8"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> She says that the fracas occurred on the fourth evening of <i>The Rehearsal</i>, +and at least this revival did have a fourth performance, five in +fact: Emmett L. Avery in <i>The London Stage</i> (1960) gives the dates as +February 7, 8, 20, March 21, 28. There is a slight difficulty in assigning +Gay's visit to the fourth of these, i.e., March 21: this is that the dates +on which the two pamphlets that refer to it were advertised ("just before +March 1" for Drub's, and March 30 for Breval's—Sherburn, p. 91) seem to +rule out a March 21 fracas in the one case and to fall uncomfortably close +in the other. But publication (of course) though announced, may have been +delayed, and it is perhaps worth noticing that in each pamphlet Gay's visit +is mentioned in an inorganic part of the work that could have been added +late: the Dedication in Drub's, and, in Breval's, an ironical "congratulatory +poem" printed after the epilogue, on the last two pages of the book.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_9" id="Footnote_8_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_9"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> During the year prior to the première of <i>Three Hours</i> the following had +been seen on the London stage twice each or more (selection only: based +on Avery, op. cit.): <i>The Comical Revenge</i>, <i>Man of Mode</i>, <i>Country Wife</i>, +<i>Plain-Dealer</i>, <i>London Cuckolds</i>, <i>Old Bachelor</i>, <i>Relapse</i>. <i>City Politicks</i>, +a play from which our authors took some hints, was revived in the July +after the closure of <i>Three Hours</i>; it ran three performances (i.e., successfully). +But it should be recalled that the most recent of the eight plays +here mentioned—Vanbrugh's—had been in the repertory twenty years.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_10" id="Footnote_9_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_10"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The quote is from the <i>Short View</i>, pp. 7-8 in the 1698 edition, from +"Obscenity in any Company is a rustick and increditable Talent" to "But +here a Man can't be a Sinner without being a Clown."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_11" id="Footnote_10_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_11"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Drub says that the actors left out "a considerable load of Obscenity +and Prophaness." Presumably the authors would have to acquiesce in such +bowdlerizing.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_12" id="Footnote_11_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_12"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Breval, p. 11, and his note.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> +<h2>NOTES</h2> + + +<p class="ridt"><i><a href="#ADVERTISEMENT">Advertisement</a>, printed exactly as it is acted.</i> In 1717 Gay continued, +"for, tho' the Players in Compliance with the Taste of +the Town, broke it into five Parts in the Representation; yet, +as the Action pauses, and the Stage is left vacant but three +times, so it properly consists but of three Acts, like the <i>Spanish</i> +Comedies." There are several puzzles here. In the first place +for a three-act play the stage should be left vacant twice rather +than three times. But setting this aside there is a contradiction +which must have puzzled any reader who has used the 1717 edition, +namely that if the players broke it into five parts and the +play is printed exactly as it is acted, the play that follows +should be in five acts but actually is in three. The London +1757 <i>Supplement to Pope</i> merely reprints Advertisement and +play as they are in 1717 and it is not until the Dublin printings +that the play appears in the five acts in which Gay says it was +acted.</p> + +<p>I suggest that Lintot in 1717 had two scripts of the play, +one in three acts, one in five, and that Gay wrote the Advertisement +under the impression that Lintot would discard the former.</p> + +<p>I judge that when W. Whitestone undertook his Dublin Supplement +of 1757 he took the Advertisement from the London +book that had just been published (see the title-page of the volume) +but that when he re-issued his book in 1758 he deleted the +lines quoted above, perceiving that they were not to the point +so far as his text of the play was concerned.</p> + +<p>Unless we imagine Whitestone revising the play into five +acts himself we must suppose that he had got his hands on an +authentic acting MS of the play, and it seems not one from a +late revival. I suspect that Whitestone in fact had got the very +MS of the play that Gay thought Lintot was going to print; one +cannot guess from where, but presumably from the same source +that supplied the Key and Letter. Besides the act divisions +the most interesting variant is a speech of a dozen words added +to Dublin; see the note to p. 183. Cibber may have put this in, +or Gay, at Cibber's request. But in either case it seems that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>the text that has it is the one that Gay authorized for printing.</p> + +<p>By the same token, the cast as given in the present reprint +(no actors' names are given in Dublin 1757 but they must +have been in the script and in the reprint of 1758 Whitestone +decided to put them in) is more probably correct than that printed +in 1717. The only differences between the two are in five very +minor roles, where, as rehearsals went on, substitutions would +be easy. All the principals are the same.</p> + +<p class="ridt"><i><a href="#PROLOGUE">Prologue.</a></i> Nothing to add to the Twickenham <i>Pope</i>, VI, 179-180.</p> + +<p class="ridt"><i><a href="#DRAMATIS">Dramatis Personae.</a></i> Five minor roles differ from 1717, as stated +above. <i>Mrs. Bicknet.</i> A misreading by the typesetter—he had +never heard of Mrs. Bicknell.</p> + +<p class="ridt"><i><a href="#PLAY">Play.</a></i></p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="8" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k140_1" id="k140_1"></a><i>Almost three and twenty.</i> Mrs. Oldfield was only 34 in +1717 but no doubt popular enough to draw a laugh by simpering +at this line.<br /> + +<a name="k140_2" id="k140_2"></a><i>The office of the church ... brute beasts.</i> The <i>Book of +Common Prayer</i> (1709) says of matrimony that it is not to +be taken in hand "wantonly ... like brute beasts." The +fashion of alluding to the Prayer Book in a jocose context, +if it did not begin in the reign of Charles II, was at least +in vogue than; a couple of instances in Dryden's <i>Wild +Gallant</i> will be pointed out in the Clark <i>Dryden</i>, VIII (scheduled +to appear in 1962). Another touch of "profaneness" +that Collieresque critics objected to in <i>Three Hours</i> was +the paraphrase of Holy Writ in Sir Tremendous's line about +"ten righteous criticks," p. 153; cf. Key, p. 215.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k141" id="k141"></a><i>pistachoe-porridge.</i> An aphrodisiac concoction? (I apologize +for my neglect of the pharmaceutical, medical, and +alchemical jargon—J.H.S.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k144" id="k144"></a><i>spoils of quarries.</i> Cf. the anecdote of Dr. Woodward in +the Key, p. 211; Parker's Key has it also, but in a less +complete form.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k145" id="k145"></a><i>Shock.</i> Mrs. Townley's lapdog—perhaps named after +Belinda's in <i>Rape of the Lock</i>. Of course it may have +been a common name for such dogs before Pope wrote the +poem; see Twickenham <i>Pope</i>, II, 153.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k147" id="k147"></a><i>my pace and my honour.</i> 1717, "Peace."</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k148" id="k148"></a><i>forgive thee, if thou hadst ... kill'd my lapdog.</i> Parker, +with a citation to <i>Rape of the Lock</i>, assigned this speech +to Pope, and indeed it smacks of several places in the +poem, e.g., III, 157-8, IV, 119-120.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k150" id="k150"></a><i>some ... that nauseate the smell of a rose.</i> Cf. <i>Essay +on Man</i>, I, 200.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k152" id="k152"></a><i>That injudicious Canaille.</i> In view of her bias Phoebe's +strictures on the players are of course to be taken in the +directly opposite sense.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td><td align='left'>Parker finds some double-entendres in the dialogue in +which Phoebe and Sir Tremendous compliment each other; +if such there be, the speakers are unaware of them.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k156" id="k156"></a><i>if stones were dissolved, as a late philosopher hath proved.</i> +In summarizing his thesis in the preface to his Essay +<i>Toward a Natural History of the Earth</i> (1695) Dr. Woodward +does say that "the whole Terrestrial Globe was taken all +to pieces and dissolved at the Deluge, the particles of +Stone ..." According to the DNB, Arbuthnot published +a criticism of this book in 1697.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td><td align='left'>The "old woman" who brings the letter from Madam Wyburn +(a name beyond all praise!): Drub, p. 18, calls her "an +Old Woman without a Nose," and objects strenuously. +One dislikes siding with Drub on anything, but this was +indeed an unsavory touch, perhaps one of the embellishments +suggested by Cibber while refining the ore of the +play into gold during the rehearsal period. Our authors +should have ruled against it but they were in no mood to +pull punches at this time, though, as stated above, they +had to consent to some bowdlerizing after the first night +of the play.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k168" id="k168"></a><i>a rouge in disguise.</i> 1717, "Rogue."</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k171" id="k171"></a><i>my Mercury.</i> 1717, "by Mercury."</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k173" id="k173"></a><i>s.d. in a chair like a sick man.</i> Idea from Crowne, <i>City +Politicks</i>, first acted 1682.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k178_1" id="k178_1"></a><i>fitigue.</i> 1717, "Fatigue."<br /> +<a name="k178_2" id="k178_2"></a>s.d. <i>powers some drops in.</i> +1717, "pours."</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k180" id="k180"></a><i>have the any power.</i> 1717, "they."</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k182_1" id="k182_1"></a>Townley's concealing Plotwell under the petticoat owes +to Mrs. Behn's <i>The Younger Brother</i> (acted 1696, not revived), +Mirtilla's hiding "Endimion" under the train of her +gown in IV.ii.<br /> +<a name="k182_2" id="k182_2"></a><i>invisible i th is very.</i> Typo for "in this very"; 1717 has +"on this very." Gay (or Cibber) might have changed "on" +to "in" when adding the sentence at the end of Act IV; +see next note.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k183" id="k183"></a><i>But prithee ... rarities.</i> This sentence is not in 1717, +but seems an improvement, as it hints at developments to +come and raises the expectations of the audience.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k186_1" id="k186_1"></a><i>desarts.</i> 1717, "Disserts."<br /> + +<a name="k186_2" id="k186_2"></a><i>Macedonian queen.</i> Olympias: Underplot in his verses +alludes, mock-heroically, to the fabled begetting of +Alexander the Great.<br /> + +<a name="k186_3" id="k186_3"></a><i>mantygers.</i> This spelling may have come from the London +1757 <i>Supplement.</i> 1717, "Mantegers" (OED, mantegar, a +kind of baboon).</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k191" id="k191"></a><i>s.d. leap from their places.</i> Idea from Ravenscroft's <i>The +Anatomist</i>: cf. n. to 215.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k199" id="k199"></a><i>Come we may</i> (5th line on page). 1717, "Come we now"—perhaps +"may" is a misreading.</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<p class="ridt"><i><a href="#EPILOGUE">Epilogue.</a></i></p> + +<p><a name="k205_1" id="k205_1"></a><i>sound in living.</i> Perhaps another misreading: 1717, "and" for +"in."</p> + +<p><a name="k205_2" id="k205_2"></a><i>viol.</i> 1717, "vial." Perhaps another misreading.</p> + + +<p class="ridt"><i><a href="#KEY">Key.</a></i></p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="8" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k212_1" id="k212_1"></a><i>knights of the shires, who represent them all.</i> Paraphrase +of a line in Dryden's epilogue to <i>The Man of Mode</i>: a mark +of literacy in the anonymous writer of our Key.<br /> +<a name="k212_2" id="k212_2"></a><i>Heautontimerumenos.</i> Self-tormentor—title of a play by +Terence.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k213" id="k213"></a><i>another eminent physician's wife ... shall be nameless.</i> +Contemporary gossip said that the wife of Dr. Richard Mead +was meant: Parker, less considerate than the gentlemanly +author of our Key, uses her name, and in Breval (p. 15) +Mrs. Oldfield is made to wish that she had not "mimick'd +Mrs. M—d" in her role as Mrs. Townley. But it seems +likely that any mimicry would be in the mind of the audience +rather than in Mrs. Oldfield's performance, or for that matter, +the intention of the authors.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k214" id="k214"></a><i>Marriage not to be undertaken wantonly.</i> The Key is incorrect +in citing the Jonson play; see note to p. 140, above.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' valign='top'><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td><td align='left'><a name="k215_1" id="k215_1"></a><i>letters ... Cocu imaginaire.</i> None of our Key-writer's adducings +of Molière is really in point. The hint for the letters +came from Act V of anon., <i>The Apparition</i>, acted twice +in 1713. The same play has an intriguing valet named +Plotwell; here our authors found the name for one of their +gallants—Underplot was a happy invention of their own.<br /> +<a name="k215_2" id="k215_2"></a><i>Lubomirski ... in Lopez de Vega</i>. Parker (p. 9) is correct +in tracing this impersonation of Plotwell's to Ravenscroft's +<i>The Anatomist, or the Sham Doctor</i>; the same farce +suggested the anxiety of the disguised gallants at the proposals +to dissect them in Act V. Ravenscroft's play, first +acted in 1696, was popular well into the 18th century and +would be well known to the audience. No doubt our authors +expected their play to be found infinitely funnier than +Ravenscroft's in the comparable parts. It is.<br /> +<a name="k215_3" id="k215_3"></a><i>Theatre Italien.</i> Parker (p. 14) says more explicitly that +the mummy-crocodile scene is "all stole from a farce" in +this collection. Gherardi, vol. VI, does have a farce of +the title cited but the only trace of it in <i>Three Hours</i> occurs +in the brief joke on Antony and Cleopatra that Townley +and Plotwell share on p. 185.</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><small>A</small><br /> +<big>SUPPLEMENT</big><br /> +<small>TO THE</small><br /> +<span class="ft20">WORKS</span><br /> +<small>OF</small><br /> +<big><span class="smcap">Alexander Pope</span>, Esq;</big><br /> +<span class="smcap">Containing</span>,<br /> +Such POEMS, LETTERS, <i>&c.</i></h3> + +<p class="center"><big>As are omitted in the Edition published<br /> +by the Reverend Doctor <i>Warburton</i>:</big></p> + +<p class="center"><small>With the <span class="smcap">Comedy</span> of the</small><br /> +<span class="ft20"><span class="smcap">Three Hours</span> after <span class="smcap">Marriage</span>;</span><br /> +And a <span class="smcap">Key</span> to the <span class="smcap">Letters</span>:<br /> +<small>To which is added, (not in the <i>London</i> Edition)</small><br /> + +<span class="ft20"><span class="smcap">A Key</span> to the <span class="smcap">Three Hours</span> after<br /> +<span class="smcap">Marriage</span>,</span></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>And a <span class="smcap">Letter</span> giving an Account of the<br /> + Origin of the Quarrel between <span class="smcap">Cibber</span>,<br /> + <span class="smcap">Pope</span>, and <span class="smcap">Gay</span>.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="half" /> +<h4><i>DUBLIN:</i><br /> +Printed for <span class="smcap">W. Whitestone</span>, opposite <i>Dick</i>'s<br /> +<i>Coffee-House</i>, in <i>Skinner-Row</i>.<br /> +<span class="overline">M.DCC.LVIII.</span></h4> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>Three Hours after</i></h2> +<h1>MARRIAGE:</h1> + +<h4>A</h4> +<h2>COMEDY.</h2> + +<div class="bbt"> +<p class="center"><i>Rumpatur, quisquis rumpitur invidia.</i> <span class="smcap">Mart.</span></p> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ADVERTISEMENT" id="ADVERTISEMENT"></a>ADVERTISEMENT.</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><big>It may be necessary to acquaint the +reader, that this play is printed exactly +as it is acted.</big></p> + +<p><big>I must farther own the assistance I have +receiv'd in this piece from two of my +friends; who, tho' they will not allow me +the honour of having their names join'd +with mine, cannot deprive me of the pleasure +of making this acknowledgment.</big></p> + +<p class="ralign"><span class="smcap">John Gay.</span></p> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;"> +<img src="images/i_020.png" width="640" height="104" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="PROLOGUE" id="PROLOGUE"></a>PROLOGUE<br /> +<br /> +<small>Spoke by Mr. <span class="smcap">Wilks.</span></small></h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<p> +<i>Authors are judg'd by strange capricious rules,<br /> +The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools.<br /> +Yet sure the best are most severely fated,<br /> +For fools are only laugh'd at, wits are hated,<br /> +Blockheads with reason, men of sense abhor;<br /> +But fool 'gainst fool is barb'rous civil war.<br /> +Why on all authors then should critics fall?<br /> +Since some have writ, and shewn no wit at all.<br /> +Condemn a play of theirs, and they evade it,<br /> +Cry, damn not us, but damn the French that made it;<br /> +By running goods, these graceless owlers gain,<br /> +Theirs are the rules of France, the plots of Spain:<br /> +But wit, like wine, from happier climates brought,<br /> +Dash'd by these rogues, turns English common draught:<br /> +They pall Moliere's and Lopez sprightly strain,<br /> +And teach dull Harlequins to grin in vain.<br /> +How shall our author hope a gentle fate,<br /> +Who dares most impudently——not translate.<br /> +It had been civil in these ticklish times,<br /> +To fetch his fools and knaves from foreign climes;</i><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span><i>Spaniards and French abuse to the worlds' end<br /> +But spare old England, lest you hurt a friend.<br /> +If any fool is by your satire bit,<br /> +Let him hiss loud, to show you all—he's hit.<br /> +Poets make characters as salesmen cloaths,<br /> +We take no measure of your fops and beaus.<br /> +But here all sizes and all shapes ye meet,<br /> +And fit yourselves—like chaps in Monmouth-street.</i></p> + +<p> +<i>Gallants look here, this<a name="FNanchor_A_13" id="FNanchor_A_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_13" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> fool's cap has an air—<br /> +Goodly and smart,—with ears of Issachar.<br /> +Let no one fool engross it, or confine:<br /> +A common blessing! now 'tis your's, now mine.<br /> +But poets in all ages, had the Care<br /> +To keep this cap, for such as will, to wear;<br /> +Our author has it now, for ev'ry wit<br /> +Of course resign'd it to the next that writ:<br /> +And thus upon the stage 'tis fairly<a name="FNanchor_B_14" id="FNanchor_B_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_14" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> thrown,<br /> +Let him that takes it, wear it for his own.</i> +</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_13" id="Footnote_A_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_13"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Shews a cap with ears.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_14" id="Footnote_B_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_14"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Flings down the cap and</p></div> + +<p><span class="stgrt"><i>Exit.</i></span><br /></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 235px;"> +<img src="images/i_021.png" width="235" height="244" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DRAMATIS" id="DRAMATIS"></a>Dramatis Personæ.</h2> + + +<h4>MEN.</h4> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Fossile</span>,</td><td align='left' rowspan='3'><span class="ft30">}</span>Doctors.</td><td align='right'>Mr. <i>Johnson</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Possum</span>,</td><td align='right'>Mr. <i>Corey</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Nautilus</span>,</td><td align='right'>Mr. <i>Cross</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Ptisan</span>,</td><td align='left'>Apothecary.</td><td align='right'>Mr. <i>Wright</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Plotwell</span>,</td><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>Mr. <i>Cibber</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Underplot</span>,</td><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>Mr. <i>Penkethman</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sir <span class="smcap">Tremendous</span>,</td><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>Mr. <i>Bowman</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>First <span class="smcap">Player</span>,</td><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>Mr. <i>Diggs</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Second <span class="smcap">Player</span>,</td><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>Mr. <i>Watson</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sailor</span>.</td><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>Mr. <i>Bickerstaff</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>Footmen, Servants, <i>&c.</i></td></tr> +</table></div> +<h4>WOMEN.</h4> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. <span class="smcap">Townley</span>,</td><td align='right'>Mrs. <i>Oldfield</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. <span class="smcap">Phoebe Clinket</span>,</td><td align='right'>Mrs. <i>Bicknet</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sarsnet</span>,</td><td align='right'>Mrs. <i>Garnet</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Prue</span>.</td><td align='right'>Miss <i>Willis</i>.</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;"> +<img src="images/i_023.png" width="640" height="113" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="PLAY" id="PLAY"></a><small><i>Three Hours after</i></small><br /><br /> +<big>MARRIAGE:</big><br /><br /> +<small>A</small><br /><br /> +COMEDY.</h2> + + + +<hr class="half" /> +<h3>ACT I.</h3> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Fossile</span>, leading <span class="smcap">Townley</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Welcome, my bride, into the habitation of +thy husband. The scruples of the parson——</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> And the fatigue of the ceremony——</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Are at last well over.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> These blank licences are wonderful commodious.——The +clergy have a noble command, in +being rangers of the park of matrimony; produce but +a warrant, and they deliver a lady into your possession: +but I have no quarrel with them, since they have +put me into so good hands.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I now proclaim a solemn suspension of arms +between medicine and diseases. Let distempers suspend +their malignant influence, and powders, pills, and +potions their operations. Be this day sacred to my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +love. I had rather hold this hand of thine, than a +dutchess by the pulse.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> And I this, than a hand of matadores.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Who knows but your relations may dispute +my title to your person? come, my dear, the seal of +the matrimonial bond is consummation.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Alas! what will become of me!</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Why are thy eyes fix'd on the ground? why +so slow? and why this trembling?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Ah! heedless creature that I was, to quit +all my relations, and trust myself alone in the hands +of a strange man.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Courage, thou best of my curiosities. Know +that in husband, is comprehended all relations; in +me thou seest a fond father.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Old enough o' my conscience.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> You may, you must trust yourself with me.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Do with me as you please: Yet sure you +cannot so soon forget <a href="#k140_2">the office of the church. Marriage +is not to be undertaken wantonly, like brute +beasts</a>. If you will transgress, the sin be upon your +own head.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Great indeed is thy virtue, and laudable is +thy modesty. Thou art a virgin, and I a philosopher; +but learn, that no animal action, <i>quatenus animal</i>, +is unbecoming of either of us. But hold! +where am I going? Prithee, my dear, of what age +art thou?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> <a href="#k140_1">Almost three and twenty</a>.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> And I almost at my grand climacterick. +What occasion have I for a double-night at these +years? She may be an Alcmena, but alas! I am no +thunderer.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> You seem somewhat disturb'd; I hope you +are well, Mr. Fossile.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> What business have I in the bed-chamber, +when the symptoms of age are upon me? Yet hold, +this is the famous corroborative of Crollius; in this +vial are included sons and daughters. Oh, for a +draught of the <i>aqua magnanimitatis</i> for a vehicle!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +fifty drops of <i>liquid laudanum</i> for her dose would but +just put us upon a <i>par</i>. <i>Laudanum</i> would settle the +present ataxy of her animal spirits, and prevent her +being too watchful.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>aside</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter a Servant.</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Sir, your <a href="#k141">pistachoe-porridge</a> is ready.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Now I think of it, my dear; Venus, which +is in the first degree of Capricorn, does not culminate +till ten; an hour if astrology is not fallible, +successful in generation.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I am all obedience, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> How shall I reward thee for so much Goodness? +let our wedding as yet be a secret in the +family. In the mean time I'll introduce my niece +Phœbe Clinket to your acquaintance: but alas, +the poor girl has a procidence of the pineal gland, +which has occasioned a rupture in her understanding. +I took her into my house to regulate my oeconomy; +but instead of puddings, she makes pastorals; +or when she should be raising paste, is raising some +ghost in a new tragedy. In short, my house is haunted +by all the underling players, broken booksellers, +half-voic'd singing-masters, and disabled dancing-masters +in town. In a former will I had left her +my estate; but I now resolve that heirs of my own +begetting shall inherit. Yonder she comes in her +usual occupation. Let us mark her a while.</p> + +<p class="stgdir1"><i>Enter Clinket and her maid bearing a writing-desk on +her back. Clinket writing, her head dress stain'd +with ink, and pens stuck in her hair.</i></p> + +<p><i>Maid.</i> I had as good carry a raree-show about +the streets. Oh! how my back akes!</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> What are the labours of the back to those +of the brain? thou scandal to the muses. I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +now lost a thought worth a folio, by thy impertinance.</p> + +<p><i>Maid.</i> Have not I got a crick in my back already, +that will make me good for nothing, with +lifting your great books?</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Folio's, call them, and not great books, +thou monster of impropriety: But have patience, and +I will remember the three gallery-tickets I promis'd +thee at my new tragedy.</p> + +<p><i>Maid.</i> I shall never get my head-cloaths clear-starch'd +at this rate.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Thou destroyer of learning, thou worse +than a book-worm; thou hast put me beyond all patience. +Remember how my lyrick ode bound about +a tallow-candle; thy wrapping up snuff in an epigram; +nay, the unworthy usage of my hymn to Apollo, filthy +creature! read me the last lines I writ upon the +deluge, and take care to pronounce them as I taught +you.</p> + +<p> +<i>Maid.</i> Swell'd with a dropsy, sickly nature lies,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And melting in a diabetes, dies.</span><br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Reads with an affected tone.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Still without cadence!</p> + +<p><i>Maid.</i> Swell'd with a dropsy——</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Hold. I conceive——<br /> +The roaring seas o'er the tall woods have broke,<br /> +And whales now perch upon the sturdy oak.<br /> +Roaring? stay. Rumbling, roaring, rustling, no; raging seas. <span class="stgrt">[<i>Writing.</i></span><br /> +The raging seas o'er the tall woods have broke,<br /> +Now perch, thou whale, upon the sturdy oak.<br /> +Sturdy oak? no; steady, strong, strapping, stiff. Stiff? no, stiff is too short.</p> + +<p class="stgdir"><span class="smcap">Fossile</span> and <span class="smcap">Townley</span> come forward.</p> + +<p class="noidt"> +What feast for fish! Oh too luxurious treat!<br /> +When hungry dolphins feed on butchers meat.<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Niece, why niece, niece? oh, Melpomene, +thou goddess of tragedy, suspend thy influence for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +moment, and suffer my niece to give me a rational +answer. This lady is a friend of mine; her present +circumstances oblige her to take sanctuary in my +house; treat her with the utmost civility. Let the +tea-table be made ready.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Madam, excuse this absence of mind; my +animal spirits had deserted the avenues of my senses, +and retired to the recesses of the brain, to contemplate +a beautiful idea. I could not force the vagrant +creatures back again into their posts, to move those +parts of the body that express civility.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> A rare affected creature this! if I mistake +not, flattery will make her an useful tool for my purpose.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exeunt</i> Townley, Clinket, <i>and</i> Maid.</span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Her jewels, her strong box, and all her +things left behind! if her uncle should discover her +marriage, he may lay an embargo upon her goods.——I'll +send for them.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter a boy with a letter.</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> This is the ho-ho-house.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Child, whom dost thou want?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> Mistress Townley's ma-ma-maid.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> What is your business?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> A l-l-letter.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Who sent this letter?</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> O-o-one.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Give it me, child. An honest boy. Give +it me, and I'll deliver it myself. A very honest +boy.</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> So.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit boy.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> There are now no more secrets between us. +Man and wife are one.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>'Madam, either I mistake the encouragement I +have had, or I am to be happy to-night. I +hope the same person will compleat her good +offices: I stand to articles. The ring is a +fine one; and I shall have the pleasure of putting +it on the first time.'</p> + +<p class="center">This from your impatient, R. P.</p></div> + +<p>In the name of Beelzebub, what is this? encouragement! +happy to-night! same person! good offices! +whom hast thou married, poor Fossile? couldst +thou not still divert thyself with the <a href="#k144">spoils of quarries</a> +and coal-pits, thy serpents and thy salamanders, but +thou must have a living monster too! 'sdeath! what +a jest shall I be to our club! is there no rope among +my curiosities? shall I turn her out of doors, and +proclaim my infamy; or lock her up and bear my +misfortunes? lock her up! impossible. One may +shut up volatile spirits, pen up the air, confine bears, +lyons and tygers, nay, keep even your gold: but a +wanton wife, who can keep?</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Townley</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Mrs. Clinket's play is to be read this morning +at the tea-table: will you come and divert yourself, +Sir?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> No: I want to be alone.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I hope my company is not troublesome already. +I am as yet a bride; not a wife. [<i>sighs.</i>] +What means this sudden change? [<i>Aside.</i>] Consider, +Mr. Fossile, you want your natural rest: the bed +would refresh you. Let me sit by you.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> My head akes, and the bed always makes it +worse.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Is it hereabouts?<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>rubbing his temples.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Too sure.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Turns from her.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Why so fretful, Mr. Fossile?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> No, I'll dissemble my passion, and pump +her. [<i>Aside.</i>] Excess of joy, my dear, for my good +fortune overcomes me. I am somewhat vertiginous, +I can hardly stand.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I hope I was ordain'd for thy support.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> My disorder now begins to dissipate: it was +only a little flatulency, occasion'd by something hard +of digestion. But pray, my dear, did your uncle +shut you up so close from the conversation of mankind?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Sarsnet and <a href="#k145">Shock</a> were my only company.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> A very prudent young woman this Sarsnet; +she was undoubtedly a good and faithful friend in +your solitude.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> When it was her interest; but I made no +intimacies with my chamber-maid.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> But was there no lover offer'd his service to +a lady in distress.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Tongue, be upon thy guard: these questions +must be design'd to trap me. [<i>Aside.</i>] A woman +of my condition can't well escape importunity.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> What was the name of that disagreeable fellow, +who, you told me, teaz'd you so?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> His name? I think he had a thousand +names. In one letter he was Myrtillo, in another +Corydon, Alexis, and I don't know what.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Sarsnet</span> in haste to her mistress: He runs and +embraces her with great earnestness.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Dear Mrs. Sarsnet, how am I oblig'd to thee +for thy services: thou hast made me happy beyond +expression.——I shall find another letter upon +her.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>He gets his hand into Sarsnet's pocket, as +searching for a letter.</i></p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>Whenever Sarsnet goes to whisper her mistress, +he gets between them.</i></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Ptisan</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Ptis.</i> Mrs. Colloquintida complains still of a dejection +of appetite; she says that the genevre is too +cold for her stomach.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Give her a quieting draught; but let us not +interrupt one another. Good Mr. Ptisan, we are upon +business.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Fossile gets between Sarsnet and Townley.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Ptis.</i> The colonel's spitting is quite suppress'd.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Give him a quieting draught. Come to +morrow, Mr. Ptisan; I can see no body till then.</p> + +<p><i>Ptis.</i> Lady Varnish finds no benefit of the waters; +for the pimple on the tip of her nose still continues.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Give her a quieting draught.</p> + +<p><i>Ptis.</i> Mrs. Prudentia's tympany grows bigger and +bigger. What, no pearl cordial! must I quiet them +all?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Give them all quieting draughts, I say, or +blister them all, as you please. Your servant Mr. +Ptisan.</p> + +<p><i>Ptis.</i> But then lady Giddy's vapours. She calls +her chamber-maids nymphs; for she fancies herself +Diana, and her husband Acteon.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I can attend no patient till to morrow. Give +her a quieting draught, I say.</p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>Whenever Fossile goes to conduct Ptisan to the +door, Sarsnet and Townley attempt to whisper; +Fossile gets between them, and Ptisan takes +that opportunity of coming back.</i></p> + +<p><i>Ptis.</i> Then, sir, there is miss Chitty of the boarding-school +has taken in no natural sustenance for +this week, but a halfpeny worth of charcoal, and +one of her mittens.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Sarsnet, do you wait on Mr Ptisan to the +door. To morrow let my patients know I'll visit +round.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>A knocking at the door.</i></span><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Ptis.</i> Oh, Sir; here is a servant of the countess +of Hippokekoana. The emetick has over-wrought +and she is in convulsions.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> This is unfortunate. Then I must go. Mr. +Ptisan, my dear, has some business with me in +private. Retire into my closet a moment, and divert +yourself with the pictures. There lies your +way, madam.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>To Sarsnet.</i></span><br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Townley at one door and Sarsnet at +the other.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<p class="noidt">Mr. Ptisan, pray, do you run before, and tell them +I am just coming.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Ptisan.</i></span><br /></p> +<p class="noidt">All my distresses come on the neck of one another. +Should this fellow get to my bride before I have +bedded her, in a collection of cuckolds, what a rarity +should I make! what shall I do? I'll lock her +up. Lock up my bride? <a href="#k147">my pace and my honour</a> +demand it, and it shall be so. [<i>Locks the door.</i>] +Thomas, Thomas!</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter footman.</p> + +<p class="noidt">I dream't last night I was robb'd. The town is +over-run with rogues. Who knows but the rascal +that sent the letter may be now in the house? +[<i>Aside.</i>] Look up the chimney, search all the dark +closets, the coal hole, the flower-pots, and forget +not the empty butt in the cellar. Keep a strict +watch at the door, and let no body in till my return.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit footman. A noise at the closet-door.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p>(<i>within.</i>) Who's there?——I'm lock'd in. +Murder! fire!</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Dear madam, I beg your pardon.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>Unlocks the door.</i> Enter <span class="smcap">Townley</span>.]</p> + +<p class="noidt">'Tis well you call'd. I am so apt to lock this +door; an action meerly mechanical, not spontaneous.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Your conduct, Mr. Fossile, for this quarter +of an hour has been somewhat mysterious. It +has suggested to me what I almost blush to name; +your locking me up, confirms this suspicion. Pray +speak plainly, what has caused this alteration?<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Fossile shews her the letter.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="noidt">Is this all?<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Gives him the letter back.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> (reads) Either I mistake the encouragement +I have had. What encouragement?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> From my uncle,——if I must be your +interpreter.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Or I am to be happy to night.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> To be married.——If there can be happiness +in that state.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I hope the same person.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Parson. Only a word mis-pell'd.——Here's +jealousy for you!</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Will compleat her good offices. A she-parson, +I find!</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> He is a Welshman. And the Welsh always +say her instead of his.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I stand to articles.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Of jointure.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> The ring is a fine one, and I shall have the +pleasure of putting it on my self.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Who should put on the wedding-ring but +the bridegroom.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I beseech thee, pardon thy dear husband. +Love and jealousy are often companions, and excess +of both had quite obnubilated the eyes of my +understanding.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Barbarous man! I could <a href="#k148">forgive thee, if +thou hadst poison'd my father, debauch'd my sister, +kill'd my lapdog</a>; but to murder my reputation!<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Weeps</i></span><br /></p> + + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Nay, I beseech thee, forgive me.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Kneels.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I do: but upon condition your jealous +fit never returns. To a jealous man a whisper is evidence, +and a dream demonstration. A civil letter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +makes him thoughtful, an innocent visit mad. I +shall try you, Mr. Fossile; for don't think I'll be deny'd +company.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Nay, prithee, my dear; I own I have abused +thee. But lest my marriage, and this simple +story should take air in the neighbourhood, to morrow +we will retire into the country together, till the +secret is blown over. I am call'd to a patient. In +less than half an hour I'll be with you again, my +dear.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Fossile.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Plotwell's letter had like to have ruin'd +me. 'Twas a neglect in me, not to intrust him with +the secret of my marriage. A jealous bridegroom! +every poison has its antidote; as credulity is the +cause, so it shall be the cure of his jealousy. To +morrow I must be spirited away into the country; I'll +immediately let Plotwell know of my distress: and +this little time with opportunity, even on his wedding-day, +shall finish him a compleat husband. Intrigue +assist me! and I'll act a revenge that might +have been worthy the most celebrated wife in Boccace.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Plotwell</span> and <span class="smcap">Clinket</span>.</p> + +<p class="noidt">Hah! Plotwell! which way got he hither? I must +caution him to be upon his guard.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Madam, I am agreeably surpriz'd to find +you here.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Me, Sir? you are certainly mistaken, for +I don't remember I ever saw you before.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Madam, I beg your pardon. How like a +truth sounds a lye from the tongue of a fine woman.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<p><i>Clink.</i> This, Madam, is Mr. Plotwell; a Gentleman +who is so infinitely obliging, as to introduce +my play on the theatre, by fathering the unworthy +issue of my muse, at the reading it this morning.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> I should be proud, madam, to be a real father +to any of your productions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Mighty just. Ha, ha, ha. You know, +Mr. Plotwell, that both a parrot and a player can utter +human sounds, but we allow neither of them to be +a judge of wit. Yet some of those people have had +the assurance to deny almost all my performances the +privilege of being acted. Ah! what a <i>Goût de travers</i> +rules the understanding of the illiterate!</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> There are <a href="#k150">some, madam, that nauseate the +smell of a rose</a>.</p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>Whenever Plotwell and Townley endeavour to +talk, she interrupts them.</i></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> If this piece be not rais'd to the sublime, +let me henceforth be stigmatiz'd as a reptile in the +dust of mediocrity. I am persuaded, Sir, your adopted +child will do you no dishonour.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Pray, madam, what is the subject?</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Oh! beyond every thing. So adapted for +tragical machines! so proper to excite the passions! +not in the least encumber'd with episodes! the vraysemblance +and the miraculous are linkt together with +such propriety.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> But the subject, madam?</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> The universal Deluge, I chose that of +Deucalion and Pyrrha, because neither our stage nor +actors are hallow'd enough for sacred story.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> But, madam——<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>To Townley.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> What just occasion for noble description! +these players are exceeding dilatory.</p> + +<p class="noidt">—In the mean time, Sir, shall I be oblig'd to you +and this lady for the rehearsal of a scene that I have +been just touching up with some lively strokes.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I dare assure you, madam, it will be a +pleasure to us both. I'll take this occasion to inform +you of my present circumstances.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>To Plotwell.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Imagine Deucalion and Pyrrha in their +boat. They pass by a promontory, where stands +prince Hæmon a former lover of Pyrrah's, ready to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +be swallowed up by the devouring flood. She presses +her husband to take him into the boat. Your part, +Sir, is Hæmon; the lady personates Pyrrha; and I +represent Deucalion. To you, Sir.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Gives Plotwell the manuscript.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> What ho, there sculler!<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>reads.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> ——Hæmon!</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> ———Yes, 'tis Hæmon!</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Thou seest me now sail'd from my former lodgings,<br /> +Beneath a husband's ark; yet fain I would reward<br /> +Thy proffer'd love. But Hæmon, ah, I fear<br /> +Tomorrow's eve will hide me in the country.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Not a syllable in the part! wrong, all +wrong!</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Through all the town, with diligent enquiries,<br /> +I sought my Pyrrha——</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Beyond all patience! the part, Sir, lies +before you; you are never to perplex the drama with +speeches extempore.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Madam, 'tis what the top players often do.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Though love denies, companion bids me +save thee.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Plotwell kisses her.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Fye, Mr. Plotwell; this is against all the +decorum of the stage; I will no more allow the libertinism +of lip-embraces than the barbarity of killing +on the stage; your best tragedians, like the ladies +of quality in a visit, never turn beyond the back-part +of the cheek to a salute, as thus Mr. Plotwell.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Kisses Plotwell.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> I don't find in Aristotle any precept against +killing.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Yet I would not stand upon the brink of +an indecorum.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> True, madam, the finishing stroke of love +and revenge should never shock the eyes of an audience. +But I look upon a kiss in a comedy to be upon +a par with a box on the ear in a tragedy, which is frequently +given and taken by your best authors.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Mighty just! for a lady can no more put +up a kiss than a gentleman a box on the ear.<br /> +Take my muse, Sir, into your protection [<i>Gives him +her play</i>] the players I see are here. Your personating +the author will infallibly introduce my play on +the stage, and spite of their prejudice, make the theatre +ring with applause, and teach even <a href="#k152">that injudicious +Canaille</a> to know their own interest.<br /> +<span class="stgrt"><i>Exit.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 235px;"> +<img src="images/i_036.png" width="235" height="238" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;"> +<img src="images/i_037.png" width="640" height="132" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h3>ACT II.</h3> + + +<p class="stgdir1"><span class="smcap">Plotwell</span>, <span class="smcap">Townley</span>, <span class="smcap">Clinket</span>, with Sir +<span class="smcap">Tremendous</span> and two Players, discovered seated +round a Table.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Gentlemen, this lady who smiles on my +performances, has permitted me to introduce you and +my tragedy to her tea-table.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Gentlemen, you do me honour.</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> Suffer us, Sir, to recommend to your +acquaintance, the famous Sir Tremendous, the greatest +critick of our age.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Sir Tremendous, I rejoice at your presence; +though no lady that has an antipathy, so sweats at a cat +as some authors at a critick. Sir Tremendous, madam, +is a Gentleman who can instruct the town to dislike +what has pleased them, and to be pleased with +what they disliked.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Alas! what signifies one good palate +when the taste of the whole town is viciated. There +is not in all this Sodom of ignorance ten righteous +criticks, who do not judge things backward,</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> I perfectly agree with Sir Tremendous: +your modern tragedies are such egregious stuff, they +neither move terror nor pity.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Yes, madam, the pity of the audience on the +first night, and the terror of the author for the third. +Sir Tremendous's plays indeed have rais'd a sublimer +passion, astonishment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> I perceive here will be a wit-combat between +these beaux-esprits. Prue, be sure you set down +all the similes.</p> + +<p class="stgdir1"><i>Prue retires to the back part of the stage with pen +and ink.</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> The subjects of most modern plays are +as ill chosen as——</p> + +<p><i>Plotw.</i> The patrons of their dedications.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Clink. makes signs to Prue.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Their plots as shallow——</p> + +<p><i>Plotw.</i> As those of bad poets against new plays</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Their episodes as little of a piece to +the main action, as——</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> A black gown with a pink-colour'd petticoat. +Mark that, Prue.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Their sentiments are so very delicate—</p> + +<p><i>Plotw.</i> That like whipt syllabub they are lost before +they are tasted.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Their diction so low, that—that—</p> + +<p><i>Plotw.</i> Why, that their friends are forced to call +it simplicity.</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> Sir to the play if you please.</p> + +<p>2d <i>Play.</i> We have a rehearsal this morning.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> And then their thefts are so open——</p> + +<p><i>Plotw.</i> that the very French taylors can discover +them.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> O what felony from the ancients! what +petty larceny from the moderns! there is the famous +Ephigenia of Racine, he stole his Agamemnon +from Seneca, who stole it from Euripides, who +stole it from Homer, who stole it from all the +ancients before him. In short there is nothing so +execrable as our most taking tragedies.</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> O! but the immortal Shakespeare, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> He had no judgnent.</p> + +<p>2d <i>Play.</i> The famous ben Johmson!</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Dry.</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> The tender Otway!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Incorrect.</p> + +<p>2d <i>Play.</i> Etheridge!</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Mere chit-chat.</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> Dryden!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Nothing but a knack of versifying.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Ah! dear Sir Tremendous, there is that +delicatesse in your sentiments!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Ah madam! there is that justness in your +notions!</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> I am so much charm'd with your manly penetration!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> I with your profound capacity!</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> That I am not able—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> That it is impossible—</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> To conceive—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> To express—</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> With what delight I embrace—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> With what pleasure I enter into—</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Your ideas, most learned Sir Tremendous!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Your sentiments, most divine Mrs. +Clinket.</p> + +<p>2d <i>Play.</i> The play, for heaven's sake, the play.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>A tea-table brought in.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> This finish'd drama is too good for an +age like this.</p> + +<p><i>Plotw.</i> The Universal Deluge, or the tragedy of +Deucalion and Pyrrha.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Reads</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Mr. Plotwell, I will not be deny'd the +pleasure of reading it, you will pardon me.</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> The deluge! the subject seems to be +too recherche.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> A subject untouch'd either by ancients or +moderns, in which are terror and pity in perfection.</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> The stage will never bear it. Can you +suppose, Sir, that a box of ladies will sit three hours +to see a rainy day, and a feather in a storm; make +your best of it, I know it can be nothing else.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>2d <i>Play.</i> If you please, madam, let us hear how +it opens.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> [<i>reads.</i>] The scene opens and discovers the +heavens cloudy. A prodigious shower of rain. At a +distance appears the top of the mountain Parnassus; all +the fields beneath are over-flowed; there are seen cattle +and men swimming. The tops of steeples rise above +the flood, with men and women perching on +their weathercocks——</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Begging your pardon, Sir, I believe it +can be proved, that weather-cocks are of a modern +invention. Besides, <a href="#k156">if stones were dissolved, as a late +philosopher hath proved</a>, how could steeples stand?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> I don't insist upon trifles. Strike it out.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Strike it out! consider what you do. In +this they strike at the very foundation of the drama. +Don't almost all the persons of your second act start +out of stones that Deucalion and Pyrrha threw behind +them? This cavil is levell'd at the whole system of +the reparation of human race.</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> Then the shower is absurd.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Why should not this gentleman rain, as +well as other authors snow and thunder?—— —— +[<i>reads.</i>] Enter Deucalion in a sort of waterman's habit, +leading his wife Pyrrha to a boat—Her first distress +is about her going back to fetch a casket of jewels. +Mind, how he imitates your great authors. +The first speech has all the fire of Lee.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Tho' heav'n wrings all the sponges of the sky,<br /> +And pours down clouds, at once each cloud a sea.<br /> +Not the spring tides——<br /> +</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> There were no spring tides in the Mediteranean, +and consequently Deucalion could not +make that simile.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> A man of Deucalion's quality might have +travelled beyond the Mediteranean, and so your objection +is answered. Observe, Sir Tremendous, the +tenderness of Otway, in this answer of Pyrrha.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p class="poem"> + ————— Why do the stays<br /> +Taper my waist, but for thy circling arms?<br /> +</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Ah! Anachronisms! Stays are a modern +habit, and the whole scene is monstrous, and against +the rules of tragedy.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> I submit Sir,—out with it.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Were the play mine, you should gash my +flesh, mangle my face, any thing sooner than scratch +my play.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Blot and insert wherever you please——I +submit myself to your judgment.</p> + +<p class="stgdir"><i>Plotwell rises and discourses apart with Townley.</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Madam, nonsense and I have been at +variance from my cradle, it sets my understanding on +edge.</p> + +<p>2d <i>Play.</i> Indeed, madam, with submission, and +I think I have some experience of the stage, this play +will hardly take.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> The worst lines of it would be sufficiently +clapt, if it had been writ by a known author, or recommended +by one.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Between you and I, madam, who understand +better things, this gentleman knows nothing +of poetry.</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> The gentleman may be an honest man, +but he is a damn'd writer, and it neither can take, +nor ought to take.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> If you are the gentleman's friend, and +value his reputation, advise him to burn it.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> What struggles has an unknown author to +vanquish prejudice! Suppose this play acts but six +nights, his next may play twenty. Encourage a +young author, I know it will be your interest.</p> + +<p>2d <i>Play.</i> I would sooner give five hundred pounds +than bring some plays on the stage; an audience little +considers whether 'tis the author or the actor that +is hiss'd, our character suffers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> Damn our character—We shall lose money +by it.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> I'll deposit a sum myself upon the success +of it. Well, since it is to be play'd—I will prevail +upon him to strike out some few things.—Take the +play, Sir Tremendous.</p> + +<p class="stgdir"><i>Sir Tremendous reads in a muttering tone.</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Absurd to the last degree [<i>strikes out.</i>] +palpable nonsense! [<i>strikes out.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> What all those lines! spare those for a lady's +sake, for those indeed, I gave him.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> Such stuff! [<i>strikes out.</i>] abominable! +[<i>strikes out.</i>] most execrable!</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> This thought must out.</p> + +<p>2d <i>Play.</i> Madam, with submission, this metaphor.</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> This whole speech.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> The Fable!</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> To you I answer,—</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> The characters!</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> To you I answer—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Trem.</i> The diction!</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> And to you—Ah, hold, hold,—I'm butcher'd, +I'm massacred. For mercy's sake! murder, +murder! ah!<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>faints.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir"><i>Enter Fossile peeping at the door.</i></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> My house turn'd to a stage! and my bride +playing her part too! What will become of me? but +I'll know the bottom of all this. [<i>aside.</i>] I am surprized +to see so many patients here so early. What is your +distemper, Sir?</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> The cholic, Sir, by a surfeit of green +tea and damn'd verses.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Your pulse is very high, madam. [<i>To Townley.</i>] +You sympathize, I perceive, for yours is somewhat +feverish. [<i>To Plotwell.</i>] But I believe I shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +be able to put off the fit for this time. And as for +you, niece, you have got the poetical itch, and are +possess'd with nine devils, your nine muses; and thus +I commit them and their works to the flames. [<i>Takes +up a heap of papers and flings them into the fire.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Ah! I am an undone woman.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Has he burnt any bank-bills, or a new +Mechlin head-dress?</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> My works! my works!</p> + +<p>1st <i>Play.</i> Has he destroyed the writings of an estate, +or your billet doux?</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> A Pindarick ode! five similes! and half an +epilogue!</p> + +<p>2d <i>Play.</i> Has he thrown a new fan or your pearl +necklace into the flames?</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Worse, worse! The tag of the acts of a +new comedy! a prologue sent by a person of quality +three copies of recommendatory verses! and two +Greek mottos!</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Gentlemen, if you please to walk out.</p> + +<p>2d <i>Play.</i> You shall have our positive answer concerning +your tragedy, madam, in an hour or two.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Sir Tremendous, Plotwell and Players.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Though this affair looks but ill; yet I will +not be over-rash: What says Lybanius? 'A false accusation +often recoils upon the accuser;' and I have +suffered already by too great precipitation.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Fossile.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Sarsnet</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> A narrow escape, Sarsnet! Plotwells letter +was intercepted and read by my husband.</p> + +<p><i>Sars.</i> I tremble every joint of me. How came +you off?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Invention flow'd, I ly'd, he believ'd. +True wife, true husband!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Sars.</i> I have often warned you, madam, against +this superfluity of gallants; you ought at least to have +clear'd all mortgages upon your person before you +leas'd it out for life. Then, besides Plotwell, you +are every moment in danger of Underplot, who attends +on Plotwell like his shadow; he is unlucky enough +to stumble upon your husband, and then I'm +sure his shatterbrains would undo us at once.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Thy wit and industry, Sarsnet, must +help me out. To day is mine, to morrow is my +husband's.</p> + +<p><i>Sars.</i> But some speedy method must be thought of, +to prevent your letters from falling into his hands.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I can put no confidence in my landlady +Mrs. Chambers, since our quarrel at parting. So I +have given orders to her maid to direct all letters and +messages hither, and I have plac'd my own trusty servant +Hugh at the door to receive them—but see, yonder +comes my husband, I'll retire to my closet.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Townley and Sarsnet.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Fossile</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> O marriage, thou bitterest of potions, and +thou strongest of astringents. This Plotwell that I +found talking with her must certainly be the person +that sent the letter. But if I have a Bristol stone put +upon me instead of a diamond, why should I by experiments +spoil its lustre? She is handsome, that is +certain. Could I but keep her to myself for the future! +Cuckoldom is an accute case, it is quickly over; +when it takes place, it admits of no remedy but palliatives.——Be +it how it will, while my marriage is +a secret——</p> + +<p><i>Within.</i> Bless the noble doctor Fossile and his honourable +lady. The city musick are come to wish +him much joy of his marriage.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>A flourish of fiddles.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Joy and marriage; never were two words so +coupled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Within.</i> Much happiness attend the learned doctor +Fossile and his worthy and virtuous lady. The +drums and trumpets of his majesty's guards are come +to salute him——<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>A flourish of Drums and +Trumpets.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Ah, Fossile! wretched Fossile! into what +state hast thou brought thy self! thy disgrace proclaim'd +by beat of drum! New married men are +treated like those bit by a Tarantula, both must +have musick: But where are the notes that can expell +a wife!<br /> +<span class="stgrt"><i>Exit.</i></span><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 235px;"> +<img src="images/i_045.png" width="235" height="238" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;"> +<img src="images/i_046.png" width="640" height="125" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h3>ACT III.</h3> + + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Fossile</span> in a footman's cloaths,</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> A Special dog; this footman of my wife's! +as mercenary as the porter of a first minister! +Why should she place him as a centinal at my +door? unquestionably, to carry on her intrigues. +Why did I bribe him to lend me his livery? to discover +those intrigues. And now, O wretched Fossile, +thou hast debas'd thyself into the low character of a +footman. What then? gods and demi gods have assum'd +viler shapes: they, to make a cuckold; I, to +prove myself one. Why then should my metamorphosis +be more shameful, when my purpose is more +honest?</p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>Knocking at the door, enter footman.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Foot.</i> Ay, this is her livery. Friend, give this to +your mistress.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Gives a letter to Fossile and exit.</i>]</span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Fossile.</i> [<i>reads</i>] 'Madam, you have jilted me. +What I gave you cost me dear; what you might +have given me, would have cost you nothing. You +shall use my next present with more respect. I presented +you a fine snuff-box; you gave it to that coxcomb +Underplot, and Underplot gave it to my wife. +Judge of my surprise.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">'Freeman.'</span><br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>A fine circulation of a snuff-box! in time I shall +have the rarest of my shells set off with gold hinges, +to make presents to all the fops about town. My +<i>Conchæ Veneris</i>; and perhaps, even my <i>Nautilus</i>.</p> + +<p class="stgdir"><i>A knocking at the door. Enter an old woman.</i></p> + +<p><i>Old Wom.</i> Can I speak with your good mistress, +honest friend?</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> No, she's busy.</p> + +<p><i>Old Wom.</i> Madam Wyburn presents her service +and has sent this letter.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Fossile.</i> [<i>reads</i>] 'Being taken up with waiting upon +merchants ladies this morning, I have sent to acquaint +you, my dear sweet Mrs. Townley, that the +alderman agrees to every thing but putting away his +wife, which he says is not decent at that end of the +town. He desires a meeting this evening.'</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Postscript.</p> + +<p>'He does not like the grocer's wife at all.'</p> + +<p>Bless me! what a libidinous age we live in! neither +his own wife! nor the grocer's wife! Will people +like nobody's wife but mine!</p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>Knocking at the door. Enter footman, gives a letter, +and exit.</i>]</p> + +<p class="stgdir"><i>Enter another footman gives a letter, and exit.</i></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> [<i>reads</i>] 'Sincerely, madam, I cannot spare +that sum; especially in monthly payments. My +good friend and neighbour Pinch, a quiet sober +man, is content to go a third part, only for leave to +visit upon sabbath days.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">'Habakkuk Plumb.'</span><br /></p> + +<p>'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>Well, frugallity is laudable even in iniquity! Now +for this other.</p> + +<p class="stgdir"><i>Opens the second letter.</i></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> [<i>reads</i>] 'Madam, I can't make you rich, +but I can make you immortal.</p> + +<p>Verses on Mrs. Susanna Townley, in the front box +dress'd in green.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +In you the beauties of the spring are seen,<br /> +Your cheeks are roses, and your dress is green.<br /> +</p> + +<p>A poor dog of a poet! I fear him not.</p> + +<p class="stgdir"><i>Enter a ragged fellow with a letter.</i></p> + +<p><i>Foot.</i> My master is at present under a cloud——He +begs you will deliver this letter to your lady.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> [<i>reads</i>] 'I am reduced by your favours to +ask the thing I formerly deny'd; that you would +entertain me as a husband, who can no longer keep +you as a mistress.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">'Charles Bat.'</span><br /></p> + +<p>Why did I part with this fellow? This was a proposal +indeed, to make both me and himself happy at +once! He shall have her, and a twelve-month's fees +into the bargain. Where shall I find him?—Why +was the mistress of all mankind unknown to thee alone? +Why is nature so dark in our greatest concerns? +Why are there no external symptoms of defloration, +nor any pathognomick of the loss of virginity but a +big belly? Why has not lewdness its tokens like the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +plague? Why must a man know rain by the aking of his +corns, and have no prognostick of what is of infinitely +greater moment, cuckoldom? Or if there are any marks +of chastity, why is the enquiry allowed only to Turks +and Jews, and denyed to Christians? O Townley, +Townley! once to me the fragrant rose; now aloes, +wormwood and snake-root! but I must not be seen.</p> + +<p class="stgdir"><i>As Townley and Sarsnet enter, Fossile sneaks off.</i></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Sarsnet, we are betray'd. I have discovered +my husband posted at the door in Hugh's +livery, he has intercepted all my letters. I immediately +writ this, which is the only thing that can +bring us off. Run this moment to Plotwell, get +him to copy it, and send it directed to me by his +own servant with the utmost expedition. He is now +at the chocolate-house in the next street.</p> + +<p><i>Sars.</i> I fly, madam; but how will you disengage +yourself from the affair with Underplot?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Leave it to me. Though he wants sense, +he's handsome, and I like the fellow; and if he is +lucky enough to come in my husband's absence.——But +prithee Sarsenet make haste.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>Exit Townley and Sarsenet, upon which Fossile +re-enters, to him Underplot.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Harke'e, friend. I never talk with one +of your coat, but I first tip him.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Behold the lucre of a pimp! Between the pox +abroad, and my plague at home, I find a man may +never want fees. [<i>aside.</i>] Your honour's commands, +I pray. I long to serve you.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Ah, boy! thou hast a rare mistress for vails. +Come I know thou art a sly dog; can'st thou introduce +me to her for a moment's conversation?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Impossible.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> What, still impossible?<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Gives more money.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Still impossible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Poh, pox. But prithee, friend, by the +by, is there any thing in this report that she is marry'd +to the doctor here?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I am afraid there is something in it.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> What a spirit does a jealous husband give +to an intrigue! Pray, is he not a most egregious silly +animal?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Not exceeding wise indeed,</p> + +<p><i>Underp,</i> Rich?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> He has money.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> That will save the expence of her gallants. +Old?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Ay, too old, heaven knows.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> How came it into the puppy's head to +marry?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> By the instigation of Satan.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> I'll help the old fool to an heir.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> No doubt on't. If the whole town can do it, +he will not want one.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Come, prithee deal freely with me, Has +Plotwell been here since the wedding?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> He has! too sure: [<i>aside.</i>] He's a dangerous +rival to you; if you have a mind to succeed, +keep a strict watch upon him, that he may not get +admittance before you.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Well since thou hast shown thyself so +much my friend, I'll let thee into a secret. Plotwell +and I no sooner heard of the wedding, but we +made a bett of a hundred guineas, who should dub +the doctor first. Remember you go twenty pieces +with me.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> But here is some body coming. Away you +are sure of my interest.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Underplot.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> This was well judg'd. I have a small territory +coveted by two rival potentates. It is profound +policy to make them watch one the other, and so +keep the ballance of power in my own hands. Certainly +nothing so improves one's politicks, as to have +a coquet to on'es wife,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter a footman with a letter,</p> + +<p><i>Foot.</i> This is for your lady, Deliver it safe into +her own hands.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Footman.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> [<i>reads.</i>] 'Know, cruel woman, I have discovered +the secret of your marriage; you shall +have all the plague of a jealous husband, +without the pleasure of giving him cause. I +have this morning counterfeited billetdoux and +letters from bawds; nay, I have sent pimps; +some of which, I hope, are fallen into your +old coxcomb's hands. If you deny me the +pleasure of tipping him a real cuckold, at +least, I'll have the resentment to make him +an imaginary one. Know that this is not the +hundredth part of the revenge that shall be +executed upon thee, by<br /> +<span class="stgrt">R. P.'</span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> [<i>peeping.</i>] So. The letter works as I would +have it.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> How true is that saying of the philosopher! +'We only know, that we know nothing.' The eruption +of those horns which seem'd to make so strong +a push is now suppress'd. Is the mystery of all these +letters nothing but the revenge of a disappointed lover? +The hand and seal are just the same with the Welchman's +that I intercepted a while ago. Truly, these +Welch are a hot revengeful people. My wife may +be virtuous; she may not. Prevention is the safest +method with diseases and intrigues. Women are wanton, +husbands weak, bawds busy, opportunities dangerous, +gallants eager; therefore it behoves honest men +to be watchful. But here comes my Wife, I must +hide myself; for should I be detected, she might have +a just cause of complaint for my impertinent curiosity.<br /> +<span class="stgrt"><i>Exit Fossi.</i></span><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Townley</span>; and to her <span class="smcap">Sarsnet</span> at the other +door.</p> + +<p><i>Sars.</i> Your orders, madam, have been executed to +a tittle, and I hope with success.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Extremely well. Just as we could have +wish'd. But I can't forgive that rascal Hugh. To +turn him away would be dangerous. We will rather +take the advantage of the confidence my husband has +in him. Leave the husband to me, and do you discipline +the footman. Such early curiosity must be +crush'd in the bud. Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. [<i>calls aloud, +and rings.</i>] What is become of the rogue?<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Townley runs in, and drags out Fossile changing his +cloaths with Hugh.</i></span><br /> + +Why sirrah! must one call all day for you?<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>cuffs him.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Sars.</i> This is not Hugh, madam; <a href="#k168">a rouge in disguise</a>, +got in to rob the house! thieves, thieves!</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Clinket</span>, <span class="smcap">Prue</span> with the writing-desk, and +servants</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> St. St—no noise. Prithee, dearee, look upon +me. See, see, thy own dear husband. It is I.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> What an unfortunate woman am I! Could +not you pass one day without an intrigue? and with a +cookwench too! for you could put on a livery for no +other end. You wicked man.</p> + +<p><i>Sars.</i> His coldness, madam, is now no longer a +mystery. Filthy monster! wer't not thou provided +with my mistress as a remedy for thy rampant unchastity?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Was all your indeffierence to me for this! +you brute you.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>weeps.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Nay, prithee, dearee, judge not rashly. My +character is establish'd in the world. There lives not +a more sober, chaste, and virtuous person than doctor +Fossile.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Then why this disguise?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Foss,</i> Since it must come out; ha, ha, ha, only a +frolick on my wedding day between Hugh and I. +We had a mind to exhibit a little mummery.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> What joy arises in my soul to see my uncle +in a dramatick character! Since your humour lead +you to the drama, uncle, why would you not consult +a relative muse in your own family? I have always +used you as my physician; and why should not +you use me as your poet?</p> + +<p><i>Foss,</i> Prithee, dear, leave me a moment. This is +a scandal to my gravity. I'll be with you, as my +self, immediately.</p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>Exeunt omnes, except Fossile and Hugh. As they +are changing habits, Fossile says,</i></p> + +<p class="noidt">As a mark of my confidence in thee, I leave thee +guardian of my house while I go my rounds. Let +none in but patients; wan sickly fellows, no person +in the least degree of bodily strength.</p> + +<p><i>Hugh.</i> Worthy doctor, you may rely upon my +honour.<br /> +<span class="stgrt"><i>Exit Fos.</i></span><br /> + +I have betray'd my mistress. My conscience flies in +my face, and I can ease it noway but by betraying +my master.<br /> +<span class="stgrt"><i>Knocking at the door.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p>This is not the doctor; but he is dress'd like +him, and that shall be my excuse.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>He lets Plotwell in, Townley +meets him, they embrace.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Hugh, go, wait at the door.<br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Hugh.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<p><i>Plotw.</i> This disguise gives spirit to my intrigue. +Certainly I am the first person that ever enjoy'd a +bride without the scandal of matrimony.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I have a different relish, Mr. Plotwell, for +now I can't abide you, you are so like my husband.</p> + +<p><i>Plotw.</i> Underplot, I defy thee. I have laid the +wager, and now I hold the stakes.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Opportunity Mr. Potwell, has been the +downfall of much virtue.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>As he is leading her off, enter Hugh.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Hugh.</i> Ah, madam! the doctor! the doctor!<br /> + +<span class="stgrt"><i>Exit Hugh.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Fear nothing. I'll stand it. I have my +part ready.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Townley.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Fossile</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I promised lady <i>Langfort</i> my eagle-stone. +The poor lady is like to miscarry, and 'tis well I +thought on't. Ha! who is here! I do not like the +aspect of the fellow. But I will not be over censorious.</p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>They make many bows and cringes in advancing +to each other.</i></p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> <i>Illustrissime domine, huc adveni</i>—</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> <i>Illustrissime domine——non usus, sum loquere +Latinum</i>——If you cannot speak English, we can +have no lingual conversation.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> I can speak but a little Englise. Me ave +great deal heard of de fame of de great luminary of +all arts and sciences, de illustrious doctor Fossile. I +would make commutation (what do you call it) I +would exchange some of my tings for some of his +tings.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Pray, Sir, what university are you of?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> De famous university of Cracow in Polonia +minor. I have cured de king of Sweden of de +wound. My name be doctor Cornelius Lubomirski.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Your Lubomirskis are a great family. But +what Arcana are you master of, Sir?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> [<i>Shows a large snuff-box.</i>] See dere, Sir, +dat box de snuff.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Snuff-box.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Right. Snuff-box. Dat be de very true +gold.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> What of that?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Vat of dat? me make dat gold my own +self, of de lead of de great church of Crawcow.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> By what operations?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> By calcination; reverberation; purification; +sublimation; amalgamation; precipitation; volitilization.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Have a care what you assert. The volitilization +of gold is not an obvious process. It is by +great elegance of speech called, <i>fortitudo fortitudinis +fortissima</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> I need not acquaint de illustrious doctor +Fossile, dat all de metals be but unripe gold.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Spoken like a philosopher, And therefore +there should be an act of parliament against digging +of lead mines, as against felling young timber. +But inform me, Sir, what might be your menstruum, +snow-water, or May-dew?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Snow-vater.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Right. Snow is the universal pickle of nature +for the preservation of her productions in the +hyemal season.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> If you will go your self, and not trust de +servant, to fetch some of de right Thames sand dat +be below de bridge, I will show you de naked Diana +in your study before I go hence.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Perhaps you might. I am not at present +dispos'd for experiments.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> This bite wont take to send him out of the +way, I'll change my subject. [<i>Aside.</i>] Do you deal in +longitudes, Sir?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I deal not in impossibilities. I search only +for the grand elixir.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Vat do you tink of de new metode of +fluxion?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I know no other but <a href="#k171">my mercury</a>.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Ha, ha. Me mean de fluxion of de quantity.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> The greatest quantity I ever knew, was +three quarts a day.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Be dere any secret in the hydrology, zoology, +minerology, hydraulicks, acausticks, pneumaticks, +logarithmatechny, dat you do want de explanation +of?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> This is all out of my way. Do you know +of any hermaphrodites, monstrous twins, antediluvivian +shells, bones, and vegetables?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Vat tink you of an antediluvian knife, +spoon, and fork, with the mark of Tubal Cain in +Hebrew, dug out of the mine of Babylon?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Of what dimensions, I pray, Sir?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> De spoon be bigger dan de modern ladle; +de fork, like de great fire-fork; and de knife, like +de cleaver.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Bless me! this shows the stature and magnitude +of those antidiluvians!</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> To make you convinced that I tell not de +lie, dey are in de Turkey ship at Vapping, just going +to be disposed of. Me would go there vid you, but +de businss vil not let me.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> An extraordinary man this! I'll examine +him further. [<i>Aside.</i>] How could your country lose so +great a man as you?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Dat be de secret. But because me vil have +de fair correspondence with de illustrious doctor Fossile, +me vil not deny dat Orpheus and me had near +run de same fate for different reason. I was hunted +out of my country by de general insurrection of de +women.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> How so pray?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Because me have prepare a certain liquor +which discover whether a woman be a virgin or no.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> A curious discovery! have you any of it +still?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Dere it is, Sir. It be commonly called de +<i>Lapis Lydius Virginitatis</i>, or touch-stone of virginity.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>gives him a vial.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> It has the smell of your common hart's-horn. +But all your volatile spirits have a near resemblance.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Right, Sir. De distillation be made from +the <i>Hippomanes</i> of a young mare. When a deflower'd +virgin take ten drops, she will faint and sneeze, and +de large red spot appear on the cheek; which we call<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +de spot of infamy. All de young bridegroom make +de experiment. De archbishop did make obligation +to de nun to take it every ninth month. And I fly +for the hurlyburly it make.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Hugh.</i> Sir here is a patient in a chair.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Doctor Lubomirski, let me conduct you into +my study, where we will farther discuss the wonderful +virtues of this liquor. Tell the patient I will attend +him this instant.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exeunt Plotwell and Fossile.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Underplot</span> <a href="#k173">in a chair like a sick man</a>.</p> + +<p><i>Hugh.</i> The doctor will wait upon you immediately.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Hugh.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> I dogg'd Plotwell to this door in a doctor's +habit. If he has admittance as a doctor, why +not I as a patient? Now for a lucky decision of our +wager! If I can't succeed myself, I will at least spoil +his intrigue.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Fossile</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Ah! ah! have you no place? Ah! +where can I repose a little? I was taken suddenly. +Ah! ah! 'tis happy I was so near the house of an eminent +physician.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Rest yourself upon that couch.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> If I lay a few minutes cover'd up warm +in a bed, I believe I might recover.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Fossile feels his pulse. Plotwell peeps.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Underplot in disguise! I'll be his doctor, +and cure him of these frolicks.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>aside.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> What are your symptoms, Sir? a very tempestuous +pulse, I profess!</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Violent head-ach, ah! ah!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> All this proceeds from the fumes of the +kitchen, the stomachic digester wants reparation for +the better concoction of your aliment: But, Sir, +is your pain pungitive, tensive, gravitive, or pulsatory?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> All together, ah!</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Impossible Sir; but I have an eminent +physician now in the house, he shall consult. Doctor +Lubomirski, here is a person in a most violent cephalalgy, +a terrible case!</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Plotwell</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Feel his pulse. [<i>Plotwell feels it.</i>] You feel +it, Sir, strong, hard and labouring.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Great plenitude, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Feel his belly, Sir; a great tension and +heat of the abdomen—A hearty man, his muscles are +torose; how soon are the strongest humbled by diseases! +let us retire, and consult.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Sarsnet</span> in haste.</p> + +<p><i>Sars.</i> My mistress approves your design, bear it +out bravely, perhaps I shall have a sudden opportunity +of conveying you into her bed-chamber, counterfeit a +fainting fit and rely upon me.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> As yet I find I am undiscover'd by Plotwell; +neither is his intrigue in such forwardness as +mine, though he made a fair push for it before me.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>aside.</i></span><br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Fossile and Plotwell come forward.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I am entirely for a glister.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> My opinion is for de strong vomit.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Bleed him.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Make de searrification, give me de lancet, +me will do it myself, and after dat will put de blister +to de sole of de feet,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Your dolor proceeds from a frigid <i>intemperies</i> +of the brain, a strong disease! the enemy has invaded +the very citadel of your microcosm, the magazine +of your vital functions; he has set down before +it; yet there seems to be a good garrison of vital +spirits, and we don't question to be able to defend +it.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Ve will cannonade de enemy with pills, +bombard him wid de bolus, blow him up with volatiles, +fill up the trenches wid de large innundation of +apozems, and dislodge him wid de stink pot; let de +apotecary bring up de artillery of medicine immediately.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> True, we might unload the stomach by gentle +emeticks, and the intestines by clysters stimulative, +carminative, and emollient, with strong hydroticks, +quiet the spasms of the viscera by paregoricks, draw +off the stagnant blood by deep scarrifications, and depurate +its fæculencies by volatiles; after this, let +there be numerous blisters and potential cauteries—I +consult my patient's ease; I am against much physick—He +faints, he is apoplectic, bleed him this moment.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Hoy de servant dere, make hast, bring de +pan of hot coals; or de red hot iron to make application +to de temples.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Hugh.</i> Here's the poker red hot from the fire.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Very well make de burn dere, exactly dere.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>putting the poker near his head.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Hold, hold, am I to be murder'd? +[<i>starts up.</i>] I know you, Plotwell, and was I not +oblig'd by honour and friendship, I'd expose you to +the doctor.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>aside to Plotwell.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Very lunatick, mad, fetch me de cord to +make de tie upon de leg and de arm, take off thirty +ounces of blood, and den plunge him into de cold +bath.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Your judgment, doctor Lubomirski, is excellent, +I will call my servants to assist us.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Hearke'e, old put; I came to take your +advice, and not that French son of a whore's scarrifications; +and so plague take you both.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Underplot and Hugh.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 278px;"> +<img src="images/i_060.png" width="278" height="235" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;"> +<img src="images/i_061.png" width="640" height="104" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h3>ACT IV.</h3> + + +<p class="stgdir">Enter Dr. <span class="smcap">Fossile</span>, and <span class="smcap">Plotwell</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Doctor Lubomirski, this vial that you have +intrusted into my custody, shall be with +acknowledgment return'd after a few experiments; I +must crave your indulgence; diseases, you know, Sir, +are impertinent, and will tie themselves to no hours, +poor lady Hyppokekoana!</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Ah Sir! I beg your pardon, if you make +visit to de patient, me will divert myself in your study +till you make return.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> That cannot be, I have a lady just coming to +consult me in a case of secrecy.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Have you not de wife? me will make conversation +wid de ladies till you come.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> They see no company in the morning, they +are all in <i>deshabilleé</i>; most learned doctor Lubomirski, +your humble servant.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Most illustrious doctor Fossile, me be, with +de profoundest adoration</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> With the greatest admiration</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Your most humble</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Most obedient servant.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Ah, Monsieur, point de ceremonie.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Plotwell.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Hugh</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Hugh, bring me a pint of sack; let your +mistress know I want to see her. Take care that her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +orders be obey'd, and that her trunks and boxes be +immediately brought hither. Sarset will give you +directions.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Hugh. Fossile sits down on a couch.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="noidt">Ah Fossile! if the cares of two hours of a married +life have so reduc'd thee, how long can'st thou hold +out! to watch a wife all day, and have her wake thee +all night! 'twill never do. The <a href="#k178_1">fitigue</a> of three fevers, +six small poxes, and five great ones, is nothing +to that of one wife. Now for my touch-stone; I +will try it upon her presently. If she bear it to day—I +am afraid she will bear it to morrow too.</p> + +<p class="stgdir1"><i>Enter Hugh with a bottle of sack, and after him +Townley. Hugh gives the bottle and glass to Fossile +and exit.</i></p> + +<p class="noidt">Sit down by me, my dear, I was going to refresh myself +with a glass of canary. You look pale. It will +do you good.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Faugh. Wine in the morning!</p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>Fossile drinks and fills again, and drops some of +the liquor into the glass.</i>]</p> + +<p>What is the meaning of this? am I to be poison'd.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>aside.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> You must drink it. Sack is sacred to Hymen; +of it is made the nuptial posset.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Don't press me, Mr. Fossile, I nauseate it. +It smells strangely. There is something in it.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> An ill symptom! she can't bear the smell. +[<i>aside.</i>] Pray, my dear, oblige me.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I'm for none of your flops. I'll fill myself.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I must own, I have put some restorative drops +in it, which are excellent. I may drink it safely. +[<i>aside.</i>] [<i>drinks.</i>] The next glass I prepare for you.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Fills, and <a href="#k178_2">powers some drops in</a>.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>Townley drinks. Fossile runs behind to support +her; then pores upon her cheek, and touches it +with his finger.</i></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Your insolence is insupportable. 'Twas +but this moment you suspected my virtue; and now +my complexion. Put on your spectacles. No red +was ever laid upon these cheeks. I'll fly thee, and +die a maid, rather than live under the same roof with +jealousy and caprice.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> O thou spotless innocence! I cannot refrain +tears of joy. Forgive me, and I'll tell thee all. +These drops have been a secret in our family for many +years. They are call'd the touch-stone of virginity. +The males administer it to the brides on their wedding-day; +and by its virtue have ascertain'd the honour of +the Fossiles from generation to generation. There +are family customs, which it is almost impious to neglect.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Had you married a person of doubtful reputation——But +me, Mr. Fossile!</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I did not indeed suspect thee. But my mother +obliged me to this experiment with her dying +words—My wife is chaste: And to preserve her so, +'tis necessary that I have none but chaste servants about +her. I'll make the experiment on all my female domesticks. +[<i>aside.</i>] I will now, my dear, in thy +presence, put all my family to the trial. Here! bid +my niece, and all the maid-servants come before me.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Calling out.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir"><i>Enter Clinket, Prue, and Servants.</i></p> + +<p>Give ear, all ye virgins: We make proclamation +in the name of the chaste Diana, being resolv'd to +make a solemn essay of the virtue, virginity, and +chastity of all within our walls. We therefore advise, +warn and precaution all spinsters, who know +themselves blemish'd, not on any pretence whatsoever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +to taste these our drops, which will manifest their +shame to the world by visible tokens.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> I abominate all kind of drops. They interrupt +the series of ideas. But <a href="#k180">have the any power</a> +over the virgin's dreams, thoughts, and private meditations?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> No. They do not affect the <i>motus Primo-primi</i>, +or intentions; only actualities, niece.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Then give it me. I can drink as freely of +it as of the waters of Helicon. My love was always +Platonick.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>drinks.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Yet I have known a Platonick lady lodge at +a mid wife's.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>Fossile offers it round.</i>]</p> + +<p>1st <i>Wom.</i> I never take physick.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> That's one. Stand there. My niece professes +herself a Platonick. You are rather a Cartesian.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Ah dear uncle! how do the Platonicks and +Cartesians differ.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> The Platonicks are for idea's, the Cartesians +for matter and motion.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Mr. Fossile, you are too severe.</p> + +<p>2d <i>Wom.</i> I am not a-dry. + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>curtsies.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> There's two. Stand there.</p> + +<p><i>Prue.</i> My mistress can answer for me. She has taken +it.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> She has. But however stand there, among +the Cartesians.</p> + +<p>3d <i>Wom.</i> My innocence would protect me, though +I trod over red-hot iron. Give me a brimmer.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>She takes a mouthful and spits it out again.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> 'Twas a presumptuous thing to gargle with +it: but however, madam, if you please——walk +among the Cartesians.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Two young wenches run away.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Prue, follow me. I have just found a +rhime for my Pindarick.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>They all sneak off.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> All gone! what no more ladies here? no +more ladies! [<i>looking to the audience,</i>] O that I had +but a boarding-school, or a middle gallery!</p> + +<p class="stgdir"><i>Enter Sarsnet, follow'd by two porters +bearing a chest.</i></p> + +<p>Set down the things here: there is no occasion for +carrying them up stairs, since they are to be sent into +the country to morrow.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit porters.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p>What have I done? My marriage, these confounded +whimsies, and doctor Lubomirski, have made me +quite forget poor lady Hippokekoana. She was in +convulsions, and I am afraid dead by this time.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Fossile.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Sars.</i> I have brought you a present, madam, +make good use of it. So I leave you together.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Sarsnet.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>Townley opens the chest: Plotwell, who was cover'd +with a gown and petticoat, gets out.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Never was any thing so lucky. The doctor +is just this minute gone to a patient.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> I tempt dangers enough in your service. I +am almost crippled in this chest-adventure. Oh my +knees! Prithee, my dear, lead me to a bed where I +may strech myself out.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Leading her off.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Sarsnet</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Sars.</i> Oh madam! yonder is the doctor in deep +discourse with Underplot: I fear he has dogg'd me, +and betray'd us. The are both coming back together.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Sarsnet.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> I'll shrink snug into my shell again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> That he may directly pop upon you. The +trunk will be the first place he will examine, have +you no presence of mind? You sit for an intrigue!</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> What shall I do?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Fear not, you shall be <a href="#k182_2">invisible i th is very</a> +spot.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> What do you mean? he's just at the door. +You intend to discover me.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Mistrust me not: You shall walk out before +his face at that very door, though he bring in a +hundred spies, and not one of them shall perceive +you.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Don't trifle. Are you mad? [<i>knocking at +the door.</i>] Nay, now 'tis too late.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Arm thyself with flounces, and fortify +thyself with whalebone; <a href="#k182_1">enter beneath the cupulo of +this petticoat</a>.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> The best security in the world! an old +fellow has seldom any thing to do beneath that circumferance.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> No more but under it immediately.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Plotwell goes under it.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="poem"> +Thus Venus, when approaching foes assail,<br /> +Shields her Æneas with a silken veil.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Fossile</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> O my dear you come opportunely. How +do you like my fancy in this new petticoat? there is +something in it so odd!</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> You have another in your chest much odder. +I want to see that.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> How jaunty the flounces!</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Ay, 'tis plain she would lure me from the +chest; there I shall find him.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>aside.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> The lace! the fringe!</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> All this is nothing to the embroider'd sattin. +Prithee, my dear, give me the key.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Sure never was any thing so prettily disposed. +Observe but the air of it: So <i>degagee</i>! But +the lining is so charming.</p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>She walks to the door, and Fossile to the trunk. +Plotwell kisses her out of the top of the petticoat, +and then goes off.</i>]</p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>As Fossile is cautiously opening the trunk with his +sword drawn, Townley comes up to him.</i>]</p> + +<p>What, more of your frolicks, Mr. Fossile. What +time of the moon is this?</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> This Underplot is a confounded villain, he +would make me jealous of an honest civil gentleman, +only for an opportunity to cuckold me himself. [<i>aside.</i>] +Come, my dear, forget all that is past. I know——I +have proved thee virtuous. <a href="#k183">But prithee, love, leave +me a moment; I expect some Egyptian rarities</a>.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exeunt severally.</i></span><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 235px;"> +<img src="images/i_067.png" width="235" height="236" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;"> +<img src="images/i_068.png" width="640" height="132" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<h3>ACT V.</h3> + + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Fossile</span> with a vial in his hand.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> This is all we have for the flying dragon so +celebrated by antiquity. A cheap purchase! +It cost me but fifteen guineas. But the Jew +made it up in the butterfly and the spider.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter two porters bearing a Mummy.</p> + +<p>Oh! here's my mummy. Set him down. I am +in haste. Tell captain Bantam, I'll talk with him at +the coffee-house.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit porters.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter two porters bearing an Alligator.</p> + +<p>A most stupendous animal! set him down.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit porters.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="noidt">Poor lady Hippokekoana's convulsions! I believe +there is fatality in it, that I can never get to her. Who +can I trust my house to in my absence? Were my +wife as chaste as Lucretia, who knows what an unlucky +minute may bring forth! In cuckoldom, the +art of attack is prodigiously improved beyond the art +of defence. So far it is manifest, Underplot has a +design upon my honour. For the ease of my mind, +I will lock up my wife in this my musæum, 'till my +return.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Townley</span>, and <span class="smcap">Sarsnet</span>.</p> + +<p>You will find something here, my dear, to divert +yourself.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I hate the sight of these strange creatures; +but since I am Mr. Fossiles wife, I shall endeavour to +conquer my aversion.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Thou may'st safely be here to day, my +dear; to-morrow thou shouldst no more enter this +room than a pest-house. 'Tis dangerous for women +that are impregnated. But poor lady Hippokekoana +suffers all this while.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Fossile with a key in his hand.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Since he has lock'd me in, to be even with +him, I'll bolt him out.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Plotwell dress'd like a Mummy, comes forward.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p> +<i>Plot.</i> Thus trav'ling far from his Egyptian tomb,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thy Anthony salutes his Cleopatra.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Thus Cleopatra, in desiring arms,<br /> + Receives her Anthony——But prithee dear pickled +Hieroglyphic, who so suddenly could assist thee with +this shape.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> The play-house can dress mummies, bears, +lions, crocodiles, and all the monsters of Lybia. +My arms madam are ready to break their past-board +prison to embrace you.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Not so hasty. Stay till the jealous fool is +out of sight.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Our ill stars, and the devil, have brought +him back so often</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> He can never parry this blow, nor grow +jealous of his mummy. A mummy is his intimate +friend.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> And a man cannot easily be cuckolded by +any body else.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Here may'st thou remain the ornament of +his study, and the support of his old age. Thou<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +shalt divert his company and be a father to his children. +I will bring thee legs of pullets, remnants of +tarts, and fragments of <a href="#k186_1">desarts</a>. Thou shalt be fed +like Bell and the Dragon.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> But madam; before you entertain me as +your mummy in ordinary, you ought to be acquainted +with my abilities to discharge that office. Let me +slip off this habit of death, you shall find I have some +symptoms of life.——Thus Jove within the milk-white +swan compress'd his Leda.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>Underplot in the Alligator crawls forward, then +rises up and embraces her.</i>]</p> + +<p> +<i>Underp.</i> Thus Jove within the serpents scaly folds,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Twin'd round the <a href="#k186_2">Macedonian queen</a>,</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Ah! +<span class="stgrt">[<i>shrieks.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Fear not, madam. This is my evil genius +Underplot that still haunts me. How the devil got +you here?</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Why should not the play-house lend me +a crocodile as well as you a mummy?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> How unlucky is this! [<i>Aside.</i>] Nay, I +don't know but I may have twenty lovers in this +collection. You snakes, sharks, monkeys, and +<a href="#k186_3">mantygers</a>, speak, and put in your claim before it is +too late.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Mr. Mummy, your humble servant; the +lady is pre-engag'd.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Pray, Mr. Crocodile, let the lady make +her own choice.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Crocodile as I am, I must be treated with +common humanity. You can't, madam, disown the +message you sent me.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Well! ye pair of Egyptian lovers, agree +this matter between you, and I will acquit myself +like a person of honour to you both.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Madam! If I don't love you above all +your sex, may I be banish'd the studies of virtuoso's; +and smoak'd like dutch beef in a chimney——</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> If I don't love you more than that stale +mummy, may I never more be proclaim'd at a show +of monsters, by the sound of a glass-trumpet.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> May I be sent to 'Pothecary's-hall, and +beat up into venice treacle for the fleet and the army, +if this heart——</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> May I be stuff'd with straw, and given to +a mountebank, if this soul——</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Madam I am a human creature. Taste my +balsamick kiss.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> A lover in swadling-clouts! What is his +kiss, to my embrace?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Look upon me, madam. See how I am +embroider'd with hieroglyphicks.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Consider my beautiful row of teeth.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> My balmy breath.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> The strong joints of my back.</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> My erect stature.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> My long tail.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Such a contest of beauty! How shall I +decide it?</p> + +<p><i>Plot.</i> Take me out of my shell, madam, and I'll +make you a present of the kernel.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Then I must be upon a level with him, +and be uncrocodil'd.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Keep both of you your shapes, and we are +in no fear of a surprize from the doctor: If you uncase, +his presence would undo us. Sure never was any +thing so unlucky—I hear his foot-steps; quick to +your posts.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Mummy and Crocodile run to their places.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Fossile</span>, Dr. <span class="smcap">Nautilus</span>, and Dr. +<span class="smcap">Possum</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> Much joy to the learned Dr. Fossile. To +have a mummy, an alligator, and a wife, all in one +day, is too great happiness for mortal man!</p> + +<p><i>Poss.</i> This an alligator! Alack a day, brother +Nautilus, this is a mere lizard, an eft, a shrimp to +mine.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> How improving would it be to the female +understanding, if the closets of the ladies were furnish'd, +or, as I may say, ornamented and embellish'd +with preserv'd butterflies, and beautiful shells, instead +of China jars, and absurd Indian pictures.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Now for a stratagem to bring off my unsuccessful +pair of gallants.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Townley.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Ah, Dr. Nautilus, how have I languish'd for +your feather of the bird Porphyrion!</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> But your dart of the Mantichora!</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Your haft of the antediluvian trowel, unquestionably +the tool of one of the Babel masons!</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> What's that to your fragment of Seth's +pillar?</p> + +<p><i>Poss.</i> Gentlemen, I affirm I have a greater curiosity +than all of them. I have an entire leaf of Noah's +journal aboard the ark, that was hewen out of a +porphyry pillar in Palmyra.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Fossile opens the case of the mummy.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> By the formation of the muscular parts of +the visage, I conjecture that this mummy is male.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Male, brother! I am sorry to observe your +ignorance of the symetry of a human body. Do but +observe the projection of the hip; besides, the bloom +upon the face; 'tis a female beyond all contradiction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Let us have no rash dispute, brothers; but +proceed methodically——Behold the vanity of mankind! +[<i>pointing to the mummy.</i>] Some Ptolemy perhaps!——</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> Who by his pyramid and pickle thought to +secure to himself death immortal.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> His pyramid, alas! is now but a wainscot +case.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> And his pickle can scarce raise him to the +dignity of a collar of brawn.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Pardon me, Dr. Possum: The musæum of +the curious is a lasting monument. And I think it +no degradation to a dead person of quality, to bear +the rank of an anatomy in the learned world.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> By your favour, Dr. Possum, a collar of +brawn! I affirm, he is better to be taken inwardly +than a collar of brawn.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> An excellent medicine! he is hot in the first-degree, +and exceeding powerful in some diseases of +women.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> Right, Dr. Fossile; for your Asphaltion.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Pice-Asphaltus, by your leave.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> By your leave, doctor Possum, I say, Asphaltion.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> And I positively say, Pice-Asphaltus.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> If you had read Dioscorides or Pliny—</p> + +<p><i>Poss.</i> I have read Dioscorides. And I do affirm +Pice-Asphaltus.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Be calm, Gentlemen. Both of you handle +this argument with great learning, judgment, and +perspicuity. For the present, I beseech you to concord, +and turn your speculations on my alligator.</p> + +<p><i>Poss.</i> The skin is impenetrable even to a sword.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> Dr. Possum I will show you the contrary.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Draws his sword.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Poss.</i> In the mean time I will try the mummy with +this knife, on the point of which you shall smell the +pitch, and be convinc'd that it is the Pice-Asphaltus.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Takes up a rusty knife.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Hold, Sir: You will not only deface my +mummy, but spoil my Roman sacrificing-knife.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Townley</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I must lure them from this experiment, or +we are discover'd.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>She looks through a telescope.</i></span><br /> + +What do I see! most prodigious! a star as broad as +the moon in the day-time!<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>The doctors go to her.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Poss.</i> Only a halo about the sun, I suppose.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> Your suppositions, doctor, seem to be +groundless. Let me make my observation.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Nautilus and Possum struggle to look first.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Now for your escape:<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>To Plotwell and Underplot.</i></span><br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>They run to the door, but find it lock'd.</i></span></p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> What an unlucky dog I am!</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Quick. Back to your posts. Don't move, +and rely upon me. I have still another artifice.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>They run back to their places.</i></span><br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Townley.</i></span></p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> I can espy no celestial body but the sun.</p> + +<p><i>Poss.</i> Brother Nautilus, your eyes are somewhat +dim; your sight is not fit for astronomical observations.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Is the focus of the glass right? hold gentlemen, +I see it; about the bigness of Jupiter.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> No phenomenon offers itself to my speculation.</p> + +<p><i>Poss.</i> Point over yonder chimney. Directly +south.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> Thitherward, begging your pardon, Dr. +Possum, I affirm to be the north.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> East.</p> + +<p><i>Poss.</i> South.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> North. Alas! what an ignorant thing +is vanity! I was just making a reflection on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +ignorance of my brother Possum, in the nature of +the crocodile.</p> + +<p><i>Poss.</i> First, brother Nautilus, convince yourself +of the composition of the mummy.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> I will insure your alligator from any damage. +His skin I affirm once more to be impenetrable.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>draws his sword.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<p><i>Poss.</i> I will not deface any hieroglyphick.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Goes to the mummy with the knife.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I never oppose a luciferous experiment. It +is the beaten highway to truth.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>Plotwell and Underplot <a href="#k191">leap from their places</a>; the +doctors are frighted.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Speak, I conjure thee. Art thou the ghost +of some murder'd Egyptian monarch?</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> A rational question to a mummy! But this +monster can be no less than the devil himself, for crocodiles +don't walk.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Townley</span> and <span class="smcap">Clinket</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="stgrt">[<i>Townley whispers Clinket.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Gentlemen, wonder at nothing within these +walls; for ever since I was married, nothing has +happen'd to me in the common course of human +life.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Madam, without a compliment, you have +a fine imagination. The masquerade of the mummy +and crocodile is extremely just; I would not rob you +of the merit of the invention, yet since you make me +the compliment, I shall be proud to take the whole +contrivance of this masquerade upon myself. [<i>To +Townley.</i>] Sir, be acquainted with my masqueraders.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>To Fossile.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Thou female imp of Appollo, more mischievous +than Circe, who fed gentlemen of the army in +a hog's-stye! What mean you by these gambols? this +mummy, this crocodile?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Only a little mummery, uncle?</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> What an outragious conceit is this! had you +contented yourself with the metamorphosis of Jupiter, +our skill in the classicks might have prevented our +terror.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> I glory in the fertility of my invention the +more, that it is beyond the imagination of a pagan +deity. Besides, it is form'd upon the vraysemblance; +for I know you had a mummy and a crocodile to be +brought home.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Dr. Nautilus is an infirm tender gentleman; +I wish the sudden concussion of his animal spirits may +not kindle him into a fever. I myself, I must confess, +have an extreme palpitation.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Dear uncle, be pacified. We are both of +us the votaries of our great master Appollo. To you +he has assign'd the art of healing: Me he has taught +to sing; why then should we jangle in our kindred +faculties?</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Appollo, for ought I know, may be a very +fine person; but this I am very sure of, that the skill +he has given all his physicians is not sufficient to cure +the madness of his poets.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Hark ye, brother Fossile? Your Crocodile +has proved a human creature, I wish your wife may +not prove a crocodile.</p> + +<p><i>Naut.</i> Hark ye, brother Fossile! Your mummy, +as you were saying, seemeth to be hot in the first +degree, and is powerful in some diseases of women.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Nautilus and Possum.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> You diabolical performers of my niece's masquerade, +will it please you to follow those gentlemen?</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Nay, Sir, you shall see them dance first.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Dance! the devil! bring me hither a spit, a +fire-fork, I'll try whether the monsters are impenetrable +or no.</p> + +<p><i>Plotw.</i> I hope, Sir, you will not expose us to the +fury of the mob, since we came here upon so courteous +a design.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Good courteous Mr. Mummy, without more +ceremony, will it please you to retire to your subterraneous +habitation. And you Mr. Crocodile, about +your business this moment, or you shall change your +Nile for the next horse-pond.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Spare my masqueraders.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> Let it never be said that the famous Dr. +Fossile, so renowned for his charity to monsters, +should violate the laws of hospitality, and turn a poor +alligator naked into the street.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Deposite your <i>exuviæ</i> then, and assume your +human shape.</p> + +<p><i>Underp.</i> For that I must beg your excuse. A gentleman +would not chuse to be known in these frolicks.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Then out of my doors, here footman, out +with him; out, thou hypocrite, of an alligator.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Underplot is turn'd out.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p>Sir, the respect I have for catacombs and pyramids, +will not protect you.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>A noise of mob within.</i></span><br /></p> + + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Prue</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Prue.</i> Sir, Sir, lock your doors, or else all your +monsters will run home again to the Indies. Your +crocodile yonder has made his escape; if he get but to +Somerset water-gate, he is gone for ever.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Prue.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter a Footman.</p> + +<p><i>Foot.</i> The herbwoman swore she knew him to be +the devil, for she had met him one dark night in St. +Pulchre's church-yard; then the monster call'd a +coach, methought with the voice of a christian; but +a sailor that came by said he might be a crocodile for +all that, for crocodiles could cry like children, and +was for killing him outright, for they were good to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +eat in Egypt, but the constable cry'd take him alive, +for what if he be an Egyptian, he is still the king's +subject.<br /> +<span class="stgrt"><i>Ex. footman.</i></span><br /> +<span class="stgrt">[<i>A noise of mob within.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Prue</span></p> + +<p><i>Prue.</i> Then he was hurry'd a way by the mob. A +bull-dog ran away with fix joints of his tail, and the +claw of his near foot before: At last by good fortune, +to save his life, he fell in with the Hockley in the +Hole bull and bear; the master claim'd him for his +monster, and so he is now attended by a vast mob, very +solemnly marching to Hockley in the Hole, with the +bear in his front, the bull in his rear, and a monkey +upon each shoulder.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Mr. Mummy, you had best draw the curtains +of your chair, or the mob's respect for the dead +will scarce protect you.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Plotwell in a chair.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> My concern for him obliges me to go see +that he gets off safe, lest any further mischief befalls +the persons of our masque.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Clinket.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Sweetly, Horace. <i>Nunquam satis</i>, and so +forth. A man can never be too cautious. Madam, +sit down by me. Pray how long is it since you and I +have been married?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Near three hours, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> And what anxieties has this time produc'd? +the dangers of divorce! calumniatory letters! lewd +fellows introduc'd by my niece! groundless jealousies +on both sides! even thy virginity put to the touch-stone! +but this last danger I plung'd thee in myself; +to leave thee in the room with two such robust young +fellows.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Ay, with two young fellows! but my +dear, I know you did it ignorantly.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> This is the first blest minute of repose that +I have enjoy'd in matrimony. Dost thou know the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +reason, my dear, why I have chosen thee of all womankind?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> My face, perhaps.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> No.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> My wit?</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> No.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> My virtue and good humour.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> No. But for the natural conformity of our +constitutions. Because thou art hot and moist in the +third degree, and I myself cold and dry in the first.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> And so nature has coupled us like the elements.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Thou hast nothing to do but to submit thy +constitution to my regimen.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> You shall find me obedient in all things.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> It is strange, yet certain, that the intellects +of the infant depend upon the suppers of the parents. +Diet must be prescrib'd.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> So the wit of one's posterity is determin'd +by the choice of one's cook.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Right. You may observe how French +cooks, with their high ragousts, have contaminated +our plain English understandings. Our supper to +night is extracted from the best authors. How delightful +is this minute of tranquility! my soul is at +ease. How happy shalt thou make me! thou shalt +bring me the finest boy!<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>A knocking at the door,</i></span><br /></p> + +<p>No mortal shall enter these doors this day. [<i>knocking again.</i>] +Oh, it must be the news of poor lady +Hippokekoana's death. Poor woman! such is the +condition of life, some die, and some are born, and +I shall now make some reparation for the mortality of +my patients by the fecundity of my wife. My dear +thou shalt bring me the finest boy!</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter footman.</p> + +<p><i>Foot.</i> Sir, here's a seaman from Deptford must +needs speak with you.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Let him come in. One of my retale Indian +merchants, I suppose, that always brings me some +odd thing.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter sailor with a child.</p> + +<p>What hast thou brought me, friend, a young +drill?</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> Look ye d'ye see, master, you know best +whether a monkey begot him.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> A meer human child.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Thy carelessness, Sarsnet, has exposed me, +I am lost and ruin'd. O heav'n! heav'n! No, impudence +assist me.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Aside.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Is the child monstrous? or dost thou bring +him here to take physick?</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> I care not what he takes so you take +him.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> What does the fellow mean?</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> Fellow me no fellows. My name is Jack +Capstone of Deptford, and are not you the man +that has the raree-show of oyster-shells and pebble-stones?</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> What if I am?</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> Why, then my invoice is right, I must leave +my cargo here.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Miserable woman that I am! how shall I +support this fight! thy bastard brought into thy family +as soon as thy bride!</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Patience, patience, I beseech you. Indeed I +have no posterity.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> You lascivious brute you.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Passion is but the tempestuous cloud that +obscures reason; be calm and I'll convince you. +Friend, how come you to bring the infant hither?</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> My wife, poor woman, could give him +suck no longer, for she died yesterday morning. +There's a long account, master. It was hard to trace +him to the fountain-head. I steer'd my course from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +lane to lane, I spoke to twenty old women, and at +last was directed to a ribbon-shop in Covent-Garden, +and they sent me hither, and so take the bantling and +pay me his clearings.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Offers him the child.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> I shall find law for you, sirrah. Call my +neighbour Possum, he is a justice of peace, as well as +a physician.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Call the man back. If you have committed +one folly, don't expose yourself by a second.</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> The gentlewoman says well. Come, master, +we all know that there is no boarding a pretty +wench, without charges one way or other; you are a +doctor, master, and have no surgeons bills to pay; +and so can the better afford it.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Rather than you should bring a scandal on +your character, I will submit to be a kind mother-in-law.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter Justice Possum, and Clerk.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Mr. justice Possum, for now I must so call +you, not brother Possum; here is a troublesome fellow +with a child, which he would leave in my +house.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Another man's child? he cannot in law.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> It seemeth to me to be a child unlawfully +begotten.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> A bastard! who does he lay it to?</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> To our family.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Your family, <i>quatenus</i> a family, being a body +collective, cannot get a bastard. Is this child a bastard, +honest friend?</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> I was neither by when his mother was +show'd, nor when she was unladen; whether he belong +to a fair trader, or be run goods, I cannot tell: +In short here I was sent, and here I will leave him.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Dost then know his mother, friend?</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> I am no midwife, master; I did not see him +born.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> You had best put up this matter, doctor. A +man of your years, when he has been wanton, cannot +be too cautious.</p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> This is all from the purpose. I was married +this morning at seven; let any man in the least acquainted +with the powers of nature, judge whether +that human creature could be conceiv'd and brought +to maturity in one forenoon.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> This is but talk, doctor Fossile. It is well +for you, though I say it, that you have fallen into the +hands of a person, who has study'd the civil and canon +law in the point of bastardy. The child is either +yours or not yours.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> My child, Mr. Justice!</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Look ye, doctor Fossile, you confound filiation +with legitimation. Lawyers are of opinion, +that filiation is necessary to legitimation, but not <i>è +contra</i>.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>The child cries</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I would not starve any of my own species, +get the infant some water-pap. But Mr. Justice——</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> The proofs, I say, doctor, of filiation are +five. Nomination enunciatively pronounc'd, strong +presumptions, and circumstantial proofs—</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> What is all this to me? I tell you I know +nothing of the child.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Signs of paternal piety, similitude of features, +and commerce with the mother. And first of +the first, nomination. Has the doctor ever been +heard to call the infant, son?</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> He has call'd him child, since he came into +this room. You have indeed, Mr. Fossile.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Bring hither the doctor's great bible.——Let +us examine in the blank leaf whether he be enroll'd +among the rest of his children.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I tell you, I never had any children. I shall +grow distracted, I shall——</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> But did you give any orders against registring +the child by the name of Fossile?</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> How was it possible?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Set down that, clerk. He did not prohibit +the registring the child in his own name. We our +selves have observed one sign of fatherly tenderness; +clerk, set down the water-pap he order'd just now. +<a href="#k199">Come we may</a>——</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> What a jargon is this!</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Come we now, I say, to that which the +lawyers call <i>magnum naturæ argumentum</i>, similitude +of features. Bring hither the child, friend; Dr. +Fossile, look upon me. The unequal circle of the +infant's face, somewhat resembles the inequality of +the circumference of your countenance; he has also +the vituline or calf-like concavity of the profile of +your visage.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Pish.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> And he is somewhat beetle-brow'd, and his +nose will rise with time to an equal prominence with +the doctor's.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Indeed he has somewhat of your nose Mr. +Fossile.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Ridiculous!</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> The child is comely.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Consider the large aperture of his mouth.</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> Nay, the tokens are plain enough. I have +the fellow of him at home; but my wife told me +two days ago, that this with the wall-eye and splay-foot +belong'd to you, Sir.</p> + +<p class="stglt">[<i>Prue runs a-cross the stage with a letter, which +Fossile snatches from her.</i></p> + +<p><i>Fos.</i> Whither are you going so fast, hussy? I will +examine every thing within these walls. [<i>Exit Prue.</i>]<br /> +[<i>reads.</i>] 'For Richard Plotwell, esq;' This letter +unravels the whole affair: As she is an unfortunate +relation of mine, I must beg you would act with +discretion.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Gives Possum the letter.</i></span><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> [<i>reads</i>] 'Sir, the child which you father'd +is return'd back upon my hands. Your Drury-lane +friends have treated me with such rudeness, that +they told me in plain terms I should be damn'd. +How unfortunate soever my offspring is, I hope +you at least will defend the reputation of the unhappy<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">'Phœbe Clinket.'</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>——As you say, doctor, the case is too plain; every +circumstance hits.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">Enter <span class="smcap">Clinket</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> 'Tis very uncivil, Sir, to break open one's +letters.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Would I had not; and that the contents of +it had been a secret to me and all mankind for ever. +Wretched creature, to what a miserable condition has +thy poetry reduc'd thee!</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> I am not in the least mortified with the accident. +I know it has happen'd to many of the most +famous daughters of Apollo; and to myself several +times.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> I am thunderstruck at her impudence! several +times!</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> I have had one returned upon my hands every +winter for these five years past. I may perhaps be +excell'd by others in judgment and correctness of manners, +but for fertility and readiness of conception, I +will yield to nobody.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Bless me, whence had she this luxuriant +constitution!</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Patience, Sir. Perhaps the lady may be +married.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> Tis infamous, Mr. Fossile, to keep her in +your house; yet though you turn her out of doors, +use her with some humanity; I will take care of the +child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> I can find no <i>Denoüement</i> of all this conversation. +Where is the crime, I pray, of writing a +tragedy? I sent it to Drury-Lane house to be acted; +and here it is return'd by the wrong goùt of the +actors.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> This incident has somewhat embarrassed us. +But what mean you here, madam, by this expression? +Your offspring.</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> My tragedy, the offspring of my brain. +One of his majesty's justices of the peace, and not +understand the use of the metaphor!</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Doctor, you have used much artifice, and +many demurrers; but the child must lie at your door +at last. Friend, speak plain what thou knowest of +this matter.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Let me relate my story. This morning, I +married this lady, and brought her from her lodgings, +at Mrs. Chambers's, in King-street, Covent-Garden.</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> Mrs. Chambers! To that place I was directed, +where liv'd the maid that put the bantling out +to be nurs'd by my wife for her lady; and who she +was, 'tis none of our business to enquire.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Dost thou know the name of this maid?</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> Let me consider——Lutestring.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Sarsnet, thou mean'st.</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> Sarsnet, that's right.</p> + +<p><i>Town.</i> I'll turn her out of my house this moment, +Filthy creature!</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> The evidence is plain. You have cohabitation +with the mother, doctor, <i>currat lex</i>. And you +must keep the child.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Your decree is unjust, Sir, and I'll seek my +remedy at law. As I never was espoused, I never had +carnal knowledge of any woman; and my wife, +Mrs. Susanna Townley, is a pure virgin at this hour +for me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> Susanna Townley! Susannah Townley! +Look how runs the warrant you drew up this morning.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Clerk gives him a paper.</i></span><br /> + +Madam, a word in private with you. [<i>whispers</i> her] +Doctor, my Lord Chief Justice has some business +with this lady.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> My Lord Chief Justice business with my +wife!</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> To be plain with you, doctor Fossile, you +have for these three hours entertain'd another man's +wife. Her husband, lieutenant Bengal, is just returned +from the Indies, and this morning took out a +warrant from me for an elopement; it will be more +for your credit to part with her privately, than to +suffer her publickly to be carried off by a tipstaff.</p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> Surprizing have been the events of this day; +but this, the strangest of all, settles my future repose. +Let her go—I have not dishonoured the bed of lieutenant +Bengal—Hark ye friend! Do you follow her +with that badge of her infamy.</p> + +<p><i>Pos.</i> By your favour, doctor, I never reverse my +judgment. The child is yours: for it cannot belong +to a man who has been three years absent in the East-Indies. +Leave the child.</p> + +<p><i>Sail.</i> I find you are out of humour, master. So +I'll call to-morrow for his clearings.</p> + +<p class="stgdir">[<i>Sailor lays down the child, and exit with Possum, +Clerk, and Townley.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Clink.</i> Uncle, by this day's adventure, every one +has got something. Lieutenant Bengal has got his +wife again; you a fine child; and I a plot for a comedy; +and I'll this moment set about it.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Clinket.</i></span><br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Foss.</i> What must be, must be. [<i>takes up the +child.</i>] Fossile, thou didst want posterity: Here behold +thou hast it. A wife thou didst not want; thou +hast none. But thou art caressing a child that is not +thy own. What then? a thousand, and a thousand +husbands are doing the same thing this very +instant; and the knowledge of truth is desirable, and +makes thy case the better, What signifies whether +a man beget his child or not? How rediculous is the +act itself, said the great emperor Antoninus! I now +look upon myself as a Roman citizen; it is better +that the father should adopt the child, than that the +wife should adopt the father.<br /> + +<span class="stgrt">[<i>Exit Fossile.</i></span><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 314px;"> +<img src="images/i_078.png" width="314" height="235" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;"> +<img src="images/i_088.png" width="640" height="113" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE.<br /> +<br /> +<small>Spoke by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Oldfield</span>.</small></h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<p> +<i>The ancient Epilogue, as criticks write,<br /> +Was, Clap your hands, excuse us, and good-night.<br /> +The modern always was a kind essay<br /> +To reconcile the audience to the play:<br /> +More polish'd, we of late have learn'd to fly<br /> +At parties, treaties, nations, ministry.<br /> +Our author more genteelly leaves these brawls<br /> +To coffee-houses, and to coblers stalls.<br /> +His very monsters are of sweet condition,<br /> +None but the Crocodile's a politician;<br /> +He reaps the blessings of his double nature,<br /> +And, Trimmer like, can live on land or water:<br /> +Yet this same monster should be kindly treated,<br /> +He lik'd a lady's flesh——but not to eat it.</i></p> + +<p> +<i>As for my other spark, my favourite Mummy,<br /> +His feats were such, smart youths! as might become ye;<br /> +Dead as he seem'd, he had sure signs of life;<br /> +His hieroglyphicks pleas'd the doctor's wife.</i></p> + +<p> +<i>Whom can our well-bred poetess displease?<br /> +She writ like quality——with wond'rous ease:<br /> +All her offence was harmless want of wit;<br /> +Is that a crime?——ye powers, preserve the pit.</i></p> + +<p> +<i>My doctor too, to give the devil his due,<br /> +When every creature did his spouse pursue,</i><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span><i>(Men <a href="#k205_1">sound in living</a>, bury'd flesh, dry'd fish,)<br /> +Was e'en as civil as a wife could wish.<br /> +Yet he was somewhat saucy with his <a href="#k205_2">viol</a>;<br /> +What! put young maids to that unnat'ral trial!<br /> +So hard a test! why, if you needs will make it,<br /> +Faith, let us marry first,——and then we'll take it.</i></p> + +<p> +<i>Who could be angry, though like Fossile teaz'd?<br /> +Consider, in three hours, the man was eas'd.<br /> +How many of you are for life beguil'd,<br /> +And keep as well the mother, as the child!<br /> +None but a Tar could be so tender-hearted,<br /> +To claim a wife that had been three years parted;<br /> +Would you do this, my friends?—believe me, never!<br /> +When modishly you part——you part for ever.</i></p> + +<p> +<i>Join then your voices, be the play excus'd<br /> +For once, though no one living is abus'd;<br /> +To that bright circle that commands our duties,<br /> +To you superior eighteen-penny beauties,<br /> +To the lac'd hat and cockard of the pit,</i> <span class="linert">}</span><br /> +<i>To all, in one word, we our cause submit,<br /> +Who think good breeding is a-kin to wit.</i> +</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 235px;"> +<img src="images/i_089.png" width="235" height="257" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + +<h3>The <i>Publisher</i>'s</h3> + +<h2><i>Advertisement</i> to this<br /> +<i>Edition</i>.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><big>The following Key with the Letter +annexed, was sent me from my +Correspondent in <i>London</i>; which came too +late to the English Editor, to be printed +with that Edition. As the Squabble between +<i>Cibber</i> and <i>Gay</i> behind the Scenes of +the Theatre-Royal in <i>Drury-Lane</i>, at that +Time, was very well known; we imagine +the reader will not be displeased to have +a particular Account of it, now, first added +to this <i>Dublin</i> Edition.</big></div> + +<p> </p> + +<hr class="half" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h3><a name="KEY" id="KEY"></a><small>A</small><br /> + +<big><span class="ft20">K E Y</span></big><br /> + +<small>TO THE</small><br /> + +<big><span class="smcap">New</span> COMEDY;</big><br /> + +<small>CALL'D,</small><br /> + +<span class="smcap ft20">Three Hours after<br /> +MARRIAGE.</span></h3> + +<p class="center">Written by a Person of Distinction in<br /> +L O N D O N,<br /> +<br /> +To his Friend in the County of <i>Cornwal</i>.</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>With a Letter, giving an Account of the<br /> + Origin of the Quarrel between <span class="smcap">Cibber</span>,<br /> + <span class="smcap">Pope</span>, and <span class="smcap">Gay</span>.</td></tr> +</table></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;"> +<img src="images/i_093.png" width="640" height="125" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + + + +<h3><small>A</small><br /> + +<span class="ft20">K E Y</span><br /> + +<small>TO THE</small><br /> + +<big><span class="smcap">New</span> COMEDY,</big> <i>&c.</i></h3> + +<hr class="half" /> + +<p class="center ft20">To Sir H. M.</p> + +<p> +My Friend,<br /> + +<br /> +You have sent me a long letter to persuade me +to an undertaking I cannot think myself capable +of executing; therefore, I must call it worse to +me than an Egyptian bondage! My frequenting the +Theatre (you say) I make my favourite amusement—I +confess it—I think it a rational, instructive, and +most pleasurable one, of all those this great city affords: +Where can a man pass three hours of his idle +time better? however, I never enter the house as a +critick, and therefore find myself unequal to the task +you have imposed upon me; yet notwithstanding, I +will venture. But as you make use of this old sentence +in your letter,</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Ut clavis partam, sic pandit Epistolæ pectum.</i></p> + +<p class="noidt">I shall divide (as parsons do their pulpit orations) my +matter into three parts. First then I shall give you +my own thoughts, which I believe concur with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +at least three parts of the audience. So I shall unlock +(according to your motto) my breast, and tell +you all I know or think concerning this affair.</p> + +<p class="tb">2dly. I intend to let you know as much as I do; +at least, all the persons that are satiriz'd in this merry +drama.</p> + +<p class="tb">3dly, And lastly, without the least favour, I +shall discover according to my judgment, from +whence they have borrowed, or bordered upon any +likeness from any other dramatick piece within my +knowledge.</p> + +<p class="tb">Now as to the <span class="smcap">First</span> article. The expectation of +all lovers of the drama, were rais'd to the highest +pitch, from the great reputation of the authors, (the +Triumvir, as they were call'd) Pope, Gay, and +Arbuthnot. I went to the Theatre the first night, +but could not find the least room; every door that +was opened to me, diffus'd more heat than a baker's +oven, or the mouth of a glass-house. The next +morning, I stroll'd to several coffee-houses, where I +knew the wits and criticks met like surgeons, to dissect +the body of any new piece; but I found more opinions +among them, than there are sectaries in the +world: So I resolv'd to venture a sweating the next +evening, and be my own judge. When I came to +the Theatre, I found it crowded as the night before, +but fortunately got a seat in the boxes among some of +my acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Wilk's spoke the prologue with his usual vivacity and +applause! but he had no sooner ended, and thrown the +fool's cap on the stage,<a name="FNanchor_A_15" id="FNanchor_A_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_15" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> but the storm began, and +the criticks musick of cat-calls join'd in the chorus.—The +play was acted like a ship tost in a tempest; yet +notwithstanding, through those clouds of confusion +and uproar, I, as one of the neutral powers, could +discover a great many passages that gave me much sa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>tisfaction; +and while the inimitable Oldfield was +speaking the epilogue, (who performed the character +of Mrs. Townley, the doctor's wife) the storm subsided—And +to speak poetically, my friend—</p> + +<p>The billows seem'd to slumber on the shore.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_15" id="Footnote_A_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_15"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> See the two last lines of the prologue.</p></div> + +<p>But when the play was given out for the third night, +(tho' the benefit of the author was not mention'd) +the roar burst out again, like sudden thunder from +two meeting clouds; but I with pleasure observ'd, the +roar of applause overcame and triumph'd.</p> + +<p>I went the third night to the pit, where I saw the +comedy perform'd to a numerous and polite audience +with general applause! as for my own particular +part, I was extremely delighted. Thus have I unlock'd +my own sentiments concerning this three hours +after marriage, and expos'd them naked before you. +And so ends the first promised article of my Key—Now +I shall proceed to the</p> + + +<p class="tb"><span class="smcap">Second</span>, <i>viz.</i> The persons that are struck at in +this drama (which has opened so many mouths against +it) and the cause which drew the satirical lash +upon them.</p> + +<p>Poets, that are inspir'd by Apollo are so quickly +fir'd, that the least touch sets them in a blaze. The +Triumvir had been inform'd, that Dr. Fossile, or Dr. +Woodward, which you please; (for Dr. Woodward +they mean by Dr. Fossile) had very concisely affronted +them all three in one speech, <i>viz.</i> Pope's essay on +critiscism, was plundered from Vida—Gays pastoral +lucubrations, were built upon Spencer, and Brown's +Britania's-pastorals, published in the year 1613—and +Arbuthnot could never be eminent in surgery, since +he never study'd at Paris or Leyden; for in Scotland, +he could learn nothing, but to cure the itch. +So Fossile appears as the principal character in this ludicrous +drama: He gain'd that title tis said, by +asking a man digging in a gravel-pit—if he ever met +with any Fossils? the man mistaking the Word, reply'd—no, +nor Spiggot's master; for I believe this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +gravel-pit was never an ale-cellar yet. Thus have I +given you all the intelligence I can, why Dr Woodward +is Dr. Fossile in this comedy.</p> + +<p>The other two physicians next in the dramatis personæ, +do not, I believe, mean any particular persons, +only to satirize pretenders, and you know we have too +many that kill without license.</p> + +<p>Sir Tremendous is meant for that snarling, ill-natur'd +critick, Dennis, who fell so critically upon Addison, +with his billingsgate remarks on Cato! a growler, +who never yet lik'd any child of fancy but his +own! and I must declare, all of his offspring that I +have seen, are as ill-shap'd, and as hard-favour'd as +the parent that begot 'em: He swells like an invenom'd +reptile, at any thing that gives pleasure to the +rest of the world, while he only torments himself; +therefore he has truly gain'd the true name of <a href="#k212_2">Heautontimerumenos</a>.</p> + +<p>The two extraordinary lovers, Plotwell, and Underplot; +there are so many of their resemblance in +this great town, that we may call them <a href="#k212_1">knights of +the shires, who represent them all</a>.</p> + +<p>The two players by their different manner of +speaking, by those whoever convers'd with them, +might be easily found to mean Wilk's and Booth.</p> + +<p>Now we have open'd our lock, and set to view all +our men display'd in our three hours after marriage, I +shall proceed to the women, which are but two pointed +at in the drama, whatever may occur in the body +of the play, which I shall refer to the last article of +my discourse. (<i>do not I my friend talk like your chaplain +in the country! on the day between saturday and +monday</i>)?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Townley, the heroine of our play, I am +inform'd, does not suit the character of Fossile's real +wife in the least; for tis said they cannot slander that +poor woman with any other failing, than that thing so +much out of fashion call'd virtue; which seems as ridiculous +as if a woman of quality should come to court to +a ball on a birth day, with a black-bever high-crown-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>hat +on: But they say <a href="#k213">another eminent physician's +wife sat for that picture; and the painters have done +her justice in all but the catastrophe; for the poor +man has her still, nor feels he yet any pain in the forehead; +therefore shall be nameless</a>, for I think it hard, +a man's head should be laden, for the lightness of his +wife's heels.</p> + +<p>Phœbe Clinket; I am a little griev'd to say, reflects +a little on a lady of your acquaintance, the +Countess of W——sea, who is so much affected with +that itch of versifying, that she has implements for +writing, in every room in her house that she frequents. +You and I know, Gay has many obligations +to that lady, therefore, out of justice and good manners +ought to have spar'd her. But poets provok'd, +are as bad as hornets; they care not who they sting! +and I think the motto to the thistle, (the arms of +North-Britain) <i>Nemo me impune lacessit</i>, given by +James V. of Scotland, is not an improper one for a +poet—That unlucky lady was heard to say,—<i>Gays +trivia show'd he was more proper to walk before a +chair, than to ride in one</i>. This sarcasm was the +cause, why the poor Countess is thrust among such a +pack of motley figures on the stage. As Hamlet says +by the players; "You had better have a poets good +word, than a bad epitaph after your death." I +must confess a poor revenge upon a woman; and a +revenge of this kind on any of the soft sex, is below +the dignity of man. I am of the poets opinion, +who says—</p> + +<p class="poem"> +"Too noble for revenge! which still we find<br /> +"The weakest frailty of a feeble mind;<br /> +"Ungenerous passion! and for man too base—<br /> +</p> + +<p>Thus my friend have I finish'd my 2d article, and +proceed to the <span class="smcap">Third</span> and last, which shall be to +consider the play, and remark every passage that +borders on any other in the dramatic way, but not +with the ill-natur'd design of a critick.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<p>The very first scene of the play, puts me in mind +of the first entrance of Morose, with his epicæne in +Ben Johnson's silent woman; and several other scenes +in this <i>Three Hours after Marriage</i>, convinces me the +authors had that celebrated comedy often in view. +But Fossile in his first speech where he says—</p> + +<p>"<i>I now proclaim a solemn suspension of arms between +medicine and diseases; Be this day sacred to +my love.</i>" Puts me strongly in mind of Jupiter's +ending the first act of Dryden's amphytrion: and I +doubt not, but the author had the same thought +with me.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Let human kind their sovereign's leisure wait,</span><br /> +"Love is this night my great affair of state:<br /> +"Let this one night on providence be void:<br /> +"All Jove for once, is on himself employ'd.<br /> +</p> + +<p>In the next page Mrs. Townley says—</p> + +<p><i><a href="#k214">Marriage, is not to be undertaken wantonly</a> like brute +beasts.</i> Do you not think this following speech of +Truwits to Morose upon his sudden marriage, was not +the father of Mrs. Townley's speech.</p> + +<p>"Wou'd you go to bed so soon? a man of your +head and hair should owe more to the reverend ceremony, +and not mount the marriage-bed like a +town-bull, <i>&c.</i></p> + +<p>The messages from his patients, I like the least of +any thing in the whole play, tho' it is a just satire on +those people of rank, that dare not be well without +the advice of their physician: Yet I am angry at the +countess of Hippokekoana, who is no other than the +good dutchess of M—n—th, who generally took an +emetick once a week. This lady had the misfortune +to break her thigh-bone by a fall, but her modesty +was so great, she would not allow the surgeons to apply +any remedy; but by their advice, women took +their office upon them, but performed it so ill, that +the poor lady must go lame to her tomb. The annual +day, on which her illustrious husband lost his head, +she fasts the four and twenty hours: a rare example<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +of conjugal-love! But indeed something of this +whole scene may be picked out of <i>Moliere</i>.</p> + +<p>In the scene between Tremendous, Clinket and +the Players; that critick talks in the usual stile of +<i>Dennis</i>—But in this speech of—</p> + +<p><i>There is not in all this sodom of ignorance, ten righteous +criticks</i>—The triumvir makes a little too free with +the old testament.</p> + +<p>Those <a href="#k215_1">letters that are given to the doctor in disguise +of his footman, are something like several passages in +Molier's <i>Cecu imaginaire</i></a>. That sign'd <i>Wyburn</i>, I +believe I need not inform you, is the most noted bawd +in London. The character of <a href="#k215_2">Lubomirski, may be +found (at least something like it) in <i>Lopez de Vega</i></a>; but +his water of virginity, you may find something very +like that in a play call'd the <i>Changeling</i>, written by +Middleton and Rowley in conjunction, printed 1653.</p> + +<p>Their Mummy may be found in a little piece in +the <i><a href="#k215_3">Theatre Italien</a></i>, call'd the mummies of Egypt; +and I believe the Nile furnish'd the Crocodile.</p> + +<p>I begin to be tir'd my friend, and, therefore let me +tell you, Mrs. Townley proving no wife to Fossile, +may put you in mind of <i>Ben Johnson's</i> silent woman, +and <i>Congreve's</i> old batchelor.</p> + +<p>But what of all this! who would search for what I +have done, but such a compliant puppy as myself, to +please one who does not care what trouble I take; +but for taking hints from the French, Spanish, or any +of our own celebrated authors, especially if they are +improved upon, as in justice these are. I will not esteem +a crime—How many whole plays have we translated +from the celebrated Moliere, that every winter +gives pleasure to a British audience? I shall never ask +my cook of what ingredients my dishes are compos'd, +so my viands are wholsome and well relish'd: And +this Three Hours after Marriage, in my opinion, had +not the satire been pointed at particular people, +might have furnis'd out a repast for many winters +Theatric nights.</p> + + + +<hr class="half" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> +<h3>A LETTER, <i>&c.</i></h3> +<p class="center">To the Publisher.</p> + + +<p> +<i>SIR</i>,<br /> +<br /> +<i>I Desire you will publish this short account I send you, +if you think fit, since it cannot more properly be +tacked to any other work—It is wrote by a person who +is still alive, and tho' a woman, intimate with the poets +of this century, and consequently with most of the +theatrical persons worthy notice; therefore I have +sent you a careful copy from the original, by the +gentleman's consent it was wrote to.</i><br /> + +<br /> + +A LETTER, giving an Account of the Origin of +the Quarrel between <i>Cibber</i>, <i>Pope</i>, and <i>Gay</i>.</p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">SIR</span>,<br /> +<br /> + +You tell me, it is matter of great surprize to +you, that Pope like a vicious horse, has so often +flung out at the Laureat, whose apology for his +life and comedies you so much admire. Women, depend +on it, Sir Thomas, keep up a little vanity, even +in the decline of life, as well as you men; and +you will certainly think so, when I tell you I can unravel +all the true reasons, and sources of that affair.—I +have often informed you, my intimacy with Mrs. +Oldfield brought me the freedom of the theatre, as +well at rehearsals in the morning, as the use of her box +at night. I accompany'd her almost every morning to the +<i>Three Hours after Marriage</i>. This comedy was the +source of that bitterness, and keen-cutting satire that +Pope expresses against Cibber in all his writings. At +the rehearsal of this piece, no two could express +more amity; and the former was often heard to say, +with his other two associates, Arbuthnot and Gay: +"Cibber, in teaching the comedians their parts, +had struck out infinitely more humour than they +themselves conceiv'd, or even meant; and I +heard Gay say"—</p> + +<p class="center">"We dug the oar, but he refin'd the gold."</p> + +<p class="noidt">Which was plainly owning, they all three had a hand +in mixing the ingredients for this theatric pudding.</p> + +<p>We shall give the first appearance of Pope's resentment, +in Mr. Cibber's own words, in his letter to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +Pope; and then relate another passage the laureat has +omitted.</p> + +<p>"The play of the Rehearsal, which had lain some +few years dormant, being by his present majesty +(then Prince of Wales) commanded to be reviv'd, +the part of Bayes fell to my share. To this character, +there always had been allow'd such ludicrous liberties +of observation, upon any thing new or remarkable +in the state of the stage, as Mr. Bayes should +think proper to take. Much about this time the +Three Hours after Marriage had been acted, which +Mr. Baye's as usual had a fling at, which in itself +as no jest, unless the audience would please to +make it one. In this play, two coxcombs being +in love with a virtuoso's wife; to get unsuspected +access to her, ingenuously sent themselves as two +presented rarities to the husband, the one swath'd +up like an Egyptian Mummy, and the other sllyly +cover'd in the paste board skin of a Crocodile: Upon +which poetical expedient, Mr. Bayes, when the +two kings of Brentford came down from the clouds +into the throne again; instead of what my part directed +me to say, I made use of these words, <i>viz.</i> +Now Sir, this revolution, I had some thoughts of +introducing by a quite different contrivance; but +my design taking air, some of your sharp wits I +found, had made use of it before me; otherwise, I +intended to have stolen one of them in, in the +shape of a mummy, and the other, in that of a +crocodile. The audience by their roar of applause, +show'd their approbation: But why am I answerable +for that? I did not lead them by any reflection +of my own. But this it seems was so heinously taken +by Mr. Pope, that in the swellings of his +heart after the play was over, he came behind the +scenes with his lips pale, and voice trembling, to +call me to account for the insult, and, accordingly +fell upon me with all the foul language, that a wit +out of his senses, could be capable of—<i>How durst +I have the impudence to treat any gentlemen in that</i> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span><i>manner</i>? &c., &c., &c. Now let the reader judge by +this concern, who was the true mother of the child—When +he was almost choak'd with the foam of +his passion, I was enough recovered to make him +(as near as I can remember) this reply—<i>viz.</i> Mr. +Pope, you <i>are so particular a man, that I must be +asham'd to return your language as I ought to do; +but since you have attacked me in so monstrous a manner, +this you may depend upon, that as long as the +play continues to be acted, I will never fail to repeat +the same words over and over again</i>. Now, as +he accordingly found I kept my word for several +nights following, I am afraid he has since thought, +that his pen was a sharper weapon than his tongue, +to trust his revenge with; and, however just cause +this may be for his doing so; it is, at least, the only +cause my conscience can charge me with.</p> + +<p>So far has Mr. Cibber thought fit to relate of this +affair, and no farther, which is strictly true: But the +laureat in this account of the first failing of Mr. Popes +friendship, makes no mention of what pass'd between +him and Mr. Gay, the fourth evening, after his +sparring with Mr. Pope: Perhaps, the death of Gay +prevail'd on him to be silent, or perhaps, that author, +never having publickly attack'd him, might be his +motive for not mentioning the affair.</p> + +<p>Thus it was, Mr Pope's frail form not being cut +out for a hero, spirited up Mr. Gay, as a party concerned +in the suppos'd affront; and accordingly, the +fourth night, after Pope's ill success, Gay, like a valiant +champion, came behind the scenes to attack +Bayes at the head of his new rais'd forces: A dangerous +undertaking, since, he might have seen, if rage +had not blinded him, several horse, rang'd on each +side the field of battle, ready for the riders to mount, +at the first call of the trumpet—most of the forces +were in their tents, waiting the word of command. +But <i>Bayes</i>, the general, already prepar'd, was gone +from his pavilion, and reconnoitring the numerous +spectators—that is without a metaphor: Cibber with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +his glove rais'd up to his eyes, (his usual custom) +was observing the audience about half an hour after +five o'clock (the play beginning in drury-lane axactly +at six) when Gay accosted him. We shall wave the +short dialogue; but only observe that great poets are +as well vers'd in the vulgar language, as well as the +sublime, and perhaps, in their anger show as little +politeness, as those educated in the boarding school +of billing's-gate. But at last Gays passion grew +ungovernable; he with his arm rais'd high, was going +to discharge a ponderous blow upon Baye's, but +a stander by disarmed him, and prevented the ignominious +blow. They then seiz'd each other, grappled +hard, and a cuff or two were exchang'd on both +sides—Gay having the advantage of youth, and +strength, threw Bayes down, yet he bravely drag'd +his foe down with him in his fall: But the affair growing +a little too serious, the combatants were parted, +without bloodshed, save that Bayes got a small scratch +upon the nose, which the piece of wet brown paper, +(a property of his part) decently conceal'd from the +spectators. It is certain, one of those that endeavoured +to part them, got a most severe broken shin +from one of them; so that we may be assur'd they +<i>kick'd</i> as well as <i>cuff'd</i>. However this combat did +not last so long as it takes up in the relation. Bayes's +wig went once more under the correction of the barber, +and the play began at the stated time. We cannot +call this by the pompous name of Battle, but +simply skirmishing; but as Gay was obliged to quit +the field, <i>Bayes</i> may in some sort be termed victor; +however, he triumph'd with his mummy and crocodile +that night, but dropt it afterwards, the jest growing +stale. Mr. Pope's apparition to Mr. Cibber on this occasion +was known to very few, but this of Mr. Gay was the +common town and table-talk for some time, kept +up by the grub-street wits that made many a hearty +meal upon it, ('till something more in season threw +it out of the bill of fare.) It is manifest, this truffing +beginning put an end to Pope's friendship for Cibber<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +if he realy had any; and the continuance of his enmity, +for near thirty years, is no mark of humanity. +It is accounted unmanly and mean, to give a person +repeated strokes, when he has not spirit enough to resent +the first; and yet that excellent poet, had so much +bitterness in his sweet wit, (if we may be allowed to +say so,) that to many it palls the taste. The reader +in this supplement, will not find Cibber's name once +mentioned: The reason is apparent; he had not done +any thing to provoke; but since the year of the three +Hours after Marriage, (1717) he has a dart at him in +almost every thing he publishes—In his epistle to doctor +Arbuthnot he plainly says—(mentioning a play +he was desired to recommend to the stage)</p> + +<p class="poem">There (thank my stars) my whole commission ends,<br /> +Cibber and I, are luckily no friends.</p> + +<p class="noidt">And yet it is well known, Mr. Cibber never made the +least return, till his letter to Pope 1742, and then, he +declar'd to many of his friends, he did it, because he +had no other business on his hands, and that he might +not be forgot before he was dead. Of all the foibles +Mr. Cibber might be guilty of, those that are conversant +with him, know malice, envy or slander, are +not in the composition.</p> + +<p>When a person informed him, Pope was no more; +he seem'd much concern'd, and reply'd, I am griev'd +for the loss of so great a man; I was never his enemy, +and for those spots he seem'd to dash on me, his admirable +wit made me overlook them all—and I am +convinced, he sometimes wrote against the sentiments +of his heart. Nay we are informed, Pope was heard +to say in his last sickness—</p> + +<p>"My satires against Cibber, are not my last repented +faults."</p> + +<p>But we are not willing to part with this Three +Hours after Marriage, without relating an odd accident, +that happened the 4th night of that play; it +may be called a scene of distress, in a pantomime that +befell an unlucky lover; for it was all in dumb show: +We are sure, it created more vociferous mirth in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +spectators, than any other passage of wit or satire; and +the enemies to the Triumvir, declared it was the best +thing in the whole piece. Had Hogarth been present +(as he might have been) his inimitable pencil would, +have stronger ideas, of the comic distress, than any +description can do: But, perhaps, contemplating the +scene may strengthen the readers imagination.</p> + +<p>Cibber, was the mummy, curiously wrapt and +folded with proper bandages, painted with false Egyptian +Hieroglyphics, but however false the heraldry, +his arms were at liberty. The droll facetious Penkethman, +was that amphibious devourer, the crocodile, +where the painter, the tailor, with other artificers had +us'd their utmost skill: The monster's two foremost +legs, were fitted to his arms, and Penky's legs, serv'd +for those of the monster. He made a formidable figure +as he crawl'd in, with his great head, and long +tail; for, tho' he was ordered to be carry'd as a +stuff'd monster, he would creep, as crocodiles should +do on dry land: When he stood upright, his face +peep'd from the belly of the monster; form'd monstrously +to charm indeed! The case that brought in +the mummy-lover, was plac'd in the center of the +stage behind, and the door, or, open part, stood facing +the audience upright—While they were employ'd +in their courtship, displaying their charms as lovers; +Penkethman, the crocodile, boasting much in the +beauty of his long tail, and, traversing the stage, unfortunately +made such a parade with it, that he +threw down Sarsnet (the attendant and confidant of +Mrs. Townley) flat upon her back, where she discovered +more linnen than other habitiments, and, more +skin and flesh than linnen, this began the first uproar +in the audience. The persons of the drama upon the +stage, strove to screen the accident as much as they +could, and the crocodile, Penkethman, (whose face +was a farce) rising from giving his assistance <i>to the fallen +maid</i>; unluckilly, his back encountered the case +for the mummy, which stood upright, openmouth'd, +to receive him, that case and crocodile fell backward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +with such violent noise, that the body of the crocodile +lay intirely inhum'd in the case of the mummy, +all absorb'd but the head and tail of the monster; and +the rapidity of the fall, had so forcibly jamm'd all +that appertain'd to Pinky's fair form, that all the +strength and skill of twenty people running to the +assistance of the monster, could not disengage him, +till Pallas in the likeness of hammers, saws, chissels, +and other implements in the hands of those that knew +their use, releas'd him. This scene took more than +half an hour in the action; with what roar of applause +the reader must form in his own Imagination. +Many of the audience the next night, made an interruption +of some minutes, to have the scene repeated, +which so much allarmed poor Sarsnet, that she run off +the stage extremely frighted, which provok'd a peal +of laughter from the spectators.</p> + +<p>You see sir, it is some danger, to give a woman +room to talk; but I'll make an end with Bromias's +last speech in the second act of Amphytrion, <i>viz.</i></p> + +<p class="center">"The tongue is the last moving thing about a +woman.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 235px;"> +<img src="images/i_103.png" width="235" height="273" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> +<h3>PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY</h3> + +<p class="ridt"><b>First Year (1946-47)</b></p> + +<p>Numbers 1-6 out of print.</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Second Year (1947-1948)</b></p> + +<p>7. John Gay's <i>The Present State of Wit</i> (1711); and a section on Wit from +<i>The English Theophrastus</i> (1702).</p> + +<p>8. Rapin's <i>De Carmine Pastorali</i>, translated by Creech (1684).</p> + +<p>9. T. Hanmer's (?) <i>Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet</i> (1736).</p> + +<p>10. Corbyn Morris' <i>Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit, etc</i>. +(1744).</p> + +<p>11. Thomas Purney's <i>Discourse on the Pastoral</i> (1717).</p> + +<p>12. Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood Krutch.</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Third Year (1948-1949)</b></p> + +<p>13. Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), <i>The Theatre</i> (1720).</p> + +<p>14. Edward Moore's <i>The Gamester</i> (1753).</p> + +<p>15. John Oldmixon's <i>Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley</i> (1712); and +Arthur Mainwaring's <i>The British Academy</i> (1712).</p> + +<p>16. Nevil Payne's <i>Fatal Jealousy</i> (1673).</p> + +<p>17. Nicholas Rowe's <i>Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespeare</i> +(1709).</p> + +<p>18. "Of Genius," in <i>The Occasional Paper</i>, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719); and Aaron +Hill's Preface to <i>The Creation</i> (1720).</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Fourth Year (1949-1950)</b></p> + +<p>19. Susanna Centlivre's <i>The Busie Body</i> (1709).</p> + +<p>20. Lewis Theobold's <i>Preface to The Works of Shakespeare</i> (1734).</p> + +<p>21. Out of print.</p> + +<p>22. Samuel Johnson's <i>The Vanity of Human Wishes</i> (1749) and Two <i>Rambler</i> +papers (1750).</p> + +<p>23. John Dryden's <i>His Majesties Declaration Defended</i> (1681).</p> + +<p>24. Out of print.</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Fifth Year (1950-1951)</b></p> + +<p>25. Thomas Baker's <i>The Fine Lady's Airs</i> (1709).</p> + +<p>26. Charles Macklin's <i>The Man of the World</i> (1792).</p> + +<p>27. Out of print.</p> + +<p>28. John Evelyn's <i>An Apologie for the Royal Party</i> (1659); and <i>A Panegyric +to Charles the Second</i> (1661).</p> + +<p>29. Daniel Defoe's <i>A Vindication of the Press</i> (1718).</p> + +<p>30. Essays on Taste from John Gilbert Cooper's <i>Letters Concerning Taste</i>, +3rd edition (1757), & John Armstrong's <i>Miscellanies</i> (1770).</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Sixth Year (1951-1952)</b></p> + +<p>31. Thomas Gray's <i>An Elegy Wrote in a Country Church Yard</i> (1751); and +<i>The Eton College Manuscript</i>.</p> + +<p>32. Prefaces to Fiction; Georges de Scudéry's Preface to <i>Ibrahim</i> (1674), etc.</p> + +<p>33. Henry Gally's <i>A Critical Essay</i> on Characteristic-Writings (1725).</p> + +<p>34. Thomas Tyers' A Biographical Sketch of Dr. Samuel Johnson (1785).</p> + +<p>35. James Boswell, Andrew Erskine, and George Dempster. <i>Critical Strictures +on the New Tragedy of Elvira, Written by Mr. David Mallock</i> (1763).</p> + +<p>36. Joseph Harris's <i>The City Bride</i> (1696).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Seventh Year (1952-1953)</b></p> + +<p>37. Thomas Morrison's <i>A Pindarick Ode on Painting</i> (1767).</p> + +<p>38. John Phillips' <i>A Satyr Against Hypocrites</i> (1655).</p> + +<p>39. Thomas Warton's <i>A History of English Poetry</i>.</p> + +<p>40. Edward Bysshe's <i>The Art of English Poetry</i> (1708).</p> + +<p>41. Bernard Mandeville's <span class="u">A Letter to Dion</span> (1732).</p> + +<p>42. Prefaces to Four Seventeenth-Century Romances.</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Eighth Year (1953-1954)</b></p> + +<p>43. John Baillie's <i>An Essay on the Sublime</i> (1747).</p> + +<p>44. Mathias Casimire Sarbiewski's <i>The Odes of Casimire</i>, +Translated by G. Hils (1646).</p> + +<p>45. John Robert Scott's <i>Dissertation on the Progress of the Fine Arts</i>.</p> + +<p>46. Selections from Seventeenth Century Songbooks.</p> + +<p>47. Contemporaries of the <i>Tatler</i> and <i>Spectator</i>.</p> + +<p>48. Samuel Richardson's Introduction to <i>Pamela</i>.</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Ninth Year (1954-1955)</b></p> + +<p>49. Two St. Cecilia's Day Sermons (1696-1697).</p> + +<p>50. Hervey Aston's <i>A Sermon Before the Sons of the Clergy</i>, (1745).</p> + +<p>51. Lewis Maidwell's <i>An Essay upon the Necessity and Excellency of +Education</i> (1705).</p> + +<p>52. Pappity Stampoy's <i>A Collection of Scotch Proverbs</i> (1663).</p> + +<p>53. Urian Oakes' <i>The Soveraign Efficacy of Divine Providence</i> (1682).</p> + +<p>54. Mary Davys' <i>Familiar Letters Betwixt a Gentleman and a Lady</i> (1725).</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Tenth Year (1955-1956)</b></p> + +<p>55. Samuel Say's <i>An Essay on the Harmony, Variety, and Power of Numbers</i> +(1745).</p> + +<p>56. <i>Theologia Ruris, sive Schola & Scala Naturae</i> (1686).</p> + +<p>57. Out of print.</p> + +<p>58. Eighteenth-Century Book Illustrations.</p> + +<p>59. Samuel Johnson's <i>Notes to Shakespeare</i>. Vol. I, Comedies, Part I.</p> + +<p>60. Samuel Johnson's <i>Notes to Shakespeare</i>. Vol. I, Comedies, Part II.</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Eleventh Year (1956-1957)</b></p> + +<p>61. Elizabeth Elstob's <i>An Apology for the Study of Northern Antiquities</i> +(1715).</p> + +<p>62. <i>Two Funeral Sermons</i> (1635).</p> + +<p>63. <i>Parodies of Ballad Criticism</i> (1711-1787).</p> + +<p>64. <i>Prefaces to Three Eighteenth-Century Novels</i> (1708, 1751, 1797).</p> + +<p>65. Samuel Johnson's <i>Notes to Shakespeare</i>. Vol. II, Histories, Part I.</p> + +<p>66. Samuel Johnson's <i>Notes to Shakespeare</i>. Vol. II, Histories, Part II.</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Twelfth Year (1957-1958)</b></p> + +<p>67. Henry Fielding's <i>The Voyages of Mr. Job Vinegar</i> (1740).</p> + +<p>68. Elkanah Settle's <i>The Notorious Impostor</i> (1692) and <i>Diego Redivivus</i> +(1692).</p> + +<p>69. <i>An Historical View of the ... Political Writers in Great Britain</i> (1740).</p> + +<p>70. G.W., <i>Magazine</i>, or <i>Animadversions on the English Spelling</i> (1703).</p> + +<p>71. Samuel Johnson's <i>Notes to Shakespeare</i>. Vol. III, Tragedies, Part I.</p> + +<p>72. Samuel Johnson's <i>Notes to Shakespeare.</i> Vol. III, Tragedies, Part II.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Thirteenth Year (1958-1959)</b></p> + +<p>73. Samuel Johnson's <i>Notes to Shakespeare</i>. Vol. III, Tragedies, Part III.</p> + +<p>74. <i>Seventeenth-Century Tales of the Supernatural.</i></p> + +<p>75. John Joyne, <i>A Journal</i> (1679).</p> + +<p>76. André Dacier. <i>Preface to Aristotle's Art of Poetry</i> (1705).</p> + +<p>77-78. David Hartley, <i>Various Conjectures on the Perception, Motion, and +Generation of Ideas</i> (1746).</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Fourteenth Year (1959-1960)</b></p> + +<p>79. William Herbert, Third Earl of Pembroke's <i>Poems</i> (1660).</p> + +<p>80. [P. Whalley's] <i>An Essay on the Manner of Writing History</i> (1746).</p> + +<p>81. Two Burlesques of Lord Chesterfield's Letters <i>The Graces</i> (1774) +<i>The Fine Gentleman's Etiquette</i> (1776).</p> + +<p>82. Henry Fuseli's <i>Remarks on the Writings and Conduct of J. J. Rousseau</i> +(1767).</p> + +<p>83. <i>Sawney and Colley</i> (1742) and other Pope Pamphlets.</p> + +<p>84. Richard Savage's <i>An Author To Be Lett</i> (1729).</p> + +<p class="ridt"><b>Fifteenth Year (1960-1961)</b></p> + +<p>85-86. <i>Essays on the Theatre from Eighteenth-Century Periodicals</i>. Selected, +with an introduction, by John Loftis. [double issue]</p> + +<p>87. Daniel Defoe, <i>Of Captain Misson and his Crew</i> (1728). Introduction by +Maximillian E. Novak.</p> + +<p>88. Samuel Butler, <i>Poems</i>. Selected, with an introduction, by Alexander C. +Spence.</p> + +<p>89. Henry Fielding, <i>Ovid's Art of Love</i> (1760). Introduction by Claude E. Jones.</p> + +<p>90. Henry Needler, <i>Works</i> (1728). Selected, with an introduction, by Marcia +Allentuck.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> +<h2>William Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California + +<br /><br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Augustan Reprint Society</span></h2> + +<p class="center"><i>General Editors</i></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">R. C. Boys</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">University of Michigan</span></td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Vinton A. Dearing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">University of California, Los Angeles</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Ralph Cohen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">University of California, Los Angeles</span></td> +<td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lawrence Clark Powell</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Corresponding Secretary</i>: Mrs. <span class="smcap">Edna C. Davis</span>, Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library</p> + + +<p>The Society's purpose is to publish reprints (usually facsimile reproductions) of rare seventeenth and +eighteenth century works. All income of the Society is devoted to defraying costs of publication and mailing.</p> + +<p>Correspondence concerning subscriptions in the United States and Canada should be addressed to the William +Andrews Clark Memorial Library, 2205 West Adams Boulevard, Los Angeles 18, California. Correspondence concerning +editorial matters may be addressed to any of the general editors. The membership fee is $4.00 a year for +subscribers in the United States and Canada and 15/- for subscribers in Great Britain and Europe. British and +European subscribers should address B.H. Blackwell, Broad Street, Oxford, England.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center">Publications for 1961-1962</p> + +<p>John Gay, Alexander Pope, and John Arbuthnot, <i>Three Hours After Marriage</i> (1717). Introduction by +John Harrington Smith. [double issue]</p> + +<p>John Norris, <i>Cursory Reflections Upon a Book Call'd, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding</i> +(1690). Introduction by Gilbert D. McEwen.</p> + +<p>An. Collins, <i>Divine Songs and Meditacions</i> (1653). Introduction by Stanley Stewart.</p> + +<p>An Essay on the <i>New Species of Writing Founded by <i>Mr. Fielding</i> (1751). Introduction by Alan +D. McKillop.</p> + +<p><i>Hanoverian Ballads.</i> Selected, with an Introduction, by John J. McAleer.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY<br /> + +<i>WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY</i><br /> + +<span class="smcap">2205 West Adams Boulevard, Los Angeles 18, California</span></h4> + +<p class="center">Make check or money order payable to <span class="smcap">The Regents of the University of California</span>.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Hours after Marriage, by +John Gay and Alexander Pope and John Arbuthnot + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE HOURS AFTER MARRIAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 37667-h.htm or 37667-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/6/6/37667/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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