The dramatic history of Master Edward: Miss Ann, Mrs. Llwhuddwhydd, and others. The extraordinaries of these times. Collected from Zaphaniel's original papers. Illustrated with copper-plates.

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LE RIRE EST LE PROPRE L'HOMME RAB.

The Conoisseur is mistaken, who fancys the Back drapery to be only a SHIFT.

Frontispeice.

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THE DRAMATIC HISTORY OF MASTER EDWARD. MISS ANN, MRS. LLWHUDDWHYDD, AND OTHERS.

THE EXTRAORDINARIES of theſe TIMES.

Collected from ZAPHANIEL's ORIGINAL PAPERS.

Illuſtrated with COPPER-PLATES.

LONDON: Printed for T. WALLER, oppoſite Fetter-Lane, Fleet-Street.

M DCC XLIII.

Dramatis Perſonae.

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MEN.

  • Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd,
  • Maſter Edward,
  • Ap Thomas,
  • Samuel Foote, Eſq
  • G. A. Stevens,
  • Corporal Knott,
  • Harry Howard,
  • Zaphaniel,
  • Mr. Warner,
  • Dancing-Maſter,
  • Mountebank,
  • Merry-Andrew,
  • Connoiſſeur,
  • Gentleman Haberdaſher.

WOMEN.

  • Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd,
  • Miſs Ann,
  • Miſs Shred,
  • Governeſs,
  • Winifred ap Shingle:

Conſtables, Bumbailiffs, Choice-Spirits, Goſſips, Stroling-Players, &c. &c. &c.

ZAPHANIEL'S Exhortation to his Fellows in the Faith.

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THOSE vain tale-bearing Books, entitled Memoirs, have ſo far ſubverted Readers, that the truth is to them but a threadbare Garment.

Unſatisfied are they with each Hiſtory, unleſs the Writer delivereth all the Particulars, concerning every Perſon whom he memorialiſes; from the Colour of an Eyebrow, even unto the Pattern of a Shoe-buckle.

Since therefore it accordeth, that Narrators muſt uſe ſuch Preciſion; enforced am I to extend my Plan, the primitive [Page 2] Deſign of which was no more, than to repeat the Spirit-moving Diſcourſes, that preceded this Play Actor, and comical Comedians Regeneration; which were utter'd unto him, by the great Mr. Whitfield, the good Mr. Weſley, the pious Mr. Bradbury, and the learned Mr. Romaine. But now it behoveth me, for expediting the Sale of my Book, to give an Account of his Birth, Parentage, Education, Character, and Behaviour. Yet, for as much as it doth not, in any Sort, ſuit me to deliver thoſe Hiſtorialiſms, according to the Vanity of the Times, I have agreed with a Scribe of this Town, vulgarly called a Wit; and he hath undertaken to Dreſs theſe Anecdotes, in all the faſhionable Language of fine fangled Phraſes, for the Peruſal of the Publick.

ADIEU.

1.

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1.1.

Page. 1.

Figure 1. Scene 1st.
[Page 1] SCENE the FIRST.

DANCING MASTER. EDITOR. ZAPHANIEL.

ONE afternoon as I was preparing a Political Eſſay, for the next day's Chronicle, in anſwer to a letter, I had inſerted the week before, on the other ſide the queſtion, the boy from the blue poſts, ſaid, two gentlemen wanted me at his maſter's.

My dear wife, whoſe prudence, and perſon, are unequalled, was unwilling I ſhould go; but upon recollection, I ventured (not without ſome neceſſary precaution, I muſt confeſs) and was inducted into a room, where two very well looking men were ſeated.

The ſhorteſt of them was dreſſed in a laced coat, a fine flowered gold and ſilver waiſtcoat, figured Ruffles, a heart at his ſhirt boſom made of green and red ſtones; he had a ſword and a bunch of ribbands at the handle, and he held a ſnuff-box in his hand.

As his complexion was of the olive tint, his eyes vacant, his noſtrils charged with rappee, and his eye-brows, forehead, and other parts of [Page 2] his face, indicating he much practiſed the look contemptuous, I took him for ſome foreign nobleman, juſt imported: but he was a figure dancer at the Opera-houſe; and thus he opened the buſineſs to me.

DANCING MASTER. Sir, we have taken the liberty to ſend for you; becauſe we hear you are an author. That gentleman (pointing to his friend, who wore his own dark brown hair, parted on the top of his head, and ſmòothly ſtroked down each ſide of his temples, then tucked behind his ears, as you have ſeen window curtains turned back) Mr. Zaphaniel has got ſome very curious ſtories relating to a particular player; but he wants to have them put into a proper ſtile.
EDITOR. What ſort of a ſtile, Sir?
DANCING MASTER. Nay as to that, Sir, it will be left to you. I have nothing to ſay to ſtile, for my part.—Gentlemen like me never read. I never looked into a Book in my life.—I keep my chariot, Sir, and people now-a-days, don't keep their chariots by book reading.
EDITOR. Would you have it in a drole ſtile, Sir?
DANCING MASTER. Ay, Ay, as drole as you can, faith—touch up all the actors and ſingers in it. They are only fit to be made game with; as to the dancers, you may let them alone, only if you can cleverly throw in any hints about myſelf, for I teach moſt of the people of faſhion in town, I am indecd the beſt dancer either for execution or addreſs, or ſchool buſineſs, in Europe. I [Page 3] hate vanity—but I'll tell you more of myſelf, when you come to dine with me.—Where's the papers, Zaffy?
ZAPHANIEL. There they are, tied up together in the window, thou may'ſt take them home (addreſſing himſelf to me) peruſe the contents: give me thy opinion of them, I will come to thee at the ſeventh hour on wedneſday next, as this porter ſeemeth to be very good, we will aſſemble here.
DANCING MASTER. But Sir (addreſſing himſelf to me likewiſe) that you may be the better able to underſtand what you are about, you ſhould have an idea of the perſon, who this hiſtory is wrote upon, therefore come to me next ſunday, two o'clock, to dine at Jemmy Warner's, NED will be therè, and Nancy with him. NANCY you muſt know, Sir, is a wench he's a friend to, for the fellow faith has a deviliſh ſmart ſort of a genius for high life; although he is but a player, he keeps his girl, wears embroidery, drinks burned champaign, and betts his 50 as freely, as if he was the beſt nobleman, or dáncing maſter in England.
EDITOR. But, Sir, you ſpoke ſomething of mentioning you in theſe memoirs.
DANCING MASTER. You muſt know, Sir, there is no doing any good in the world, without puffing. It does not ſignify, if you are the clevereſt fellow that can be, in your way, without you can puff yourſelf off, or get your friends to puff you off, you will never get forwards; for it is not now the queſtion, whether an artiſt is a genius? But whether [Page 4] he is in faſhion? Now there are ſeveral ways of managing this bringing a man into faſhion; ſome chuſe to bribe a very great lady's hair-dreſſer; others get into faſhion 'cauſe their fathers have a vote, or their ſiſter a pretty face, or they were born on this ſide, or that ſide Berwick-bridge; or, becauſe—becauſe—in ſhort, Sir, there are many ſchemes, but I don't like any of them half ſo well, as printing your merits in the news papers, or writing a book about it. I was let into the ſecret by my maſter, who got all his money by advertiſing. For, as he ſaid, never mind what other people ſay, do you ſay as much as you can for yourſelf; and keep at it; and if you will go on telling the town, ſo you will talk them into it, until they believe every ſyllable about you. The MSS. I took home with me, and, being promiſed ready money, began to digeſt the materials immediately.

1.2. ACT I.

1.2.1. SCENE II.

Maſter Neddy's Deſcent aſcertained, from the Antidiluvian Britiſh Records of the Llwhyddwhuydd Family.

NO, not all the wives in the world ſhall perſuade me to it. Not for all the wives in the world, would I ſuffer ſuch a thing. (ſtamping with his foot at the ſame time, and throwing his hat hard [Page 5] upon the ground) Bite my noſe? What the devil buſineſs has ſhe to long to bite my noſe? If it was a child of my own getting, and I loved the mother ever ſo well, I would not allow it.

Thus was Mr. Thomas Ap Morgan, a Welch chairman, very vehemently telling his mind to David Llwhyddwhuydd, his partner. David mildly replying, you know, my dear countryman, that now I am the very laſt, look you, of all the Llwhyddwhuydds in all Wales, and will any countryman of mine, any true Briton, and there are no true Britons but Welch folks, you know, Thomas.

THOMAS. Yes, to be ſure I do, and thank God for that, I am but a Welchman truly, but I am a true Briton, and Britons never will be ſlaves; and therefore why ſhould your wife want to bite my noſe then?
DAVID. Now, Thomas, would you have the moſt ancienteſt family in all Wales, and all Merionethſhire to boot, as indeed mine is, to be extinguiſhed, rather than let yourſelf be put to a little pain; and if my wife ſhould miſcarry, there is an end of all my hopes; for only Providence and good Sir Watkins knows, when I ſhall be able to get another child; for we have been a long time about this; and if we loſe this, all my hopes of having a family to inherit my nam [...] is gone; becauſe, you know, we have never another child in the world, but that which is coming to be born now.

[Page 6] Thomas picking up his hat, and wiping the flaps of it with his elbow, replied, you know, David, that I would not have Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd vexed now ſhe is ſo near her down-lying, upon any account; but why ſhould you ſay yours is the moſt ancienteſt family in Wales, did not the Ap Morgans go to meet William the conqueror?

DAVID. God's bleſſings upon us both, I am aſhamed to hear a Welchman talk of any thing ſo little a while ago as William the conqueror; why my family, I have all the parchment account of it at home, was in Wales before the deluge.
THOMAS. But where did they go when the world was drownded?
DAVID. Why they went on board ſhip with Captain Noah, and the ſhip ſettled upon a very high mountain, and the mountain was Penmanmuir, and Wales was the firſt place peopled again; and Japhet married into our family, and I have ſome of his blood now in my veins, and our family has been in Merionethſhire ever ſince. Now here lies the point, my dear. Suppoſe my ſon, becauſe my wife ſhould loſe her longing, is to be born without a noſe, or (God help us) with two noſes now; for great authors ſay, that a woman with child, when ſhe longs, or is affrighted the effects will be the ſame upon the child.
THOMAS. But I don't believe it, no more than if I am carrying a fare, and a dog ſhall come behind [Page]

Page 29th.

[Page 7] me and bite my leg, that the gentleman or the lady, look you, in the chair, ſhall have the print of the dog's teeth in their ſkin.
DAVID. But I will ſhew you, friend Thomas, from the teſtimony of learned wiſe men (pulling a book out of his pocket) I copied them with my own hand-writing, to convince you of the danger, that may attend letting my wife, that you profeſs ſo much friendſhip for, loſe her longing.
THOMAS. Well, you know, Mr. David, I love to hear hiſtories, ſo let us ſit down. They did ſo; and Mr. Lwhyddwuyd began to read the teſtimonies of the learned, as follows;

CASE. I.

Aldrovandus relates, that a woman in Sicily obſerving a lobſter taken by a fiſherman, and being moved by an earneſt longing for it, brought forth a lobſter, altogether like what ſhe had ſeen and longed for.—Vide the copperplate.

II. Is told by John Swammerdam. A certain woman at Utrecht, being with child, was frighted with the ſight of a negro, and apprehended to be delivered of a perfect black; but at laſt recollecting herſelf, ſhe made uſe of a ſecond imagination, to prevent the danger from the firſt; for ſhe waſhed herſelf from head to foot, with hot water, to clear the child from blackneſs. The time of her delivery being [Page 8] come, the child was born with all his teeth, and appeared perfectly white, except thoſe places, the hot water did not reach.

III. By ditto. A child was born in Normandy with horns upon his head, and cloven feet, and he proved afterwards to be a man of extraordinary ſenſe and judgment: the occaſion of that misfortune was, that his father having repreſented a ſatyr upon the ſtage, had the knowledge of his wife in that ridiculous dreſs.

IV. We have a caſe in Fabricius Hildanus, upon the faith of Ludovicus Horniceus, a phyſician of Frankfort, viz. a woman having been frighted with the firing of a gun, was delivered of a child with a wound in the back, of the ſame ſhape, as if it had been done with a muſquet ſhot.

V. Father Malebranche, in his ſearch after truth, relates, that ſeven or eight years ago, was ſeen in the hoſpital of incurables a young man, who was born an idoet; and whoſe body was broken in the ſame places where malefactors are broke; he had lived near twenty years in that condition, and has been ſeen by ſeveral perſons. The cauſe was, his mother hearing a criminal was to be broke, went to ſee the execution.

Father Malebranche proceeds to explain this ſtrange accident: children, ſays he, ſee what their mothers ſee; they hear the ſame cries, they receive the ſame impreſſions of the objects, and are moved by the ſame paſſions; all the blows given to the malefactor did violently ſtrike the [Page 9] mother's imagination; and by the counterblow, the tender and ſoft brain of the child.—The fibres of the child's brain, not being able to reſiſt the torrent of the ſpirits, were broken; that's the reaſon why he came into the world without underſtanding. The violent courſe of the mother's animal ſpirits went with force from her brains to the ſeveral parts of her body, which anſwered to the parts of the malefactor: 'twas the ſame in the child—but becauſe the bones of the mother were capable to reſiſt the violence of the ſpirits, they were not wounded. But this rapid ſtream of the ſpirits was capable to carry away the ſoft and tender parts of the bones of the child; and 'tis to be obſerved, that if the mother had determined the motion of the ſpirits, toward any other part of the body, her child had not had his bones broke; but that part which anſwered to the part towards which the mother determined her ſpirits had been ſorely wounded.

VI. A gentlewoman of Helſenor, ſays Bartholin, was delivered of a great cat; which, to the aſtoniſhment of the aſſiſtants, ran away with great celerity, and was never ſeen afterwards—becauſe the lady was frightened with one.

VII. Bartholin alſo relates; I have it, he ſays from John Naborouſky, a gentleman of Poland, and my good friend, that a woman of that country was brought to bed of two ſmall fiſhes, without ſcales; which were no ſooner born, but they ſwam in the neighbouring waters, as naturally as others do; becauſe the lady did long for them; ſo that you ſee, my friend Thomas, [Page 10] look you, it is all the ſame, according to the opinions of theſe learned people, whether a lady is frighted, or whether a lady longs.

THOMAS: Well, let us hear ſome more ſtories, in the Name of God.—I do love to hear ſuch things, to be ſure; but God help me, for my own ſake, but to be ſure I cannot believe all theſe things, ſo well as the ſcholars do, becauſe I have not their learning; but go on, do my friend, do go on. Which requeſt David obeyed immediately.

VIII. Philippus Meurs, apoſtolical prothonotary, and cannon of St. Peter's in Louvain, a reverend ancient man, affirmed unto me, and ſeveral others, ſays our author, Thomas Fienus, that he had a ſiſter compleat in the reſt of her body, but without a head. Inſtead of which, was joined to her neck a ſhell fiſh, in the likeneſs of a ſea-muſcle, made up of two ſhells, which ſhut and opened; and by which, from a ſpoon, ſhe took her nouriſhment. And this he ſaid was occaſioned, for that the mother with child with her had a ſtrong deſire after ſome muſcles ſhe beheld in the market, but could not procure at that inſtant. This ſiſter of his lived in this monſtrous condition, to be eleven years old; and then, by accident, happening angrily, and very ſtrongly, to bite the ſpoon they fed her with, and breaking the ſhells, died quickly after.

IX. Schenkius tells of a woman very big; who, among other diſcourſes with her neighbours, mention being made of her great belly, ſhe told them, ſhe reckoned about the time of Epiphany, [Page 11] or feſtival of the three kings. Upon which the good woman wiſhing ſhe might bring forth three kings; ſhe merrily anſwered, with all her heart; and accordingly, at the time, ſhe bore three ſons; one of them an Ethiopian, or of a black colour, as uſually one of thoſe kings are painted. The ſame relation is confirmed by Cornel. Gemma, being ſeen, as he ſays, by great multitudes, in the city of Louvain, and authenticated by undoubted teſtimony.

X. There was a lady, a kinſwoman of mine, ſays Sir Kenelm Digby, who uſed much to wear black patches upon her face (a faſhion among young women) which I, to put her from, uſed to tell her in jeſt, that the next child ſhe ſhould go with, ſhould come into the world with a great black ſpot in the midſt of its forehead; and the apprehenſion was ſo lively in her imagination, that ſhe had a daughter born, and marked juſt as the mother had fancied, with a great black ſpot upon her.

XI. There lived amongſt us at Bern in Switzerland, ſays Gul. Fabricius, an honeſt woman, who, about ten years ſince, being great with child, and quarrelling with another woman, put herſelf into ſuch a paſſion, that ſhe was unable to contain herſelf. After which, falling into labour, ſhe was brought to bed of a daughter, of a couragious and heroick mind, but her feet and hands contracted, as if ready to fight, and her whole body in continual motion, ſo that ſhe walks, as it were, dancing, and in a trembling poſture, after the manner of angry people, unable to govern their paſſion.

[Page 12] XII. Amb. Parey gives us to underſtand, that in the year 1517, a child was born (in a village near Fontainbleau) with the ſhape of its face exactly like that of a frog; which was brought to paſs by the mother's holding that creature in her hand, to allay the heat of a fever, about the time of her conception.

XIII. But ſomething ſingular beyond all theſe, is the tale of Languis, of a woman longing to bite the naked ſhoulder of a baker paſſing by her; which, rather than ſhe ſhould loſe her longing, the good-natured huſband hired the baker at a certain price. Accordingly, when the big-bellied woman had bit twice, the baker's wife broke away from the people who held her, would not ſuffer her to bite her huſband again; for want of which, ſhe bore one dead child, with two living ones.

Why then, I ſay (thus Thomas very loudly began, hitting his hand hard upon the table) I ſay, the baker was—.

At that inſtant a voice from the ſtreet called chair, chair; out run Mr. David and Mr. Thomas, the book, the noſe, the wife, were in an inſtant forgot; for the occult deſire of money-getting annihilates all other conſiderations, as black abſorbs all factitious colours.

How the chairman came to be ſo learned (as we all love to know every thing) courteous reader, you ſhall, if you pleaſe, be informed.

Page 12

He was the living Lexicon, to which the whiſt and jockey clubs applied, whenever they made a bett about ſpelling a word; and he had, from obſervation, acquired ſuch a genius or power in diſputation, that all ſmatterers he ſilenced, as eaſily as Socrates did the Sophiſts; if a true ſcholar happened to contradict him, David, from his knowledge of the world, dumfounded the ſtudent, by offering him ten pound on't; for he proceeded upon one general, and not an often controverted principle, i. e. no rich men will mind learning; ergo, only poor folks are ſcholars.

Therefore every fool, every dunce, dares to aſſert, to contradict, to find fault, or praiſe; even with the utmoſt ignorant effrontery, and oppoſe the opinions of men of real merit—blockheads having one undeniable reſource, the propoſing a wager.

Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd, maſter Neddy's mama, was born in America, the daughter of a mulatto woman, her papa, the famous councellor Juſtice, who was ſent abroad on account of ſome books being miſſing. The grandfather's diſgrace is the reaſon why none of his deſcendants ever choſe to learn their letters.

Hence, as Heinſius obſerves, it is very eaſy to account for the Hero of this Hiſtory being illiterate.

Miſs Juſtice was imported under-cook to a Weſt-Indian family, who came to England for improvement; they hired a fine houſe the ſouth ſide of Maidſtone, within half a mile exactly [Page 14] of the market-place, and on the right-hand of the London road.

N. B. The utmoſt preciſion is made uſe of in relating the ſituation of the houſe, becauſe an attention to truth is the Editor's greateſt care throughout the whole of this publication.

In Maidſtone, at this time, there was a company of Comedians, that town and county being remarkable for the reſidence of ſuch ſort of people. It is an obſervation of naturaliſts, that turnips and attornies thrive beſt in Norfolk; that Suſſex is noted for bad roads and ſmugglers; and that it is as impoſſible to eradicate buggs from London, as to free Kent from Hoppickers, Gipſies, and Stroling Players.

In all rural theatrical communities, it is the cuſtom of one of the actors to carry play-bills to the people of faſhion's houſes about the country; and as theſe Jamaica gentlefolks were remarkable for ſumptuous living, the manager caſt himſelf into that part of the buſineſs; this occaſioned much murmuring when his back was turned, among the reſt of the company; they would meet at the ale-houſe, and call him all the ſcoundrels, and tyrants imaginable; but the moment they ſaw him returning, they run out of the room, begged he would drink with them, and happy was he; who could get his handkerchief out firſt, to wipe the duſt off from his maſter's ſhoes. He loved, like moſt of his brethren, eleemoſinary high living, therefore he never miſſed carrying up a bill every morning to the Weſt Indian ſquires; and uſed to wait in the hall, at firſt, along with the butcher's boy, to know their honours commands.

Page 15.

The Moonlight amour

Figure 2. Scene 4th.

[Page 15] But Miſs Juſtice, being very fond of players, aſked this proprietor of cloaths and ſcenes to ſtep into the pantry, where the reſt of the ſervants aſſembled, there he was treated with ſeveral remnants of danties ſaved from yeſterday's dinner, and he made the kitchen company vaſtly merry, for he could be exquiſitely entertaining.

He ſpoke Tragedy ſpeeches to them, he ſhowed them tricks, he made them faces, he ſung ſongs, he acted the lame man, and the ſtuttering man, and ſtood upon his head, and drank out of his ſhoe, no man had more wit than he had; and he rehearſed all the other comicalities, by which benefit-making geniuſes puſh their tickets off. The young lady above-mentioned fell in love with this maſter actor, his name, or at leaſt the name he went by, was Samly; and as Mr. Samly was ſeeing Miſs Juſtice home from the play-houſe, in about a week afterwards, ſhe confeſſed her affection to him, and informed him, that ſhe had forty nine pounds of her own, and in her own poſſeſſion, all in ſpecie.

Samly immediately fell in love with her, they vowed eternal fidelity to each other, and ratified thoſe vows by the moſt particular engagement, before they went out of the home cloſe, while the bright ſtars in the fiery fretted canopy of heaven ſparkled over their heads, and the ſilent gloworms twinkled at their ſides, the leafy hedges ruſtling to their embraces, and the whoping owls at diſtance toot tooting to their ſighs (as Mr. Samly obſerved) made up great nature's loving concert. The next week, unknown to any of their acquaintance, they ſet out for London together; Samly left his cloaths and ſcenes behind him; indeed they were mortgaged [Page 16] for rather more than the worth, to the landlord of the ſtable in which they acted.

The Editor of this Treatiſe remembers this Mr. Samly's company at Maidſtone, and they had the uſe of a brewhouſe to ſhift their cloaths in; the ladies dreſſing-place was the maſh-tub, and Alexander the Great, he has known to rehearſe his mad ſcene very cleverly in the cooler.

The brace of lovers determined to remain in cog for ſome time in London; becauſe, as Miſs Juſtice ſaid, what would all the world think of her, if all the world ſhould come to know it? therefore deſired Mr. Samly would get a licence as ſoon as poſſible.

That he promiſed upon his honour ſhould be his next morning's buſineſs; and added, at the ſame time, my ineffable Chloe, we will content ourſelves with theſe lodgings for the preſent; what to thee or me does it a drachma ſignify, if as yet, we are at St. Giles's or St. James's—no, we are ourſelves, let us be where we pleaſe.

Upon the inſtant he brandiſhed his lady's curling irons, with which he was then pinching his bag wig.—Majeſtically he ſtrode croſs the room, and then with moſt emphatical dignity—he—ſpit out of the window.

Reſuming his ſubject, thus he went on—before the winter comes on, thou opening roſe of beauty, we'll take a ready furniſhed houſe in ſome of the genteel ſquares about Piccadilly. But firſt, I'll determine with myſelf, which Theatre I chuſe to belong to.—A man of my merit, my lovely attractreſs, will be careſſed by the managers of both houſes; ſo I'll play them off one againſt t'other; promiſe them both, and at laſt, who bids moſt has me. I know my cue—but I am reſolved never to come upon the ſquare of [Page 17] common ſalary actors; no, I will have ſo much certain when I play, or elſe ſuch a ſum of money out of the houſe as a ſharer, and this way—(hitching up his breeches at the ſame time) this way I ſhall, keep up my conſequence; and conſequence is what an actor ought to ſtudy, as much, ay, and more than his parts. But it happened to Mr. Samly, as it may have to thee, reader, his expectations were ſuperior to his advancement; the managers of both Theatres refuſed him.

His caſe was very ſevere, he had a great mind to print it, to let the town know how he was uſed; he did ſo, but it did not anſwer any purpoſe; the public took no notice of it, and the bookſeller loſt money by it.

His lady's fortune being ſoon diſſipated, duns grew exceedingly impertinent, misfortunes preſented themſelves before him, in all the frightful phantoms of hunger, bad ſhoes, bum bailiffs, rainy weather, no truſt, and an empty coal-hole; he curſed the pride of managers, their ignorance, their inhumanity; he damned the town, he deſpiſed life, he grew deſperate; and one morning, before the fringed covering of his lady's eye-lights were withdrawn, he went down ſtairs, and opening the ſtreet-door, he, I am afraid it will never be believed, but the fact is authentic, and I can bring ſeveral reputable people to witneſs the truth of it,—he, that very morning, reſolved—to work at his own buſineſs, and relinquiſh the ſtage for ever, ſaying, with Cardinal Wolſey,

Farewel, a long farewel to human greatneſs; onwards he went, leaving his lady, London, his creditors, and choice ſpirits, making the beſt of his way to his own pariſh in Nottinghamſhire, [Page 18] to work at the ſtocking frame, nor caſt one longing lingring look behind.

1.2.2. SCENE III.

Miſs Shred and Miſs Juſtice.

MISS Juſtice received a letter from Samly that very day by the penny-poſt, with his reaſons for abſenting himſelf; and as the epiſtle is really curious, we ſhall preſent a copy of it to the reader, recommending the author to the notice of the gentlemen publiſhers of Periodical Papers, as a proper perſon to be employed by them, when they need a journaliſt.—Since he can moraliſe, ſeems to know mankind, has a pretty knack at abuſe, can write very well on the worſt ſide the queſtion, does not much mind orthography, and by his manner, I fancy him neither timid, heſitating, or conſcientious.

To Mrs. SAMLY.

My dear Adorable,

WHEN I conſider life, 'tis all a cheat; as to the managers, blaſt ſuch ſcoundrels; however, I'm reſigned to fate, whatever world I next am thrown upon, cannot be worſe than this—as I am now determined to rennounce the follys, paſſions and delights of deſire, I have been obliged to leave thee, my life and ſoul, my all that heaven can give; what can I do, while there was one thing my charmer had [Page 19] left to raiſe money upon; did I deſert her—no— did I not, my lovely creature, ſtay with thee till the laſt penny was ſpent; for we were rich in love; but now approaching want, with all its wofill train appearing, I retire from the ſtorm, not being able to live, my dear, and ſee thee in diſtreſs; therefore have cut myſelf off from all the pleaſure of loved London, and thee the chief, and condeſcend (curſe on my ſtars) to the vile mekanicall method of being obliged to get bread, by working at my buſineſs.

I leave you in good hands, I know my landlord loves you; and if during my exile, as he is rich, you admit him into my throne, only for a time, why it will be political; I give you leave, as it may expedite my recall. As Congreve ſays, he takes your body, I your mind. I muſt have the better bargain—remember this is my requeſt, nay, my command to yield yourſelf up to one perſon, for the ſake of another, and what is done by the fineſt women in England, and what I would do for you, with the fineſt woman in England.

Adieu.

After Samly had put the letter in the poſtoffice, he recollected his dear Chloe could not read—however, upon reflection, he was not ſorry for that; for, by heavens, and all the ingenuity of arts and ſciences, he called out, it is an elegant Epiſtle, equal to any of Pope's literary correſpondence; and whoever my girl gets to read my letter for her, will and muſt admire the writer, and with me lament the loſs which the town muſt receive, by thoſe fellows of managers not employing me.

[Page 20] Juſt as the epiſtle above-mentioned came to hand, it happened that Miſs Shred was upon a viſit to Miſs Juſtice, or Mrs. Samly, as ſhe was called in the neighbourhood. This young lady, the viſitor, had a very great taſte for plays herſelf, and was an occaſional actreſs at Richmond, and at Bartholomew Fair; her father has been breeches ſeater to me theſe nine years, and it was from his mouth, that I have been aſſured of the authenticity of this relation.

As ſoon as Miſs Juſtice had heard the letter read, ſhe ſhrieked, ſhe ſtamped, ſhe wrung her hands, ſhe took ſalts: not Ariadne for the loſs of Theſeus; not a quean condemned to the ducking-ſtool; not—but no alluſions could carricature her. Her lamentations brought up the landlord Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd, to whom Miſs Shred diſcovered Samly's perfidy, although ſhe did not ſhow him the letter, but begged Mr. David would leave the lady a little until ſhe came to herſelf. As it is good manners to do ſo, we will attend the chair—carrying gentleman down ſtairs, who rejoiced exceedingly at the two pieces of good news, as he called them.

In the firſt place, to find Mr. Samly was not her huſband; and in the next place, to ſuppoſe Mr. Samly was run away from her; for David long had loved, long had he ſecretly admired her.

The tender God of ſoft deſires rouſed all the ſentimental ſoul of Llwhyddwhuydd, ſoftning his heart, as vinegar will render marble ſupple.

Page 21.

Men have odd taſtes; why then ſhould David be blamed for this? Is it not common for ladies to relate the ſurpriſing conqueſts they have made over their huſbands, and the ſimple means by which thoſe victories have been obtained. Madam Blanch avowed to me, her ſpouſe fell in love with her for her ſmall ear. The deputy's wife ſhot her good man with a pair of black ſattin ſhoes, and ſtone buckles; the motion of the hips in walking has made many lady's fortune. Eſquire Pointer declared but laſt week, he was particularly ſtruck with the white point of his wife's elbow: and with all-becoming reverence for the marriage ſtate do I ſpeak this, as I am myſelf in that nuptial band, I was won to ſurrender my liberty to the all excellent graces [Page 22] of my wife, who, in her virgin ſtate, alarmed my eager deſires, when ſhe threw herſelf into that moſt graceful attitude of tying her garter. Here I muſt beg leave to be indulged with ſome anecdotes concerning my ſpouſe.

She was born, ſhe was bred a gentlewoman, I married her out of Sir Trinket Trolly's family; her mamma was companion to lady Trolly, and my wife, born in that houſe, was educated in all the becoming elegance, inherent to a woman of the firſt quality.

While I paid my addreſſes to her, ſeveral wealthy tradeſmen proffered her their ſervices; but her ſoul was above mixing with vulgarities. She ſcorned to liſten to the voice of mechanic money-loving-ſlaves, ſhe valued the addreſſes of a man of wit, more than all Peru.

On that hint I ſpoke,

She lov'd me for the ſtories which I told;
And I loved her, 'cauſe ſhe did liſten to them.

The rules of politeneſs obliged us to leave the afflicted Miſs Juſtice, when decency deſired Davy to go down ſtairs; but now we have liberty again to walk into her apartment.—Sit down, good reader, you are very welcome, the young lady is pretty well recovered, a ſerenity beams upon her brow, there is not the leaſt print of affliction's footſteps to be ſeen upon her countenance.

But this calmneſs was not owing either to the affected pedantry of ſchool ſtoiciſm, called philoſophy, which honeſt teague, who never read a page of Seneca, ſo well defined, by ſaying, by Jaſus I am born to be unhappy, ſo I'll make myſelf very eaſy about the matter.

[Page 23] Neither was the young lady of ſo callous a conſtitution, as to be eaſily reconciled to the departure of her gallant, by the method which the preſent females of intrigue make uſe of, viz. immediately to throw themſelves in the way of another—no, this happy reſtoration was effected by that never-failing Noſtrum, Nants Brandy. Q. S.

Miraculous ſpecific! bluſh, bluſh, ye diplomiſts of Greſham, ye who pretend to underſtand things; aſico for your knowledge, pound all the Materia Medica together in a mortar, can ye compoſe ſuch a mental Succedaneum? — Behold, reader, the two young ladies, and mark with what courteous words the viſiting lady addreſſes the lady viſited.

Mrs. Shred. My dear Samly take t'other pinch, it will do your head good. Thus kindly did my taylor's daughter conſole her companion, untwiſting at the ſame time her paper of rappee.
Mrs. Juſtice. Call me not Samly, dear creature, I conjure you, I deteſt the name. Oh Miſs Shred! what woman would ever put her truſt in man.
Mrs. Shred. Curſe on um indeed, my dear, man is as the poet ſays, ‘Deceitful as the vind.’ Therefore woe be to the woman, who has imbibed any fond ideas for Wits or Players, or ſuch ſort of Geniuſſes. Curſe me, if ever Wit did any good to man, woman or child, ſince the invention of clean linnen.—As to WIT'S perdition, catch ſuch ſcrubs—they behave as bad to their ladies, as they do to one another. [Page 24] They'll never give an abſent friend a good word, or allow a girl a ſecond gown to ſee company in.
1.2.2.1. Miſs Shred's Story.

Yes—I muſt confeſs, a wit was the firſt man who really had me, that is, critically ſpeaking, poſſeſſed my ſoul; as to my perſon, that was merely paſſive, in all thoſe other connections, to which my intereſt made me ſubmit; becauſe, as I was then upon the town, and my inclinations not being engaged with my embraces, I was as indifferent to the performance as an actreſs, when ſhe plays a part don't pleaſe her.

In London, madam, there are men, as well as women, on the town, and they go by the names of Wits, and Droles, and Clever-fellows, and Choice Spirits; whether they give theſe titles to themſelves, or other people call them ſo, its no matter, but they are ſent for into company to divert people of faſhion, with what they can do, juſt as girls are, I mean, madam, in the way of ſinging and ſaying comic things, and telling ſtories.

It is a ſhame though, men ſhould expoſe themſelves ſo, becauſe they are all of them bred to trades, and might get their livings honeſtly and decently, if they were not a ſet of lazy, mean-ſpirited, and conceited fellows.

Now when any of our ſex is blaſted, it is all up with us, we are unhappy enough to be reduced to the neceſſity of going into company, or ſtarving; no body will employ us in an honeſt way; becauſe a girl who is forced to be a whore for her livelihood, is looked upon (eſpecially [Page 25] by all good chriſtians) to be the moſt contemptible creature upon the face of the earth.

I ſent a card to one of theſe wits and geniuſes to ſup with me; the conſequence of which you may naturally ſuppoſe — we went to bed together. — Really I loved him infinitely, for he was not only vaſtly clever, but immenſely odd, and that, you know, takes with our ſex immoderately.

But he ſoon behaved as all ſuch ſort of people will, horridly ingrateful. For after I had paid all his debts (they were not large, indeed, becauſe no ſhops would give him much credit) new cloathed him, and put money in his pocket, he uſed me—as ſurlily, as if I had been his wife; had I really been married to him, he cou'd not have treated me worſe.

The word fool, fool; was perpetually his anſwer, not only to me, but to all his acquaintance; we were all fools, he ſwore, and yet in the whole fifteen months of our cohabitation, tho' he called every body bockheads, yet he never did one rational, or juſt thing: but by chance; he could repartee drolely, tell very high ſtories, argue charmingly upon all ſubjects, make ſongs as faſt as I could cut out cap-patterns; but his words and his deeds were no more alike, than the ſign of a dolphin, and a real one.

He once wrote a book in praiſe of neatneſs in dreſs, of elegace, and of decency, he was three weeks about it, and in all that time, never waſhed his hands, face or teeth once. — Cleanlineſs, or dirt, was all the ſame to him, money or no money — only let him but get into company, 'was all he cared for, when he had no money, he was toſſed into the reckonings [Page 26] when he got three or four guineas, he threw it away; and he would ſooner ſit without ſhifting himſelf for a fortnight, in a night cellar, if he had no body left that he could make laugh but link boys, than be regular to the bounds of decency and domeſtic enjoyments.

He grew ſo overbearing at laſt, ſo irregular and ſo obſtinate, that I could not bear it — he ſcorned to be talked to, and too proud to ſay he had ever been in the wrong — he was indeed, as all wits are, irreſolute and froward as a baby, giddy as a drunken man, abſent as a lunatic, as difficult to be pleaſed as a vexed ideot, and conceited as an Opera Singer.

Oh, my dear, never have any thing to do with your geniuſes, unleſs you can get one of them now and then to write a ſong upon you, for that very often helps a lady to many a good friend—but for all that, I never would have any connection with ſuch ſort of ſparks—as to granting a man that made a good ſong upon me a favour, ang paſſawnt, as the French ſay, I ſhould not mind it—but don't never, dear creature, be fond of them—no—the only men worth a lady's notice, are thoſe gentlemen, who have no wit indeed, but then they have what is better than all the wit, genius and underſtanding in the world—and what moſt commonly wit, genius and underſtanding never have any thing to do with; and that is, MONEY—Money, my dear. Let but a lady have that—and ſhe is ſure of having, doing, ſaying, and being, juſt what ſhe pleaſes.

The next perſon to whom I was predeſtinated, happened to be neither a wit nor a ſcholar, nevertheleſs he was both a genius and a gentleman, becauſe he was a gameſter. As daring as a lyon, [Page 27] he would as ſoon draw his ſword as his ſnuff-box, and was as quick as volatile ſalts.

He valued his honour before any other conſideration, in the way of playing any game at cards or dice; for he would ſooner venture his life than be found out, ſo careful was he of his honour. You can't imagine how polite he was, and what fine company he kept, although, as I told you, he could hardly write his name, or ſpell a word of two ſyllables; but a gentleman's being ignorant of letters, is no proof againſt his politeneſs; for really, I believe, it would go very hard with ſome folks of the beſt company, if they were to be examined concerning their reading and writing.

Miſs JUSTICE. Very true, indeed, miſs; but thank God, perſons in polite life, are two well bred to be pedants, and I would no more aſk any fine gentleman or lady after their ſcholarſhips, than I would after their religion; becauſe both the one and the other's out of faſhion now.
Miſs SHRED. Well, madam, my friend did ſuch things in the money-winning way, and with ſuch grace!—to be ſure he lived like a nobleman, and mantained me like a dutcheſs; I had my equipage all upon gilded ſprings, and I uſed to ſcorn all low bred perſons, as I called them, for walking a foot; becauſe, as my friend uſed to tell me, nobody never need be poor, if they had but a ſpirit to do things — for if people wanted luck, they ſhould make it, or elſe be puniſhed with poverty for their faintheartedneſs.—But [Page 28] for all that, what by the law, or by one thing or another, we dwindled, to be obliged to live in a two pair of ſtairs back-room, madam, as you may do now; and I can't but ſay, we uſed to ſit and think ourſelves very ill done by Providence—becauſe, why ſhould we be poor? when we took as much pains in the proper way of getting fortunes, as ever any people did who got eſtates, as the faſhion is now to get them. Well, madam, at laſt we parted, and he married a methodiſt's widow, with 500 l. a year jointure, and I engaged myſelf as a figure dancer at the Opera Houſe, becauſe I was told, a lady had a better chance there of being taken into keeping, than at the Engliſh Play-houſes. But I did not find the Opera people's taſte ſo eager at intriguing with any of our ſex, as I expected.—O, curſe that Italy, my dear—but no more of that—I grew very low, and I ſent to my late friend, who had married the methodiſt's widow for a guinea; and his anſwer was, truly he had done with all the vanities of this life, and ſo ſhould I; and that he would adviſe me not to look after money, but go and ſeek the Lord.
Miſs JUSTICE. But who am I to ſeek, who'll ſeek me?
Miſs SHRED. Nay, as to that, madam, never deſpair, remember what is ſaid to you in the letter about your landlord David.—I am ſure it may be eaſily brought about for him to marry you, I have ſo often heard him ſay, what would he give for ſuch a wife as you.

Page 7th. Case 1.

[Page 29] Miſs JUSTICE. But, dear creature, would it not be immenſely ſhocking, and abſurd in me—in me, to deſcend from being an actor's, nay a manager's miſtreſs, and become a chairman's wife—periſh that thought—can I bear it? can I, dear Miſs Shred, can I, who came from a gentleman's family. Yes, madam, my papa was a counſellor at law, he was proſecuted for his merit, perſecuted for the ſuperiority of his talents, and baniſhed from his native country by faction; but I am his own daughter; and can I ever agree to have theſe arms filled with any body, who is not a gentleman born, or who is not ſo by profeſſion; or is not a perſon of conſequence, ay, conſequence; that was what my deceiver Samly uſed to inſiſt upon; his conſequence; but why ſhould I mention him, or any other belonging to the ſtage; I, who have ſuffered by my fatal connection with an actor; O! that the world was all in flames, that final deſtruction might ſeize on all, ſince I am deceived; deſerted. Farther ſhe could not proceed, for her friend, fearful leaſt her companion ſhould relapſe into freſh grief, ſnatched up the pewter meaſure in a moment, in which was one remaining cordial draught, and holding it to Chloe's lips, inſiſted on her not making any more words, but drink it off.
CHLOE,
[Wiping her lips.
Dear Shred, you are ſo immenſely kind; that, to convince you of my eſteem, I will be ruled by you, and marry this horrid creature; nay, I'll do more; for from henceforth I bid [Page 30] adieu to all high life't ideas, to the fond charms of even dear intrigue.
Miſs SHRED. Miſs Juſtice, you ſhould not make raſh vows; conſider, my dear, you are a gentlewoman, and many gentlewomen marry only for the ſake of intriguing; we ſhould uſe the ſex as that ſex ought to be uſed. I would always chuſe the man, who I fancied moſt propereſt for my intereſt, to be my huſband; and then chuſe the man, whom I moſt fancied, for my lover.
CHLOE. But how, dear creature, am I ſure, that as this odd mortal, this David, my landlord, now he knows I was only Samly's miſtreſs, how am I ſure, I ſay, that he will have me for a wife? and upon my ſoul, I would ſooner die than derogate ſo far from the dignity of my birth, and my principles of honour; as to live with any man but a gentleman, without being married to him.
Miſs SHRED. As to that, my dear, you are vaſtly in the right on't; and our ſex ought to be as ſtrict in keeping up our conſequence, in that point, as any, or more than any other; but as to the landlord's knowing of your having an affair — to be ſure, although he is but a chairman, yet he is a Welſhman; and he might, perhaps, have too much ſpirit, had he not lived ſo many years at this end of the town, as to know that it is faſhionable; and what is faſhionable, you know, muſt be polite. Beſides, my dear, not one of [Page 31] his companions dare to hit him in the teeth with it, if he was to marry you, for fear of offending one or other of their beſt cuſtomers.
CHLOE. I am determined; but, at the ſame time, am as determined, to avoid even the appearance of intrigue; what other ladies of taſte and delicacy do, ſhall be no rule for me to go by. I will be true to my huſband, my honour, and myſelf, nor ever again grant any other man (ſave him) an involuntary embrace.

The next week's ſun ſaw her blazon'd in the matrimonial inſtallation. With how much firmneſs of ſoul, ſhe maintained her reſolution of chaſtity, will be expreſſed in ſome of the ſucceeding chapters. In the concluſion of this, I hope, the reader will give me leave to obſerve, that though, like Miſs Shred, ladies may be women of the town, and actreſſes at the ſame time; and that there are ſome females belonging to the Theatres, who, now publickly act in both capacities; yet ſo far from being a reproach, it is the greateſt argument, which can be brought, in ſupport of the profeſſion of a player; for although the want of chaſtity, like the want of money, may make ſome people appear but in an indifferent light; yet, according to the times, neither of them have any thing to do, at preſent, with the reſpect which is paid to the accompliſhments of genius.

1.2.3. SCENE MATRIMONY.

[Page 32]

ON the wedding-night, after the raptures of enjoyment between Mr. and Madam Llwhyddwhudd were evaporated; when every heart-felt thrill and throb of deſire ſubſided; each fine ſtring of delight, which had been extatic ſtretched by imagination's apparatus, let down into a philoſophic relaxation, the new married pair lay back to back. — The lady being moſt reſtleſs, was conſidering, whether it would, or would not, offend the rules of delicacy, if ſhe was once again to turn to her huſband.

Her ſpouſe was then debating, ſince he had married ſo good a cook, and ſo notable a woman, about making his houſe a public one; which he did the winter following, and had great buſineſs, among the beſt people in the neighbourhood; his ſpouſe being ſo obliging a landlady, occaſioned the famous TRIPE AND TROTTER CLUB, to be inſtituted at Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd's.

THE TRIPE AND TROTTER CLUB, was the original of all the other Clubs now exiſting in this metropolis. — From thence came the famous Beef-ſtake Clubs, the Whiſt Clubs, the Ox-cheek Clubs, the Jockey Clubs, the Hornpipe Clubs, the Pea-ſoup Clubs, the Choice Spirit Clubs, the Spirituous Liquor Clubs, the Political Clubs, the Philoſophical Clubs, the Roaſting Clubs, the Punning Clubs, the Spouting Clubs, the Kept Miſſes Clubs, and the Club of Diſcontents.

[Page 33] David, as he began to get money, grew aſthmatical and pot-bellied; not breathing ſo freely as he was won't to do, it frighten'd him; like the reſt of the wealth accumulating part of mankind, he was terrified at the thoughts of dying, therefore ſent for a phyſician immediately.

Reader, you muſt have known ſuch perſons, who, while they worked for their living, were uſeful members to ſociety; but when, by chance or craft, they become maſters of money, aſſumed a haughtineſs of behaviour, abandoning themſelves to a vitiated ſtate of idleneſs, and gluttony. The event is, their being ſeized with a complication of infirmities, which, in their active and praiſe-worthy ſtate, they felt not; they hurry to a doctor, give five guineas for advice, in hopes to have a worthleſs carcaſe ſheathed from the worms; which, was it to continue on the earth for twenty years longer, would not be of five ſhillings uſe to any of its fellow creatures.

David, by his phyſician's order, was to return to his former trade; this he had entirely left off; his ſoul, as he ſaid, being always rather above ſuch an employment; but when health is concerned, when a life is to be ſaved by it— although a lady or gentleman may have ever ſo good a ſpirit, to be ſure, upon ſuch conſiderations, they muſt give way; according to Sir John Falſtaff's aphoriſm,

‘Honour muſt be hid in neceſſity.’

While Mr. David was putting himſelf once more into chair-carrying exerciſe, ſome ſoldiers were ordered to be quartered in his neighbourhood; [Page 34] and Corporal Knott brought a billet for himſelf, to Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd's

The Corporal was a gentleman remarkable for his gallantry; he had had as many fine woman as any general officer; he was form'd for intrigue, and graced with every accompliſhment which could undo the fair.

He ſung all the ſongs in the Beggars Opera, he could ſpeak ten Tragedy love ſpeeches, could dance a hornpipe, ſhew tricks with cards, balance a lady's fan upon his noſe, no gentleman could fill a tea-pot more gracefully, or ſwear more often, or more agreeably: then he wore his hat ſo ſmartly bluff, and his hair was powdered ſo ſmooth, could he have been but as conſtant as he was lovely. Yet as no man is perfect, he affected to imitate his betters, and boaſt of his amours.

It is natural for one hero to take another for his pattern; he choſe Alexander the Great for his; it was the Macedonians frailty to glory too much in his conqueſts; which Arrian could no more excuſe in the ſon of Philip, than I can in Corporal Knott.

He, though admired by the fair, was diſliked by his brother ſubalterns, eſpecially the veterans, who, hagged by winter campaigns, their faces weather-worn, and ſcarified; did not like to ſee him look ſo plump, ſo pert, ſo ſmoothfaced, and wear his linnen ſo well ironed; when they, who had endured all the inclemency of every hard ſeaſon, in the tented and untented fields of unhoſpitable Germany; who reflected, that, at the time they were thus fighting their country's battles, inſtead of wearing nice plaited linnen, had not any linnen to plait; and half a [Page 35] dozen brave Britiſh battallion boys, who ſcorned to turn their backs upon double the number of French fellows, though all beruffled and chitterlin'd, yet all their linnen, would not ſet up a tinder merchant.

They ſnarled at this beau Corporal; ſwearing he was not fit for any ſervice, but juſt to make one in an officer's guard, at the Opera-houſe.

Often have I heard theſe non-commiſſioned heroes, as they have limped along—that defect in their gait proceeding, either from the wounds received in battle; or from the neglect of not being dreſſed after the fight; or from incurable contractions, or relaxations, the fatal effects of being expoſed to the ſcorching heats, and ſudden damps of Africa, and America; and to the ſeverity of wintering in ill-provided quarters, on the banks of the Rhine, the Weeſer, the Lippe, &c. &c. for which, perhaps, Flemiſh and Dutch commiſſaries, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I was preſent at the diſputation, which old Winterneſs had with Corporal Knott on this ſubject; which, with the reader's leave, we'll inſert — becauſe, if it is not a ſtory, it is a dialogue; and as it is a dialogue, it will be a means of diſplaying a copper-plate exhibition of an old warrior, and a junior fine gentleman; or, more properly, to explain the print; it is a contraſt between the Charms of Peace in Mr. Knott's figure, and the Fortune of War in the old ſoldier's portrait.

At the valiant tooper the altercation happened; old Winterneſs was relating in the Corporal's [Page 36] company all the engagements he had been in; fighting all his battles o'er and o'er again, and marking with a ſtick, upon the ſand of the ale-houſe kitchen, the marches and countermarches of our armies, dwelling with emphaſis on the ſpot where he had received a ſhot, or loſt a limb.—There, my boys, juſt there, where I put my foot now, there I ſtood on the left of the Scotch greys, and had theſe two cuts on my ſkull, and, as it mought be here, I had theſe three wounds; and ſuppoſing now theſe pieces of pipe to be our front line, as I was to the right of the royal, a muſquet ball took me in flank, and went through both my thighs, and there Sir, as I was running after the French Pollavouſees, I loſt the uſe of my right eye; and, Sir, ſuppoſing this full-pot now to be Bocachica caſtle, there I ſtood while we were attacking it; and here it was, that I left my arm and leg at Cartagenah. — But what then — I don't think much at it, not I —I have gained honour and glory enough for an honeſt man—I know what it is to ſerve my country — and ſo here's his Majeſty King George's health, and all his family, and Old England for ever—and as to my limbs, why they're welcome to um, as welcome as I am to this tobacco of my own buying.

Page 36th

Yet he was ready, with a ſmall ſword, to give any private gentleman ſatisfaction—becauſe that was fighting upon honour, which no perſon of honour could refuſe—but fighting for one's country may be refuſed; becauſe you may have—or—or—or—or—or—&c. &c. Knott, unwilling that Old Chelſea ſhould win all the applauſe of the company, interrupted the ſcar-furrowed grenadier; obſerving, that a man might run as many riſques, be in as many dangers at home, as abroad; and to prove it, related his intrigues with ſeveral fine women.

Firſt, he recounted the hair breadth ſcapes to get Miſs Neatsfoot, the tripe-man's daughter off —how he ſcaled the back garret, how he knocked down the watchman, and how the town was obliged to him for bringing ſo accompliſhed a girl upon it—thus the Corporal went on. — It was I that gave that girl the firſt idea of acting. I uſt to tell her, how the firſt time ſhe got into grand keeping, ſhe muſt perſuade her friend to ſpeak to ſome of the managers, about letting her come upon the Stage; becauſe I know that's common — ay, and it's grown a ſcheme too among ſeveral gentlemen about town, to get [Page 38] rid of their women that way; for when a girl grows ſtale upon their hands, and they want to part with her genteely, without being a ſettlement out of pocket by her; why then theſe gentlemen, will call on one or other of the managers, and ſo, in a ſort of half-aſking favourway, they will tell the proprietor, that there is a fine woman of their acquaintance, who they know will be of ſervice in the Play-houſe; and taking the patentee by the hand, the'll ſay— come ſet the girl down in the liſt, pon honner I ſhall take it immenſely kind, I know you won't refuſe me, what's forty or fifty ſhillings a week out of your pocket; beſides, I am ſure ſhe'll earn it. And this is the way that we have women of the town belonging to the Theatres.

Then, continued the Corporal, there was Bett Filbert, ſhe was the beſt dreſt fruit girl about St. James's market—I beat the reforming raſcals for her — no woman of quality, though ſhe had ever ſo fine a ſilk ſtocking, and diamond ſhoe-buckle on, could ſhow a neater leg and foot then Bett's was, with her ſilver claſps, red clocks, and pinned up petticoats; and as to an elegant and polite manner of doing things; who ever opened oyſters with more affability then Bett? or made a hot-pot with more taſte then ſhe did?

Then there was Waſte Butt, the publican's widow, I ſpent about five and forty pounds of her money, only ſhe grew too fond; and when once a woman begins to behave ſo its fulſome, and what no man of true delicacy can bear; I was obliged, therefore, to leave her, and got cherry-cheeked Judy, that uſed to liſp at Buckingham-gate, can o'milk, Sir?—I was private then, [Page 39] my officer made me a corporal for her — I a'nt the firſt gentleman, I ſuppoſe, who has made his fortune by women, nor come to preferment, by giving up his miſtreſs.

Winterneſs, Who had ſat chewing the cud of diſappointment, to be cut off in the concatenation of all his glorious recitals, and by a ſmockfaced boy too, as he muttered to me; roſe up, like Ajax, boiling with rage, and caſting his eyes upon the Corporal, he burſt out with, Why then, Sir, I muſt tell you—that a man of honour, Sir — ſtriking his fiſt at the ſame time againſt his waiſtcoat breaſt buttons, a man of honour, Sir, would as ſoon ſell his king as his miſtreſs. — A ſoldier, let me tell you, Sir, would as ſoon deſert from his poſt, or run away from his colours, as give his girl up — I have been among the beauties in my time, Sir—but before I would ſurrender my woman to a general officer's ſummons, I'd be drummed out of the regiment for cowardice; and as to advancement, I have got Chelſea honeſtly — I never won preferment by pimping.
Corporal. D'ye call me pimp, Sir?

This diſpute would certainly have grown ſerious, had not the Editor of this work ſtarted up between them—whiſpered Knott, that he ſaw a fine girl paſs by the ſaſh window, and give the Corporal a beckon; away ſkipped Knott, and I begg'd old Winterneſs to be pacified; and that I would bring him half a pound of the beſt pigtail next ſunday.

This pleaſed the veteran, he ſhook the Editor heartily by the hand, promiſed him never to mind any more fools for the future; ſwore, when he dyed he would leave me all his papers, if I [Page 40] would promiſe him to write the hiſtory of an old ſoldier.

It is neceſſary we ſhould return to the other perſonages of our dramatical copper-plate hiſtory; and conſider to what purpoſe Corporal Knott was introduced into this narration; with regret I record it, but Madam Llwhyddwhuydd, for all her reſolutions, fell in love with him.

Sometimes a lady's vows, like French treaties, are not to be relied on—they are like haſty made acts of parliament, which the cunning of conv [...]niency can always find means to evade. —Beſides, when love is in the caſe; nay, when money, for love and money are like a principle in mechanics, which acts equal and contrary. Love is equal in its power of action to money, but contrary in its effects; for as money will make perſons blind to every thing, but their own intereſt; love will make perſons ſee every thing, but their own intereſt. And with this mechanical, metaphyſical, tritical, critical, and analytical diſquiſition, proper it is to finiſh this ſcene of the drama.

1.2.4. The CHOICE SPIRITS FARCE.

There is ſomewhat vaſtly ſignificant, not only in the reputation of being a ſoldier, but alſo in a ſoldier's reputation; which made Madam Llwhyddwhuydd, as ſoon as ever the Corporal came with his billet to her houſe, regard him with an eye of complacency.

Page 41.

The Corporal conceived a moſt violent inclination for her, from the moment he was convinced her huſband was a monied man, and that ſhe bore the purſe.

He immediately opened his trenches with a love ſpeech, made regular approaches, by ſqueezing her hand; planted his battery of ogles againſt her; and quickly found he had a friend in the garriſon, which determined him to make one general aſſault, by a billet doux, that he reſolved ſhould be in the moſt elegant manner; and concluded to have a ſong wrote upon her.

He enquired among the Choice Spirits, who then held their meetings, like the primitive chriſtians, by ſtealth, the reforming conſtables carrying on terrible proſecutions againſt them; he found them at the cat and bagpipe, in Roſemary-lane, after declaring, upon honour, he was no informer; and owning his buſineſs; he was inducted to the preſident, whom you ſee in the print, one George Alexander Stevens, and who was recommended to the Corporal as a ſong-writer.

Stevens received ſix-pence from him as earneſt; for it was a rule, which the poets of that club had made, to always have half the money down; and the preſident declared he would write the ſong, as ſoon as ever the diſputation was over, which the gentleman's entrance had put a ſtop to.

The argument was warmly ſupported by the two altercators, Stevens and Harry Howard the [Page 42] aſs-man, concerning eſſential qualities. George inſiſted, the only acquiſitions, which could conſtitute human happineſs, were temperance, ſtability, and propriety of behaviour.—Harry, on the contrary, ſwore, that there were no accompliſhments worth a man's while to be maſter of, except good breeding, and a good education. This diſpute would have laſted much longer, had not a headborough opened the door, and producing a warrant againſt Harry Howard for ſcurrility, took away one ſide of the argument.

A ſheriff's officer would have carried off the other, he came there with a thief-take's dog fearful of a reſcue—but leaſt the thread of our hiſtory ſhould be ſnapped too ſoon, we ſhall turn over this cauſe and arreſt, to the chapter entitled the art of bail-taking, or—the—by—London—and Weſtminſter.

All gentlemen performers in the pen and ink way of ſong-making, muſt acknowledge it is extremely unlucky, when the lady's name, whoſe perſon they are to celebrate, won't make a proper rhime.

The number of pretty ballads which are ſung every ſummer ſeaſon, at all publick places of entertainment, would loſe one part of their merit, were it not for the name jingle, which ſo aptly terminates every ſtanza; ſuch as
  • Kitty Downs
  • And Zouns
  • Miſs Apple
  • And Couple
  • Polly Savage
  • And Cabbage
  • Love Miſs Harriot
  • And Judas Iſcariot

[Page 43] What then could a ſong-maker do with Llwhyddwhuydd? had he not cunningly ſupplied that defect, by verſifying her Creolian name Chloe; and fitted up ſo taſty a love-ſong for the Corporal, that Mr. Knott, taking the bard by the hand, ſwore, had he had any more money about him to ſignify, he would have made George a handſome preſent, over and above what he agreed with him for; however, the military man's ſpirit was ſo great, and he was ſo well pleaſed with the verſes, that he ſlipped the remaining change of ſix-pence into the poet's hand, which was all Knott had, after paying for a tankard of porter, the entrance fee, which every body ſubſcribed, according to the rules of the room, before they could be admitted honorary members.

The Editor of this undertaking cannot be ſo ingrateful, as to ſuffer ſuch a noble action of the Corporal's to ſlip, without taking proper notice of it.

To the moſt Noble, moſt Worthy, moſt — &c. &c. &c.

Ye great men of many manors, who at this preſent writing can chuſe your taverns, and pay a ready money reckoning for every dainty you call for; while I, twirling my mutton before an ill-ſupplied fire, am ſtretching the elaſticity of my invention, to its utmoſt pitch, how to obtain, upon credit, one ſingle beer and beer libation.—Oh, would ye but imitate this generous ſoldier's behaviour, and beſtow upon the artiſts, you employ, a premium for their merit. But artiſts, perhaps, would think themſelves happy, [Page 44] could they, inſtead of being paid overplus, only receive the prices they agreed for.

But laments are vain, the labourers of genius, and the lollers in a coach and ſix, are no more analogous, than politics and plain-dealing.

Honeſtly and bona ſide I ſpeak; if they do call me names, I can't help it; but ⅝ of all the rich people in England, were it not for their money, would have no more ſenſe, no more wit, no more taſte, no more generoſity, no more humanity, no more learning, no more affability, nor more of any more, mores, than we have, who are obliged to mind our books, to make the pot boil.

Yet writers, who pretend to ſatyriſe rich folks, are to blame; nor ſhould any pen and ink dealers call the expectants and dependants of wealthy men, who are known by the name of toad-eaters, to an account for their behaviour.

To be ſure, the members of the toad-eating club will give his honour vaſt applauſe, if his honour ſays but any thing bordering upon common ſenſe; and they will alſo lift up their hands and eyes, with theatrical aſtoniſhment, if her ladyſhip ſhould make an obſervation pertinent to the ſubject, and extol the vaſtneſs of their patron's capacities. Now I cannot ſee any flattery in all this; for it is wonderful, conſidering rich peoples education. The ductility of their tutors, the venality of their menials, and the libertiniſms they are indulged in; how they can ever ſay, think, or do any thing, to the purpoſe.

Heirs to great fortunes are born as well minded, very often, as the pooreſt tenant's child under them; but the underſtanding of the eldeſt [Page 45] hope of great families, is either totally neglected, or elſe cultivated in an improper manner.

The reaſon why men of genius are ſo ſeldom rewarded by men of fortune, is, becauſe men of fortune don't underſtand genius; therefore rich people are more proper objects for pity than ſatire. It is the want of having their minds juſtly improved by arts and ſciences, which makes them ſuch ſtrangers, to the happineſs of knowing what to do with their time.

To be a man of faſhion, they think, is the excellence of perfection; or they would not laviſh ſuch vaſt ſums for the encouragement of grooms, gamblers, proſtitutes and rare-ſhows; when ſo many works of public utility become abortive, and ſo many artiſts pine away for want of the hand of bounty, to bring them to life, for the ſervice of their country.

Is it not a ſhame, that in ſo noble a nation as England, renowned throughout the world for arts and arms, the major part of thoſe, who ſhould ſet a better example, only exhauſt themſelves and their fortunes, in an eternal round of viſits, cards, auctions, foreign fidlers, and ballad-ſingers.

As to ballad-ſingers and ballad-makers, the difference is trifling in regard of their merit; but the reward is not proportionable. This Stevens, to my knowledge, has wrote upwards of 200 ſongs, yet never was ſo well paid for any; nay, for all the reſt, as for that one he made the Corporal.

[Page 46]
Table 1. The POET'S BILL.
Received as earneſt for making a love ſong upon Madam Chloe, to conſiſt of four verſes 0 0 6
Paid the remainder of my demand as ſoon as I had finiſhed my work 0 0 6
Received overplus, or by way of premium 0 0 3
Sum total for Poetry 0 1 3

All the reſt of this man's ſongs, I am certain (the weight of paper excepted) would not now ſell for ſo much money.

For the entertainment of the curious, we inſert the verſes that Mr. Knott beſpoke, printed from the author's original copy.

And as this ſong comprehends all that has been, or can be comprehended, in the compoſition of love-ſong-writing, according to the method at preſent of the public garden poets; the Editor preſumes, this may ſerve as a pattern, or meaſure, for all future amorous ſtanza makers, to cut out their works by, who intend to write for the amuſements of the ſummer parties, that ſwarm from Ranelagh Rotunda, to the New Tunbridge.

[Page 47]
1.2.4.1. A New SONG.
Call'd CHLOE LLWHYDDWHUYDD. An lambic, Sapphic and Lyric,
1.2.4.1.1. STROPHE I.
DOWN the Parnaſſian heights I ſoar,
Upon Pegaſus' back my fancy I bore.
Bright Phoebus, with Apollo here, attend,
Be all ye Muſes nine the poet's friend,
A Poet, as I'll ſhow ye;
From France to Philadelphia's climes,
No haberdaſherer of rhimes,
Can boaſt a Toaſt like Chloe.
1.2.4.1.1.1. Notes on the firſt Verſe.
1.2.4.1.1.1.1. Soar and Bore.

Some people ſay; thoſe two lines are rather falſe grammar, and it ſhould be, that Pegaſus bore; but I ſay, whatever bad grammer they may be, they are good rhimes; and as Mr. Skeggs and Mr. Maſſy both obſerved, that is the moſt materialeſt thing in a ſong; becauſe there are very few ſingers now-a-days, who will let you know whether they ſing ſenſe or nonſenſe, So for that reaſon I never troubled my head with what I publiſhed in that reſpect.

H. H.

1.2.4.1.1.1.2. Phoebus and Apollo. [Page 48]

Phoebus ſignifies the ſun, according to the dictionary; and Apollo is ſaid to be the God of phyſic and poetry. So a perſon ſaid laſt night, that was the reaſon why rhime-writings were generally called drugs; and alſo, why a great deal of poetry was uſed in phyſical operations.

1.2.4.1.1.1.3. Philadelphia.

That word was put in, becauſe the lady was born in the Weſt Indies.

1.2.4.1.2. STANZA I.
She is not—yes, ſhe is compleat,
Her alablaſter, iv'ry teeth ſo neat;
Her eyes like ſtarry ſuns all hearts illume,
And Zephyrus whiſtling ſighs, her lips perfume;
Where is her marrow know ye?
Her cheeks are cochineel'd; her breaſts
Are Cupid's kettle-drums, and love's birds neſts,
That Venus builds for Chloe.
1.2.4.1.2.1. NOTES to the ſecond Verſe.
1.2.4.1.2.1.1. She is not.

The word not is a pun upon Corporal Knott's name. Your critics, that know no better, will call out about falſe ſpelling; but I never mind that, I can write ſongs for all them, or that either.

1.2.4.1.2.1.2. Alablaſter and Ivory. [Page 49]

Theſe words are two ſimiles, to deſcribe whitneſſes, and clearneſſes.

1.2.4.1.2.1.3. Like Starry Suns.

Poets may do what they will with nature, make ſtars ſuns, and ſuns ſtars; becauſe we have the poetica licentious for it.

1.2.4.1.2.1.4. Her Marrow.

That is a Yorkſhire word, and ſignifies an equal; or a perſon upon the ſame footing as yourſelf; introducing ſuch obſolete words, gives the poem a true paſtoral turn; and as it is intended to be ſung in an evening in the muſic loft, among the lamps and trees, it ought to have ſome out of town alluſions in it.

1.2.4.1.2.1.5. Her Cheeks Cochineel'd.

One of the beſt lines, the thought is mine, but it's wrong ſpelt, it ſhould be ſcutchineel'd; becauſe ſcutchineel is a better red than vermilion, and takes its name from the herald painters, firſt uſing it in painting ſcutcheons.

The ſimile of ſcutchineel alſo ſignifies, that as thoſe inſects are never uſed but after their death, ſo her cheeks would not loſe her colour until after ſhe is dead.

1.2.4.1.2.1.6. Cupid's Kettle-drums.

That's a double ontender, and love's birds-neſts another; and without ſuch things, a ſong [Page 50] won't fell. I told the author, I would etch him a head-piece to this ſong about the bird's neſt; becauſe, what ſells ſo well as ſmutty pictures now; eſpecially with a daſh of politics in them, and politics is eaſy brought in any how—truly Mr. George ſaid, he would not offend decency; then people are damnably deceived in you, thought I; but, as I told him, why George, ſays I, is there not a great many tradeſmen, freemen of the city of London, men well to paſs, and maſters of families, who are not aſhamed, to have their ſaſh-windows filled with bawdy, blackguard prints; and why ſhould you then trouble your head about it? I'll anſwer, we could get money by it, and as long as a man can but do that, and not go to Newgate, why it does not ſignify what he does; and as to decency, I deſpiſe it; for I have always got a good living (thank God) without it. However, George woud'nt conſent, ſo I ſet him down obſtinate.

1.2.4.1.3. STROPHE encore.
Tempeſts I'll tear up by the root,
Earthquakes I'll undermine to boot;
With the galaxy of the milky way,
Upon Jove's threſhold I'll at marbles play,
And ſtake my fair ſo ſhowy;
I'll dare the ſynagogue of gods,
And play or pay, I'll lay the odds,
That nothing ne'er beats Chloe.
1.2.4.1.3.1. NOTES to the third Verſe. [Page 51]
1.2.4.1.3.1.1. Tear up Tempeſts by the Root.

This is a figure in poety, ſignifying, that the earth ſhall pull her hair about her ears, in a paſſion. Trees are often ſaid to be, in ſong-writing, the locks of hair of the world's head.

1.2.4.1.3.1.2. To BOOT.

There's a fine word for a pun, and fine punc have been made about it, and now I don't care who knows it, but I have done more of thoſe pieces of wit, than any one elſe; they were all afraid; but I was like a true gameſter, I went nothing to ſomething. I knew I cou'dn't be worſe; and if they did take me up, I was ſure to be a great man, as long as I lived; becauſe I ſhould have ſuffered martyrdom, for my wit and humour.

1.2.4.1.3.1.3. Galaxy.

There is no ſuch a word, at leaſt not that I know off. I aſkt the author, and he told me, it was the moſaic pavement of Jupiter and Juno's gallery; but I was not to be hummed ſo; for what buſineſs has Moſes with Heathen Deities; not that I know any thing about religion; I would as ſoon make a ſong about Moſes, as I did about Zebra; if I could get as much money by it.

1.2.4.1.3.1.4. The Synagogue of Gods. [Page 52]

This ſignifies ſomething about parſin Whitfield, and his tabernacle-people, but what, the author won't tell me.

1.2.4.1.3.1.5. Play or Pay, lay the odds, Nothing never beats Chloe.

This is the true verbatum language, uſed by ſporting men, at all the meetings in England, Scotland, and Ireland.

1.2.4.1.4. STANZA encore.
When time's ſharp ſcythe mows down my breath,
Shall I not in my quick expiring death,
In tinkling rills her murmuring whiſpers hear,
While ſhe, like eccho ſobbing, ſighs, my dear,
Oh Corporal where go ye;
Revived; I'll ruſh into her arms,
And raviſh all her curling charms,
And charm my charming Chloe.
1.2.4.1.4.1. NOTES to the fourth Verſe.
1.2.4.1.4.1.1. Times Scythe mowing down his Breath,

Is a fine metaphor; and to be met with, or ſomething to the ſame purpoſe, in almoſt all the love ſongs for many years paſt.

1.2.4.1.4.1.2. Eccho ſobbing.

Becauſe eccho, Mr. Littleton in his dictionary ſays, ſhe ſighed herſelf into a conſumption.

1.2.4.1.4.1.3. Charm my charming Chloe. [Page 53]

That I will venture to ſay, is one of the moſt charming lines that I, or Shakeſpear, ever made. There was, as I have heard ſay, a critic once, a learned man, his name was Villager, or Scaliſher, or ſome ſuch a foreign phraſe; and he ſaid, that there was one of Horace's ſongs, which he had rather been the author of, than been a king without a rag on.—This is, as I ve heard the ſtory—and now I ſay, I did'nt care, if I could but have wrote that line, and charm my charming Chloe, if I was to be reduced to my former ſtate, and have nothing but rags on.

1.2.5. SCENE, the OVERTHROW.

Home haſted the Corporal with the copy of verſes, and gave them the lady wrapped up, as he received them from the author. She hurried into her own room with the pacquet, imagining it was ſome very pretty preſent; but when it was unwafered, and it appeared to be only a paper filled with written hand, which ſhe could not read one ſyllable, Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd ſuffered the moſt cruel agitation of ſpirits, that ever any lady was thrown into; who, by the ſudden whim of ſpouſe or papa, was prevented from being punctual to the moment of aſſignation.

She ſuppoſed the letter to be an appointment, the Corporal gone to the rendevouz, and had left her that, as a direction where to follow him. How did ſhe then lament her not being book-learned; ſhe fretted, ſighed, ſtamped, [Page 54] called on her ſtars, on the Corporal, and fate.

The maid, paſſing by the door, heard the outcry, run down to Mr. Knott, beckoning him into the back kitchen, aſked him what he had done to her miſtreſs; for that, as how her miſtreſs was in the moſt wonderful conſternation, about the Corporal, and what he had wrote in a paper.

Knott, who had been, Bajazet like, enjoying, though but in fancy, his ſcheme, and what an opinion his landlady muſt have of him, and how fine a fellow ſhe muſt think him; to be able to write ſo fine a ſong, was ſtruck as flat, with what the girl ſaid to him, as a new actor juſt hiſſed.

It occured to him, on the inſtant that the verſe-maker had hummed him; and, inſtead of the ſong he had paid for, had palmed ſome other paper, on purpoſe to make the lover look like a fool; and Knott muttered, damm theſe wits, they are always full of miſchief, eſpecially againſt their beſt friends; however, I'll break the raſcal's bones.

Unluckily for ſome parties, George, the ballad-compiler, then was paſſing along on the other ſide of the way, the military man had a view of him, and through the entry Knott burſt into the ſtreet after the ſcribbler.

Paſſion or anger will as effectually dazzle perſons eyes as intereſt. Mr. Knott, by rage, was ſo dim-ſighted, that, as he ſprung from the threſhold, he ſaw not a ſedan, which David and his partner were bearing by with a fair in it.

[Page 55] Againſt its ſide ruſhed the Corporal, and down came the chair, ſhattering upon the pavement. The glaſſes were ſmaſhed, the ſaſh frames ſhivered; and the ſoldier tumbling over the top of it, rowled into the channel, calling out, as he lay, oh, Stevens, I [...]ll do for you.

George Alexander, hearing a threatning voice, imagining it to be a bailiff's, ſtarted off, faſt as fear could wing his feet; and (like an expeditious fine porter, running to his duty) overſet every one who ſtood in his way.

The firſt perſon, who fell a victim to the velocity of the poet's fears, was Well-fleet Betty, ſtanding on the upper ſtep of a cook's cellar, with a baſket full of goods upon her head; one hand was reſted upon her hip, her elbow forming the point of an angle, and with the fingers and thumb of the other hand, ſhe was ſnapping defiance.

The bard took her in flank, ruſhing againſt her outſtanding elbow; the ſudden ſhock turned her half round, and backwards ſhe pitched into the cellar, juſt as Theo. Cibber's propertyman was bringing up twelve-pennyworth of ſoup and ox-cheek bouilli, for his maſter comedian's dinner.

Down ſouſed Betſy's head into the diſh, and her feet fell on each ſide of the young man's head, upon his ſhoulders; her weight returned him into the cellar; and the broken baking pan, the ox-cheek, the ſoup, and the oyſters, covered the floor.

Onward ſcampered George, overturning Haddock's waiter, who had a box full of jellies in his hands; then the ſong ſcribbler met parrellel to his breaſt a mop-handle, which a wench was [Page 56] twirling; his force flung it in a diagonal direction down; but the mop hit in its way the ſilkſtockin'd ſhins of a French dancing-maſter the blow brought Monſieur Capriole to the ground, he pitched upon his face, and his noſe was flattened againſt the pavement.

The perpetrator of this miſchief began to be ſcant of breath; and turning his head, as he ran, to ſee where his purſuers were, he threw down a ſalop ſtall.

The vender of that diet drink, had juſt ſerved a diſh to no leſs a chapman, than the little poet DERRICK, the doer of Dryden's works, who, not thinking of any thing, was very innocently cooling his ſaſſafras, when the groſs bodied bard, like a collier, running foul of a pleaſure boat, tumbled the ſmall ſized verſifier into the dirt.

The bulk of Mr. Derrick's muff, prevented him from being bruiſed; but the blade of his pinch-beck hilted rapier, ſnapped in the ſcabbard, and the ſpray of the ſalop, obliged the little gentleman to keep his bed, until the ſcowerer had repaired the damage his laced coat and waiſtcoat had ſuſtained.

Here the race ended; the author of all theſe ills, tumbling at the ſame time, was ſeized by the woman, to pay for what was broke, ſpoiled and ſpilt.

It is impoſſible to ſay, what might have been the event of George's being detained, ſince he always was inflicted, with that terrible malady, of non ſum ſolvendum; but Mr. MACKLIN the the actor came by, paid the coſt, and took Stevens home, promoting him to be his tutor.

Page 57th.

1.2.6. The COUCH SCENE.

The perſon who happened to be in the chair, when it was overturned, was the very drole SAM. FOOT, Eſq the greateſt mimic genius in England; who, after much ſhrieking and ſtruggling, roſe head and ſhoulders high, betwixt the broken frame of the chair-glaſs; his face all ſcratched, like a freſh blooded ghoſt, aſcending through the tragedy trap; on his countenance pallid fear ſat frightful; his livid lips quivered with terror; he begged help for God's ſake, and religiouſly reiterated his intreaties to the byſtanders.

He had not, at this time, exhibited publickly any of his extraordinaries; neither was he as yet determined, to what part of the arts and ſciences he ſhould devote himſelf.

It was to this adventure, and the advice of Miſs Shred, that the town has had the happineſs of being entertained with his Vis Oeuvres.

After he was delivered from the chair, and inducted into Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd's beſt one pair of ſtairs room. Miſs Shred, who ſaw from her chamber the accident, ran over to David's houſe, fearful, they had not politeneſs enough, to accomodate ſo brilliant dreſſed a perſon, as Mr. Foot.

Miſs Shred inſiſted, upon carrying up the baſon of water, and towel, to the gentleman. Mr. Foot received her with all that complaiſance, peculiar to himſelf; and aſſured her, both [Page 58] in French and Engliſh, that he was immenſely obliged to her.

Miſs SHRED. Sir, a perſon of your appearance demands the moſt polite reception; and, as I am conſcious, the people of this houſe, are too vulgar to uſe ſuch a perſon, as you are, as you ſhould be; therefore I left my own houſe, that I might pay a proper regard to one of your elegant appearance.
Mr. FOOT. Madam, you do me too much honour; to be ſure ma'am, I conceive the inhabitants of this porter-ſelling territory, to be the quinteſſence of vulgarity. My Ideas never before announced ſuch a contemptible ſet of reptiles, as thoſe creatures were, who helped me out of the chair: one ſhould not, they ſay, mock one's friends; but upon my ſoul, they were ſuch a collection of groteſques, that while they were doing me a great piece of ſervice, I could not help taking them off; and the fellow who ſeemed to have the moſt humanity about him, and was really very tender of me, ſquinted his compaſſion with two ſuch inverted eyes, ſaying—I hope your honour cant hurt, Sir.
Miſs SHRED. I vow, Sir, that look was vaſtly like him; but I am ſurpriſed, Sir, a gentleman of your accompliſhments, ſhould ſeem to heſitate, about taking off your friends; it is the extreme wit [Page 59] of the politeſt perſons; and which, Sir, you muſt know, and if you was not to do it, Sir, it would be a loſs to the world; for you know, Sir, each individual admires to have an acquaintance, nay, all their acquaintance, made ridiculous; and I am perſuaded, no perſon, can be more happy in that execution, than yourſelf.
Mr. FOOT. Madam, I am embarraſſed at this rencontre, with a lady of your conſummate penetration; indeed, madam, I have been flattered by my friends, with having an excellency, in taking off my intimates; and ſhall be proud, of a lady of your ſenſations, determining, concerning the merit of my abilities.

Immediately he went through the defects, misfortunes, and weakneſſes, of all his acquaintance with immenſe ſpirit; he took off Sir Harry's lady, as ſhe ſaid her prayers at church; mimicked her brother the judge, in his paſſing ſentence of death; ſhook his head as my lord's uncle did, who was paralytic from his infancy; walked limping like Sir William, who loſt part of his heel in a ſea-engagement; and then in the character of punch, preached a funeral ſermon, with ſuch vivacity, ſuch humour, and ſuch naivetie, that Miſs Shred became tranſported, backwards ſhe fell in raptures upon the couch, crying out bravo, bravo, bravo, my dear creature —

1.2.7. SCENE III.

[Page 60]
Miſs SHRED and SAM. FOOT.
Curtain up again.
Miſs SHRED. UPON my honour, Sammy, you have reduced me to the moſt extraordinary circumſtances, of not being able to look at a genleman without bluſhing; and, believe me, Sir, I never was guilty of ſuch an action before; but, as Richard ſays, for this among the reſt was I ordained.
Mr. FOOT. Madam, it is impoſſible for me to expreſs, how high an idea I entertain of a lady, poſſeſſed of ſuch a capability, as I find you miſtreſs of, therefore I can do no leſs, than dedicate myſelf to your ſervice.
Miſs SHRED. I accept your homage, dear Foot, and I give you my hand, which acts equal with my heart; and as I know your talents, are as extrordinary, as you are pleaſed to obſerve my capabilities are ſurpriſing, I will plan, and you ſhall execute, as I am conſcious my conceptions are perfectly pictureſque.

This it was, on which Mr. Foot laid the foundation of that grandeur, we have ſeveral times ſeen him ſo amazingly arrive at. To [Page 61] Miſs Shred he was obliged, for the hint of giving tea; by her he alſo was initiated into that ſpecies of wit and humour, with which, to this day, he continues, with ſo much originality, to entertain the town.

During this above-ſtairs converſation, David was buſied, in picking up his chair's fragments; the Corporal was upon foot purſuing the author; but the ſoldier met his officer at the turn of a ſtreet, who ordered him immediately to get ready, and ſet out next morning for Cornwall.

Knott, though he was alarmed at the command, knew his duty was to be ſilent, and obey.—But took his reſolutions accordingly; as he had been hitherto ſucceſsful in his ſchemes, with the fair ſex, and that his time was ſo ſhort, he went upon the hunt, for two of his comrades he could confide in.

This was the reaſon, that Madam Llwhyddwhydd did not ſee her lover all that day; although its certain, no lady ever more longed, that is, ſhe wanted to be ſatisfied, and no perſon, ſhe was ſure, or at leaſt ſhe thought herſelf ſure, and that fancy with many ladies, amounts to a certainty, that no body could ſatisfy her, ſo well, as the Corporal.

The damaged chair was ſent to be repaired; Mr. Foot and his lady took coach for a country jaunt. David, having nothing elſe to execiſe himſelf with, reſolved to walk into Wapping, to ſee his brother on board of ſhip.

His ſpouſe, who knew her huſband would not be at home, until four or five in the morning, began to be vaſtly uneaſy about the Corporal, who made it evening before he returned.

[Page 62] The gueſts withdrawn, the maid hurried to bed; juſt as the feeble watchman, whiſtling in his ſound, came by coughing out, pa-a-aaſt 11 o'clock—Mr. Knott, high in blood, ſtole (like Lothario) unheeded to his dear Llwhyddwhuydd's chamber, he found the lady looſe, unattired, warm,—I aſhamed to ſay it—but fuddled, abſolutely non compos; how it happened, as well as ſo melancholy an accident can bear relating, ſhall be diſcloſed.

That night the lady went up ſtairs, in charming ſpirits. Mr. Knott having received the wink of aſſignation, while he ſat below, drinking with his comrades. But alaſs, unhappy gentlewoman, reflecting perhaps too much, on what might very naturally happen, between her, and the Corporal; ſhe grew immoderately thirſty, in poetry we ſhould expreſs it, ſhe was burning with deſire.

By miſtake ſhe put a bottle of brandy to her mouth, which had, in the hurry, been put uncorked where the water-bottle uſed to ſtand. It was there placed by the maid, the miſtreſs's ſudden coming up, prevented the girl from any other ways diſpoſing it.

Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd's agitation of mind, rendered her incapable of judging the difference, until ſhe had ſwallowed ſo large a gulph; intoxication was the conſequence. By which the reader is deprived of one of thoſe luſcious deſcriptions, which are now looked upon in the novel way, the moſt eſſential embelliſhments for modern bookſelling.

Page 63.

Maſters under age, are ſuppoſed to have raw and indigeſted ideas; not being arrived at a proper taſte.

Elderly lovers have out-lived their's, therefore both muſt be alike fed, and their ſtrengthleſs appetites, tempted by inſubſtantial garniſh; not having power to reliſh manly food.

Mr. Knott, knowing by the orders he had received from the captain, there was no time to ſpare, took ſome pains to waken the lady; and having recovered her ſo well, as to acknowledge ſhe loved no man like the Corporal, he diſcovered to her how he was pinched for time; the lady, fearing to loſe her ſo very lately gained lover; the force of liquor, and power of the Corporal's arguments, altogether correſponding, made her conſent that very night to go off with him. The maid faſt aſleep in the garret, the drawer dead drunk in the cellar, and her huſband from home. She packed up all the plate, ready money, and her beſt cloaths; for that is an obſervation I have generally made, that ladies, who, by ſtealth, leave their huſbands, are determined that the loſs ſhall be as ſeverely felt, as the time they have to accompliſh their ſcheme will admit.

It was by the help of Mr. Knott's comrades, every article was brought ſafe to the Fly; in which the Corporal and his lady were conveyed, without one accident to Portſmouth; there the next morning, by the greateſt good luck, they found a ſloop going off for Plymouth, in [Page 64] which they embarked, and in four days landed there, then by eaſy journeys reached Cornwal; to which the Corporal's rout was directed.

Since we have conducted Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd ſo far, we'll let her reſt a little after her journey, and take a trip to London, to inquire what became of her huſband.

1.2.8. The DREAMING SCENE.

David returned home the next morning about two hours after his unfaithful lady's elopement; but too much filled with his evening's exceſs, to admit of any information, until ſnoring had evaporated ſome of thoſe fumes—but the phyſical account of SNORING, which was never before attempted, is proper to introduce here.

To the Sapientifical, Scientifical, Celeſtial Magazine-maker, ſelf-taught Philoſopher, Lecturer and Inſtrument-ſeller.

To the Venerable Antigallicaniſt and Balſam of Life vender.

To the moſt celebrated, moſt advertiſed, moſt graduated Ludgate-hill Licentiate.

And laſt, though not leaſt in character, To the Egregious, conſummate Doctor of all Doctoribuſes, the Eccentrical, Occuliſtical, moſt ſuperlative Egotiſt, Adventurer, and Chevalier, this Elaborate Eſſay is addreſſed.

[Page 65] SNORING ariſes from the ſuperabundancy of vapour, collected the preceding night, by drink and converſation, treaſured up in the ſtore-houſe, or magazine of the head.

The ſpirit of the liquor ſublimates through the valves, and ducts, from the ſtomach: and the froth, or Aerial parts of diſputes, obſervations, altercations and witticiſms, make their way, thro' the auricular glands or organs, at the ſame time, into the cellulae of the brain. Theſe puff-balls, thus collected, float about, until ſecretion (I beg, my friends of the faculty, you'll obſerve this) although it is out of the power of the College to account for animal ſecretion; ergo, all phyſick is upon undetermined principles. Yet I have aſſigned a ratio for the ſecretory officinal of dreams, which are theſe puff-balls; compoſed as before-mentioned; and lodged in the tenements of the pineal glands; juſt as infant maggots are houſed.

But when all the pia and dura mater apartments are filled, and not a ſingle idea, even for the good of ſelf, can be wedged in, there will remain great quantities of this windy effluvia, which the owner of the head has imbibed in the laſt day and night's exerciſe, which muſt be diſcharged, charged, before the proper diſpoſed imaginations can have room to act.

Therefore on a ſudden, faſt iſſue through thoſe wind-gates the noſtrils, the overplus of yeſterday's retailings, which can't be performed, before ſleep has, for ſome hours, ſet his draining engines at work; and that is the reaſon, why morning dreams are more to be relied upon, than thoſe before midnight. The violence with which this ſtream ruſhes forth, from the [Page 66] head, is the occaſion of that ſound, which is equal to the diameter of the diapaſon of—but the ſolution of that queſtion, concerning the mathematical proportion of major and minor ſemi-tones, betwixt ſnoring and other eructations, is ſent for a prize anſwer to the Lady's Diary, to which we refer the reader.

After David had ſlept about five hours, loud and ſound, the elaſtic coats of his brain began to exert their pulſations, and he dreamed a dream which forboded miſchief, as plain as any dream, ever repeated at breakfaſt, by the politeſt, prettieſt, and moſt ſenſible maid, wife, widow or miſtreſs, you enjoyed a morning's tête a tête with, or at leaſt, that you ſaid you did.

David did dream, as how, that the Tower of London was made of papier machée; and that the French intended to undermine all our coalpits, and ſo deſtroy the nurſery of our ſeamen.

Out of the ſeven or eight millions of Great Britain's inhabitants, one million we may reaſonably ſuppoſe will read this book; and that 900,000 of thoſe readers, delight in the interpretation of dreams; for their emolument, we ſhall explain this dream, viz. The Tower of London, being made of chewed paper, ſignified, that the affection of his wife, which he thought permanent, as the bulwarks which the mud and graſs of tower ditch ſemicirculates; was as inſubſtantial, as the incoherent ornaments of waſte paper: and the French, and the coal-pits meant, that a wicked enemy, ſhould undermine the navigation to his wife's heart.

At noon, next day, David waked, and with broad eyes found,—but by all rules of writing, an author, as well as a painter, is to [Page 67] allow his cuſtomers imagination, fair play, or game law; therefore this part of the ſcene ſhall be left to the reader's conception. How Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd looked; where he looked; what he ſaid, when he could ſpeak; and how long it was, before he returned to a capability of ſaying, or ſeeing, or doing any thing.

Suppoſe yourſelf, oh ſympathizing reader, in this afflicted huſband's ſituation; it is with ſome confuſion, that the Editor acknowledges himſelf, rather abrupt in pretending to place any buyer, or borrower of this volume, upon the footing of a chairman. All that we mean by begging the queſtion, is; moſt reverend, moſt honourable, or moſt handſome, Sir, or Madam, a poſſibility for what we call the fineſt perſon in England, when angry, to behave equal with the loweſt. To prove which, I ſhall make an extract from a book, called,

1.2.8.1. The Hiſtory of the human Mind.

The three eſtates, or different modes of the Soul's conſtitution, are denominated high-life, middle-life, and low-life.

Thoſe degrees, when put into a paſſion, act upon the ſame parallel; and as you may have ſeen Mr. Bayes's ſun, moon, and earth, dancing the hay; ſo it is with theſe; highlife ſhall be middle, middle ſhall be low, low high, and they ſometimes dance ſo much, and ſo long, that there is no diſtiction to be obſerved between them.

[Page 68] But this only happens, in very rare caſes' viz. in love, in anger, and in drunkenneſs.

Furthermore, it is ſaid in this Book, chap. 20, page 99. I wiſh, may it pleaſe your honour, that you would either look a little more into it, or ſuffer your eldeſt ſon, to be a little better acquainted with it; and I would bett a good name againſt great riches, and that's ten pounds to a crown, you know; that if thoſe perſonages, who can read it, would ſtudy it, not thumb and dog's ear a drole place or two; but go fairly, and honeſtly through it; they would be taught, to think worſe of themſelves, than they do at preſent; and thereby become better for the future.

There would every egotiſt diſcover, ‘That his conſequence was but conceit, and judgment merely opinion. That FLATTERY is the univerſal language. KNAVERY mankind's modus. Converſation quibbling. PUBLIC SPIRIT a riddle. FRIENSHIP a phantom; and SELF-INTEREST, grand ſignior.’

‘Good-breeding may be contaminated; and greatneſs put in an extreme fury, for ſuch trifling things, as an honeſt chairman, would be aſhamed to be out of temper about.’

‘And when the moſt polite are moſt angrily agitated, they may, and do often, ſwear, huff, kick, curſe, ſtrike, abuſe, break, and bellow, with ſuch violence, as if they were no more than a chairman; or any other ſuch illiberal beings. And I beg leave to obſerve, (for all what the heralds office alledge to the contrary) even her grace, although delicately dignified, may be horridly chagrin'd, if [Page 69] ſhe permits paſſion to gallop over the courſe with her.’

The unfortunate Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd, preſently ſwore himſelf out of breath, in hurrying backwards, and forwards, throughout the neighbourhood, to tell his ſad ſtory. Vowed many raſh vows, and ſaid many bad things. When his friends found his anger, was obliged, for want of freſh ſpirits, to ſubſide; and he was ſufficiently relaxed, to hear conſolation, they adminiſtered advice gratis. As all Engliſh people ought to do, one among another; the generality of my countrymen and women, are apt enough to beſtow their counſels, even unaſked, in all caſes,—none but phyſicians and lawyers making money of their words.

They ſell their advice, as Lapland witches do wind, only to make more miſchief.

His partner, begged him to be comforted; ſqueezing Mr. Llwhyddwhydd by the brawny part of his thumb; my dear David, don't hurt yourſelf any more, by grief. I don't doubt, but all will be well as ever; and your ſpouſe ſhall come home again; and there will be no harm done; and you will live hapyy, to the end of your days; and you muſt take example by your betters, and forget, and forgive, as the Bible ſays.

This ſpeech, gave David great cauſe of contemplation; and after he was in bed that night, thus he ſoliloquiſed.

In the name of God, and St. David, can I ever, in honour, have my wife home again? Am I not an ancient Briton? Where then muſt I put my honour? Is not my honour, the ſeat of my heart? and has ſhe not given away her [Page 70] honour? and would ſhe come home, and take away my honour too? now that damm dog of a ſoger, has laid hold of her honour for himſelf,—more ſhame for him; that any of King George's men ſhould not have honour of their own.

Not being able to ſleep, he went to his library; and looking over the index of his magazines, among thoſe curious receptacles of the atoms of univerſal learning, he found the following eſſay, concerning

1.2.8.1. HONOUR.
‘There is no KINGDOM, STATE, PRINCIPALITY, PENINSULA, CONTINENT, ISTHMUS*, METROPOLIS, CITY, SUBURBS, or ENVIRONS, in or out of Chriſtendom, poſſeſſes ſo much honour as the town of London,’

Nor by the root of St. David's leek (Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd called out) no man in London has more honour than myſelf.

To prove that London is the plenum of honour, what man or woman can you meet with, that will not declare themſelves to be people of honour? who can you converſe with, that will not aſſure you, upon their honour?

[Page 71] The Turks, cannot be ſuch civiliſed perſons, as chriſtians. Therefore have no idea of honour; and are ſtrangers to duelling; that cuſtom of killing, is only practiſed where the goſpel is taught.

However, the mahometans have great honeſty, in reſpect of their meum and tuum dealings. But that method of merchandizing, is no more than an abſolute ſentiment, which might do well enough for the moral law, but the ſtatutes, and practices of the European courts, being by revealed religion more enlightened; ſuch infidels as Turks and heathens, by not having the advantages we chriſtians have, can never act ſo upright as we do.

Laws, honour, equity, and honeſty, being refined, are to be conſidered—but we refer the reader, for a proper explication of thoſe matters, to our notes, upon the Athanaſian creed.

In Italy, Spain, and Portugal, the natives are extremely tenacious of their honour; as they are alſo of their religion; the two moſt noble practices of the ſoul.

They are perſons of ſuperior honour, and religion, to the reſt of Chriſtendom; which accounts, why ſo many people are poiſoned, aſſaſſinated, and put into the inquiſition, in thoſe countries, more than any others. It is all done, as that very pains-taking Mr. Henriques obſerves, to GLORIFY GOD, and for their own honour.

The French, are not much bigotted to matrimonial honour; but they have very romantic ideas of glory, and imagine, that [Page 72] glory is preferable to limbs, health, life, and even the profits of a 25 per cent. uſury.

Nay, ſo prone are our Engliſh people, to follow French faſhions, that we have adopted this mode; and ſuch is the common characteriſtic of our country, to improve upon every invention, that a great many of our Britons have carried this glory much farther than ever the French dared; they had a very fair trial for it lately; and, in ſpite of pol [...]tical jockeyſhip; and though we were obliged ſometimes to ſhift ſaddles, and ſometimes we could not go as we would; yet we always came in for the ſweep-ſtakes.

This was not ſatisfactory to Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd; he did not underſtand any thing about glory; all his care was about his honour, and not meeting with an explanatory account, in any of his volumes, he aroſe next morning, to conſult an old acquaintance, and country woman of his, and one of the wiſeſt people ever born; for ſhe was deſcended in a direct line, from the child, that Queen Sheba had by King Solomon. Though ſhe could not prove herſelf of one of the moſt ancient families; yet, for the greatneſs of her underſtanding, the defect of birth was overlooked; and ſhe was made overſeer of the weeders, to a Welch gardener's at Lambeth.

During the time of Mr. David's walking to Mr. Winifred ap Shingle, and to make an end of this ſcene of our drama, give me leave, by way of tag, to tell you an old ſtory about honour.

I do not doubt, but you may have read it in every jeſt book; I own the ſtory is old, — yet, like a true commentator, I quote the ancient things, to exhibit the antiquity of my reading.

[Page 73] MAGRAH MONAGHAN of Connaught, dined one day, with TERENCF O HARA, in the queen's county; Monaghan was every inch of him a gentleman, and ſcorned to do a dirty thing. But as neceſſity, and honour, are ever at ſee-ſaw, with all gentlemen of no fortunes, it happened at that inſtant, Need was uppermoſt, and gave an impelling, or propelling, quality to ſome of Mr. Magrah's muſcles.

Aſtronomers are not yet clear enough in their accounts, for us to aſcertain which it was, of the occult qualities, innate to bodies, that occaſioned a ſilver ſpoon, before grace after meat was ſaid, to gravitate into Mr. Magrah Monaghan's pocket. The thing was miſſed, and his hoſt (very mildly) taking his gueſt aſide, whiſpered him.

My dear Mac, will you be telling me any thing of the ſpoon?

MAC. Is it me you mean? the Devil burn me into tinder aſhes, Terence, if I know no more of the ſpoon, than St. Patrick.
TERENCE. Well, but don't you, at all, at all?
MAC. Why, then, by the contents of this — (catching up the muſtard pot) I don't. Would you be thinking, I'd be telling you a LYE?
[Page 74] TERENCE. But, upon YOUR HONOUR, don't you?
MAC. MY HONOUR!—By Jaſus, there's (taking the ſpoon from his pocket) the vagabond ſpoon again; and I'll tell you one thing, Terence, and that an't two; I wouldn't forfeit my honour, for all the ſpoons in the whole country of Chriſtendom.

1.3. ACT II.

1.3.1. SCENE IV:

Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd and Winifred ap Shingle.

DAVID Llwhyddwhuydd went over Weſtminſter-bridge, to conſult Madam Winifred ap Shingle.

After the proper ceremonials were adjuſted, of who ſhould ſet down firſt, what ſort of a day it was, and every other polite phraſe, which is uſed among the moſt delicate, as an introduction to more intereſting converſation. David acquainted Winifred with his misfortune, and with his partner's ſaying, he ſhould have his wife home again; and how, continued Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd, can I do that with honour? [Page 75] for I do aſſure you, Winifred, that man is not worthy to carry a pair of ſtraps upon his ſhoulders, who is not a man of honour. For a chairman, when his honour is gone, is no more than a hackney-coachman, or a waggoner, or any other of thoſe horſe-driving raſcals. — How then can I receive my wife again?—oh, Winifred, you don't know what a fine creature ſhe was.—To be ſure her neck was as white, as a damaſk napkin—and the beſt people in the neighbourhood, did uſe to ſend to by her pickles,—and her cheeks were as red, indeed as my new ſcarlet breeches,—and ſuch a hand — ay, and for a pancake, Winifred, look you—well, God bleſs her Majeſty, and all the ladies of honour, but they could not toſs one better, to be ſure. — Damm Ochee, I will be the death of that damn'd dog, corporal ſcoundrel.—It was love-powder, which he did give her; and he ſhall be taken up, for poiſoning my wife, as ſure as Sir Watkins is a gentleman.

WINIFRED. You come to me for advice, David, look you, indeed, and do ſpeak all yourſelf—but you ſhall hear now in God's name,—upon which ſhe put her band before his mouth, and bawled in his ear,—you muſt take your wife again.

He ſtarted from the chair, his ſhoulders ſtriking againſt Mrs. Shingle's chin, caſt her backwards into a waſhing-tub, where ſhe lay head and knees bent together; her legs hanging over the edge, while he, regardleſs of his countrywoman's condition, ſwore a horrid oath, with as much ſolemnity, as ever the fineſt gentleman [Page 76] gave himſelf to the devil, at a hazard-table; but ſtamping at that moment on poor Winifred's cat Grimalkin fixed her teeth and claws ſo furious in his leg, that he ſhrieked, he run about the room, he cried murder, over the tub he tumbled, regardleſs where he was, or what became of wi [...]e, Winifred, or all the world, but himſelf.

So true is what was ſaid by the firſt philoſopher before the flood, and has been annually obſerved by all Philoſophers, Play-writers, Annotators, and Eſſayiſts, that It is natural for our own ſufferings to overbalance all other conſiderations.

1.3.2. The ſame SCENE continued.

David and Winifred ſeated as at firſt.
WINIFRED. Look you, David, be quiet, I tell you; you did not hurt me much; what I have put to your leg will cure it; ſo drink up your porter, and I will fetch another quart.
Exit.

Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd, when ſhe was gone, began to be in doubt, whether he ſhould, or ſhould not, pull off the piece of black-ſticking plaiſter, that the dame had applied to his leg, for the bite. He wasn't ſure, it was the Courtſticking-plaiſter; becauſe, as he was a chairman, who had been brought up at St. James's, he would not have any thing, as he told her, touch him, made at any of the vulgars houſes in her neighbourhood; becauſe, as he was a gentleman born, and got his living among quality, therefore he would ſooner, he ſaid, have his leg [Page 77] ſwell to the bone, than any low-lifed medicine ſhould come near his fleſh.

Imitating herein, that nobleneſs of ſpirits, which all thoſe moſt reſpectable—but I am interrupted.

Enter ſecond quart of porter, and Mrs. Shingle.
WINIFRED SWINGLE. Now, David, I will have you be eaſy, hear reaſon, and not fly into any more paſſions; nor don't ſwear againſt your wife, for, to be ſure, a finer woman —
DAVID. Never was a finer woman, to be ſure.—So is my loſs the more; I ſhall love her to my dying day; but ſhe has robbed me, and run away herſelf into the bargain; and where is her honour now?
WINIFRED. Don't you talk ſo much about honour now; I deſire, and require of you, for if you would be a good chriſtian, you muſt forget, and forgive; for what, pray, doth the Scripture ſay about honour?—not much; and pray what do the people of honour ſay about the Scripture? why not much. So you need not ſo much mind honour, if you will but be a good chriſtian.
DAVID. But then the Devil ſhall be a good chriſtian for me — God forgive us—but how can I, ap [Page 78] Shingle, how can I bear to lye by her ſide now; pray, will there be any chriſtanity in that?
WINIFRED. Silence, I tell you, David. You ſhall hear what I will read to you; it is our teacher's ſermon, which he did ſay at the Tabernacle laſt Sunday, about forgiveneſs, and chriſtianity, and women, and our backſlidings; ſo pray, David, mind.
Reads, Putting on her ſpectacles.
1.3.2.1. The JUSTIFYING EJACULATION.

I ſay unto you, my beloved, that when the ſpirit agitateth the fleſh, it is a ſpiritual act; but when the fleſh motioneth the ſpirit, it is a carnal one. And this is the difference, between GRACE and DISGRACE.

For worldly things, unleſs ſanctification ſeeths them, are no more than kitchen ſtuff; which the ſcum of our ſins maketh, in boiling over, and that is put into the offal pot of repentance.

Therefore, the ſaints of the Tabernacle, being clarified by the juſtification of the new birth, are pure Chriſtian ſuet; which, when mixed with the plumbs of the righteous, make up the pudding of glorification.

Winifred
Speaks.
O ſweet Abraham, what heavenly language is this: don't go to ſleep, David, I deſire of [Page 79] you; how can you be worſe than a heathen, and not liſten to this ſweet ſoul-ſaving ſpeech.
Reads again,
The pudding of glorification—therefore I ſay, that we may mingle the ſpirit with the fleſh, even as potatoes and butter-milk make ſtirrabout; for that is the type of the carnalities, and ſpiritualities. So I ſay [wiping her ſpectacles,] it is not ſinful to conſider the uprightneſs of the fleſh, as directed by the ſpirit; becauſe we may receive the ſpirit at home, or in the fields, or in an alley, or in a centry-box; and I'll ſtand centry among you; and if you have faith, you ſhall raiſe the dead to life. I won't be a velvet-mouth'd preacher, like your church doctors, and book learned blockheads. —no—no—no—oh—oh,—can a boy fly a kite without thinking of the clouds? can a woman ſpread her fan, without thinking of an angel's wings? Therefore, I ſay, that the natural man is not the ſpiritual man. Yet the ſpiritual man may think of natural things. So thoſe things are to be put forward, which are to ſatisfy the longings of the ſoul; and tho' at firſt it may be painful to undergo them.

At that inſtant, the tankard from the hand of Mr. David, fell to the ground; the good man, overcome with the two quarts of porter, the keeping all night awake, reflecting upon his honour, and the potency of the preacher's arguments, dropped faſt aſleep. Which, when Mrs. Winifred obſerved, ſhe ſighed, and ſaid he was a loſt ſoul, waked him; and after ſome time ſpent between them, in ſettling the terms, [Page 80] ſhe went home with David, to be his houſekeeper.

1.3.3. SCENE PLYMOUTH.

Madam Llwhyddwhuydd, Corporal Knott, Mountebank Doctor, Duel, Merry Andrew, Cheating at Cards, and News-papers.

THE Corporal, by this time, and his lady, began to view one another in not that rapturous point of ſight, as at firſt. All the plate, and ready money, which ſhe had taken with her, was expended; for Mr. Knott, had too much of the fine gentleman in him, not to be fond of play; and too good an opinion of himſelf, to fancy any perſon could take him in; but after the money was all gone, his eyes were opened, and he determined to commence gambler himſelf.

At his quarters lodged a Mountebank and his man. The Merry Andrew was a maſter of arts in ſporting; he could bend, ſlip, ſhade, ſpur, feather-edge, work a brief, knew ſhorts and longs, the high and low games at put, the three ſhuffles of whiſt, upper and under palm, opening a pack, or rounding dice, with all the ſecures, the bars, loads, ringing of changes, &c. &c. &c.

But he, having then an occaſion for a partner, becauſe he wanted to take his maſter in for a ſum; and as all ſporting men act beſt by confederacy, the Corporal and Pickle Herring entered into a family compact.

Mean while poor Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd daily ſat diſconſolate at home, never ſeeing her gallant, [Page 81] but when he reel'd to bed, incapable of behaving to her like a gentleman.

I wiſh, ſome ladies of my acquaintance, with whom it is at this moment a toſs up, between inclination and intereſt, would read this part of my book carefully; and they would know, notwithſtanding, modern memoirs mention whiſpering Zephyrs, eternal conſtancy, love-lane aſſignations, breath-ſtopped kiſſes, midnight moon-ſhine, a charming fellow, and the poſt chaiſe door open,—that according to the undoubted teſtimonials of ſeveral maiden gentle-women, who, by heart-felt experience, vow, a lady is worſe cooped up, who goes off with her gallant, than the moſt domeſtic wife, that undergoes the drudgery of the nurſery, and kitchen.

Let us only example Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd. She had no perſon to viſit her, was viſited by no perſon, obliged, from having a houſe of her own, to put up with a mean, ready furniſhed lodging; in which, ſitting all day ſolitary,—for believe me, dear ladie, the fine fellow of your fancy, ſoon grows ſick of his ſweatmeats, and every fond couple, who leave honour, family and ALL for love, having then nothing but love to live upon, ſoon eat up their allowance.

Think ladies, what Mr. David's wife ſuffered; who, like all other eloping ladies, had truſted the gallant with all, and dreaded to aſk him for a ſingle ſhilling, leſt he ſhould think her extravagant; denying herſelf neceſſaries, becauſe he ſhould not grumble at expence How melancholy her caſe; no companions, but her own thoughts, reflecting and comparing paſt, with preſent times; her former reſpect, her preſent [Page 82] infamy,—her huſband's tenderneſs, his repeated tenderneſs; her gallant's coldneſs, his continued indifference.

It is not, I hope, ſo bad with every lovely lady errantreſs. Yet many of them have experienced,—don't ſigh, dear creatures;—I know its a melancholy ſcene, and in the cataſtrophe ſtill more vexatious; becauſe the reaſon which ſome ladies alledge, for running away from their guardians or parents, is, the unbearable uſage, which they receive at home, therefore apply to gallants, in hopes of mending their condition, as flying fiſh ſpring out of the ſea to avoid the Dolphin, and tumble into the jaws of the ſhark.

Yet as the moſt time-ſerving-ſcribbler ſubſcribes himſelf, at the bottom of a dedication, to his right honourable patron; as the tradeſman bows, bill in hand, to his honour, with parallel awe, I addreſs the ladies, and aſſure them, that my opinion of their magnanimity, will not ſuffer me to imagine, any thing here ſaid, can alter what a fine woman has already reſolved upon.—No—ſpite of all advice or example, her ſpirits will carry her through, whatever her will gives the word for, let the conſequence be—no matter what.

David's ſpouſe had, for ſome time, been in a moſt uncomfortable ſtate. She felt the ſevere pinches of neceſſity, which are evident ſymptoms of repentance; daily, hourly did ſhe reproach herſelf, how ill ſhe had uſed her dear, dear huſband; how ill her gallant had uſed her; not a friend had ſhe to confide in, except the Merry Andrew above-mentioned; to him ſhe now and then diſcloſed her griefs; he proffered her all the aſſiſtance in his power; vowed he had a vaſt [Page 83] regard for her, and ſealed thoſe vows, upon her lips; juſt at the inſtant, the Corporal opened the door.

All in rage, Mr. Knott ruſhed on the tumbler, kicked him down ſtairs; b—d his lady, and vowed never again to bed her.

Indeed Mr. Knott was glad of an occaſion to break off the acquaintance; for he found it very heavy, ſupporting her out of his pay; and beſide, he had commenced another intrigue, with a lady who kept a raffle, who had agreed to go off with him.

The tumbler, all in a rage, for being uſed ſo by the Corporal; went inſtantly to his maſter, and diſcovered, that the night before, himſelf and the Corporal had cheated the doctor at cards, of fifteen pounds, four ſhillings; and told his maſter, that his conſcience would not let him keep it.

No one thing can hurt a lady, or gentleman, or any other two legged exiſtent, if there are any other perſons, in this kingdom, that are not either gentlemen or ladies, except ſome of the Opera Singers.—I ſay, and am ſure, nothing can hurt ſo much, as being made a fool, or a tool, unleſs ſelf-intereſt orders it ſo to be.—then, indeed, as A—B—C—D—E—and—&c. obſerved, it is proper to appear in taſte.

But to be a tool, and be out of pocket by it,—Seneca, at the head of his ſtoical regiment of Old Buffs, could not bear it.

And as the doctor, like all other doctors, wore a ſword (which, I believe, the faculty at firſt bore emblematically, to denote an aptitude to kill) after a conſultation, with his Merry Andrew, [Page 84] he determined upon having his money, and ſent Mr. Knott the following letter.

SIR,

I Ham by my purfeſhon, as will as you, a gentleman; becauſe, as your a ſoger, ſo am I a doctur of fyſick. I did not think ani gentleman wode ave taken away mi moni clandeſtenly, that is rank burgularly, and wors then robbing upon the hi way.

However, Sir, I ſuppoſe your a gentleman, for all that; ſo I deſir, you'l gi me ſatiſsfakſhon, and ſend me my moni agin, or mete me with your ſword at nine o'clock to nite, in the ditch by the cloiſters, it will be moon-light, and we can ſee to kill one another.

Yours, Doctor JONES.

The Corporal received this note, as he ſat over a large bowl of punch, with two recruits juſt liſted. He was as brave, as Britiſh ſpirits could make him; and reading the letter, ſwore 'twas very well, he'd come; he would do every thing like a gentleman, and give every body ſatisfaction—but as to returning, or paying the money back, he was above it.—No, he was too much a man of honour, he ſwore, to be compelled, no, the ſword ſhould decide it.

All fluſh, all gallant was Mr. Knott, the drum beating, recruits ſinging, and bumpers going briſkly about.—Yet the contents of the letter, began like oil, to prevent the potency of [Page 85] the brandy punch, any longer ſublimating into the Corporal's head.

Not that he feared the doctor, or even death, the preſident and commander in chief of all doctors; but his honour was doubly concerned; he promiſed to meet a lady, a new lady, that night; and he would not break that appointment, for twenty doctors; but then, who would dare to ſay, Knott wou'd'nt fight? No body ſhould; he ſwore, and in order to keep his word and honour, with both parties, he laid his plan of operations accordingly.

The doctor, who was equally political, (in what a political age do we now live!) made this appointment by moon-light, becauſe his antagoniſt ſhould not diſcover, that he had a quire of white paper for a breaſt-plate, faſtened neatly under his ſhirt.

Each combatant, firmed in his ſafeguard ſcheme, went with the utmoſt intrepidity to the combat. Nobly, magnanimouſly they met. So when—no—come, all ye ſpirits, who have inſpired the belligerant powers, to firm fighting; and thou, whoever thou art, whether begot by Folly, or Madneſs, or both; thou AETHERNAL, who preſides over duels, ſuitable-ſpirit for ſuch a ſubject, inſpire me, to deſcribe the memorable behaviour, of thoſe truly paired belloniſts, who ſo intrepidly paraded upon the ſuppoſed-to-be-ſanguinary-ſpot; and then, ſo woundleſs,—ſo—ſo—ſo.—So have I ſeen — ay, reader, and ſo may you alſo have ſeen, as well as me, a great many things; but among all the ſhews, did you ever obſerve a ſlit deal figure, ſet up, on the top of a malt-houſe tunnel, or, as a ſcare-ſcrow in a garden, holding in each hand [Page 86] a wooden ſword; which, by the contrivance of the carpenter, and force of the wind, whirl'd its arms about, above, and below, acroſs, around, ſlaſhing, ſtriking, flouriſhing, in every prize-fighting direction, ingratefully thraſhing that air, which puts it in motion.

Thus is a duelliſt agitated, by honour, which is no more than air; a puff, a wind, a vapour.—Miſtake not the editor's meaning—he is only writing concerning the term honour, which urges, planet ſtruck people, to take the unneceſſary trouble of cutting one another's throats, when, as the madman obſerved, let but your enemies alone, and they'll dye of themſelves.

But duelliſts, like Jobſon at blindman's buff, lay about them, ſlap, daſh, north, eaſt, weſt, ſouth, on every point of the compaſs, becauſe this honour anſwers to all points, all make a point of honour.

It was one of honour's points, the money-getting point, which goaded the doctor to this honourable experiment, and which the Editor, would not have been ſo explicit in, had he not taken the trouble of viſiting tennis courts, billiard-rooms, horſe-race meetings, whiſt-clubs, ſkettle-grounds, hazard-tables, and nine hole alleys; and been aſſured from all parties there, that the doctor was right (in point of honour) to demand his money; and the Corporal was right (in point of honour) to refuſe returning it.

The place appointed for their meeting, was a very wide, dry trench, high mounded on each ſide, and open at each end, like that part of New Market turf, called the devil's ditch, and where, for the name ſake, all hereafter duels ſhould be decided.

[Page 87] They came to the, ſpot, juſt as the clock ſtruck nine, they drew their ſwords, and ſtood in quart and tierce attitudes, between four and five yards aſunder.

They flouriſhed their blades, on which the moon ſhine bright beaming, the glare ſtartled the heroes.

As veracity is the Editor's principle obſervance, throughout this treatiſe, it is neceſſary, to relate how two ſuch men could be brought to the ſcene of action, and draw their ſwords at each other.

The doctor was aſſured by his tumbler, that if he did but ſend a challenge, it would bring the Corporal to any terms, and he had nothing to do, but only go to the appointment, draw his ſword, and Knott would return the money.

After (by his man's advice) the letter was ſent, the mountebank began to have ſome qualms—he doubted, he was diſmayed, and as Mr. John Weſley, and Mr. John Weſley's coadjutors, have often declared, that Satan buffetted them about; even ſo was the doctor's tho [...]ghts toſſed, here and there, and not knowing what to make of himſelf, he reſolved to bumper it about until fighting time, to drive off even the idea of death.

Not that he way any ſtranger to that ſpectre; having employed him in as many ſhapes, as the doctor had patients; but he wanted not that fiend, to have any concerns with himſelf; therefore he drank to fortify his mind, and wore a ſtationary breaſt-plate, to barricade his noble parts.

The Corporal marched to the rendeſvouz, with a certainty of ſucceſs.—Firſt from his [Page 88] own conſequence, that the quack ſcoundrel dare not fight him; next, let it even come to the worſt, and he ſhould be obliged to draw his ſword,—Mr. Knott had planned ſuch a ſcheme,—and entirely by the ſcale, ſector, and true modern practiſe of duelling, which is, to acquire the vaſt, vaſt honour, of being a fighting man, and duelliſt, without running any dangerous riſque.

The Corporal's plot was, to wait for his antagoniſt, to make the firſt thurſt, then to fall backwards immediately, and bid the doctor make the beſt of his way off, becauſe that he himſelf was a dead man, the doctor having done for him.

Both thus ſecure in their ſafe-guards, ſtood firm—but at the diſtance before-mentioned; indeed it is proper, all quarrelling people ſhould ſo keep aſunder; their right arms were extended, ſword point-paralled to ſword point.

At laſt, the doctor being by drink, the moſt elevated, quavered out, ha, ha, and ſtamped his foot at the ſame time; but the unfaithful ſod, ſinking to his tread, brought his body forwards; deſtroyed the centre of gravity, and prone on his face he fell, without ſtretched arm and weapon.

The Corporal obſerved the glittering ſteel advance, backwards at that ſignal fell down, and with a great groan cried out—O I am done for—it's through and through me.—Doctor I forgive you—but make the beſt of your way off—for—oh—I am a dead man.

Terrified at theſe words, his antagoniſt reflecting on what it was to kill a man, and not according to the ſecundum artem ſtatute; crawled [Page 89] backwards on his hands and knees, crab like, out of the oppoſite end of the ditch. Leaving his ſword (as he ſuppoſed) ſticking in the Corporal's body; as ſoon as he got upon his feet, he ſcamper'd off, ſtrait forwards, not minding which road he took, all he thought of, at that time was, the hue and cry, which he fancied he heard very plainly behind him.

The Corporal, riſing by degrees, was ſoon ſatisfied of the ſucceſs of his ſcheme, and picking up the duplicate ſword, haſtened to his other rendeſvouz, and there he ſhewed his new lady the weapon, which he had brought away with him; telling Madam Raffle, ‘I was obliged to kick that ſcoundrel mountebank, my dear, and make him deliver up his ſword, here it is you ſee, for his inſolence, to pretend to dare to hint any thing againſt your reputation.’

In the beginning of every intrigue, fond beauty fancies all is goſpel, which her gallant ſpeaks.—Knott's new miſtreſs replied, ‘That to be ſure, I knowed as how, Mr. Corporal, you was a vaſtly brave man; and we will live and dy, and I'll go through the world with you.’—But the cataſtrophe of their loves hereafter.

We have now got rid of a pair of lovers, as dextrouſly as any play wright, who after cunningly bringing them together, gives the prompter a cue—wheu—wheu whiſtles Mr. Pimperlimpimp, the word giver, and the brace of woers are interſected from the audience, by the canvas landſcape, or ſize painted ſtreet ſcene; and the reſt of the comedy goes on as uſual.

When our laſt expreſs came away, the mountebank was on foot, terribly racing it along, [Page 90] panting and trembling,—the concluſion of his helter ſkelter flight we ſhall now relate under the Anti-comic title, of

1.3.3.1. The ORIGINALITY of GHOSTS; AND ANATOMY of PHANTOMS.

RONDOCOSTO KAMBE DANESSO, in his defence of praeter-naturals, ſub-naturals, and non-naturals, very wiſely tells us, that there are ſome very famous, and what is more, very great, and what is more, very rich people, who are undetermined whether ghoſts are apparitions, or apparitions ghoſts; whether death-watches, dreams, night-mares, witchcraft, falling-ſtars, ſcreech-owls and religion, have, or have not reality. To them the following exhibitory is recommended.

It is requeſted by the putter together of theſe luſitoriae, that all thoſe maxims, which relate to the analyſis, ſolution, and diſſection of phantoms, will be carefully ſtudied, by out of penſioned patriots; fourth and fifth couſins to quality, by all dependants upon great mens generoſity, or any man's gratitude.

* * * * * * * *

Who is it will diſintereſtedly pilot a genius, to the Cape of Good Hope?—I,—I,—I—I, will,—we all will,—every body will,—and body will take him on board, and be glad to ſail with him; for all the world will be fond of his company; who denys it? but pray, Sir, when the veſſel comes [Page 91] to port, who will help him out of the ſhip? who will pay the captain for his paſſage?

However diverting, during the voyage this drole fellow may have been, and whatever applauſes he may receive with invitations to every one's meſs, while on board, as ſoon as anchor is dropped, all is forgot. Every one then is hurrying home about their own buſineſs, adieu Mr. Genius—your ſervant, Mr. Genius—here Tom put theſe things behind the poſt-chaiſe; we are obliged to you for your good company, Mr. Genius, ſorry can't ſtay with you any longer—go on boy—a very diverting creature that man was, my lord—yes, anſwers the man of title; theſe wits and droles are very well for a gentleman to be entertained with, now and then at taverns, or on ſhipboard; but they ſhould not be taken any notice of publickly—for they are always poor—know nothing of the world, and are rather impertinent.

The deſerted genius, pennileſs, and a ſtranger, is left upon the beach, to make the beſt of his way, where he can.

We'll ſuppoſe him arrived in London, there he muſt either proſtitute his talents, in vindication of villany, or condeſcend to be Folly's Auditor, Pride's Flatterer, Pimp, Informer, or Beggar.

Merit in this metropolis having been condemned to periſh in the ſtreets, without benefit of clergy, had not Adulation perſuaded Preferment to hire the whole diſtreſſed family oſtentatiouſly; and now they are employed, by his Honour, as hay-makers, harveſt folks, hedgers, ſtable-ſweepers, errand-boys and turnſpits.

[Page 92] By this hyperbolical ſtile, the reader will obſerve, Hope and Promiſe are included in the diſſertation upon Phantoms.

This will be illuſtrated in the continuance of the quack's hiſtory, who we left upon foot, nor have we yet brought him to a ſtand-ſtill. Fright made him miſs his way, it was midnight before he reached the gates of his inn; they were barred, and every candle out in the neighbourhood.

Pleaſed to think all was ſo quiet, he reſolved to creep up the back way into the yard, get his money and cloaths out of his room, before daylight, and ſecrete himſelf among the miners.

Up a broken butterice, belonging to the garden, he ſcrambled, and got aſtride the wall; juſt as Tom the tapſter opened the garden-door, in his breeches, ſhirt and ſlippers.

The moon brightly ſhining at the mountebank's back, made a long black ſhadow upon the graſs-plat; which, moving before the ſervant's eyes, ſtopped him from ſtepping forward; his knees knocked together, his teeth chattered, his feet he drew ſoftly out of the ſlippers, and and ſidling barefooted, he ſlunk into a dark arbour at his left hand.

The medicine-monger was not a whit leſs terrified, at ſeeing a human figure in white; for the moon gave him full view of the tapſter. A croſs the wall he ſat aghaſt; he thrice attempted to ſay ſome prayers, but had none to ſay. He muttered the only religious ſentiment, which he knew, viz. grace after meat; ſaying, Lord make me thankful for what I have received—this over and over he repeated, holding himſelf on the [Page 93] wall by the help of his hands, as a ſailor fixes his fiſts upon the ſaddle pommel.

The doctor was confident he ſaw the Corporal's ghoſt; almoſt petrified with apprehenſion, he ſat there, and there would have ſat until morning, had not the ſtronger fear, leaſt the ghoſt ſhould be creeping along the ſide of the wall, to ſeize him, forced him from his place; and heaving himſelf up by his hands, he ſtraddling, throwed himſelf along the wall, on the ridge of the bricks, with his eyes all the time fixed on that ſpot, from whence the ghoſt had vaniſhed.

He reached the top of an old cow-houſe, and rolling himſelf upon it, his weight broke the boards, and betwixt two rafters he ſell, jammed midway; his weight forced him down, his bulk prevented his whole body to fall through; there he was wedged faſt by the waiſtband, and fancying all hell held him, he ſhrieked, roared, kicked, flung his arms about, and tumbled the looſened rotten planks over and over.

The poor drawer, hearing the dreadful outcries, ecchoed his ſhrieks, with ſhrieks more ſhrill, and run up the yard, calling out help, murder, fire, help, help.

The noiſe wakened every one in the inn except the landlord. Each ſtarted up terrified at the exclamation, confuſion, and affright ſeized them; from firſt, ſecond floors, and garrets; from down, feather, and flocks, all came, hurry ſcurry, like mob from the twelve-penny gallery.—Back to her own bed, Betty the chambermaid ſlipped, to put ſome things on, leaving her gallant, a London rider, ſhaking in a fear-raiſed argue fit.

[Page 94] The hoſteſs ſcudded from the ſerjeant of grenadiers, her eldeſt daughter, ſlipped out of the commanding officer's apartment, her youngeſt, down barefooted was brought trembling, upon the boot-catcher's back. All the reſt of the good company half dreſſed, aſſembled round the tapſter, who told them, there was a ſpirit playing the devil in the old cow-houſe.

By the tempting promiſe of two guineas, the three oſtlers and a ſtage-coachman were perſuaded to go armed with pitchforks, to find out this ghoſt, and the company, the female part, all went together, to get the reſt of their cloaths on; and the gentlemen the ſame; agreeing to meet in the large dining room to hear farther particulars. And Sir Greenfin Calipaſh, was to be ſeated in the grand chair, to take the examination.

While the gueſts were getting ready, all big with expectation, like the polite audiences in Cock-lane; a new noiſe alarmed them, an outcry, which was within the houſe, proceeding from the landlord, who having been put to bed very drunk, was by the continuation of the various noiſes waked; and parched with thirſt, bawled out loud as aſſes bray — ſome oat-ale, a tankard of oat-ale, and be—to ye.

After the tapſter and mountebank were brought up ſtairs, all the company in the houſe (the hoſt excepted) crowded into the room—all ſtood together promiſcuous; poſtilions, baronets, oſtlers, ladies, boot-catchers, ſquires, chambermaids, great heireſſes, cook-maids, &c. &c. For fear and ſelf-preſervation, abſorb all diſtinction in ſuch terrible times of danger, excepting that juſt then a lady, even of the moſt delicate principles, [Page 95] would prefer a porter to a pretty fellow for her partner.

Sir CALIPASH in the Chair.

The drawer depoſed he ſaw the ghoſt, and deſcribed it to be a black one.

The poiſoner of pariſhes gave in his evidence that it was a white one.

Dr. SINECURE, the learned profeſſor and connoiſſeur, begged leave to be heard upon that ſubject, concerning the ſeeming contradiction of depoſition, in reſpect of the colour of the ghoſt. And then he coughed, and then he hemmed, and then thus went on. I am conſcious, my moſt intelligent auditors, that I can clear this contradiction much to the ſatisfaction of the polite part of the aſſembly, I have now the honour to ſpeak before—becauſe—cough and hem again—I ſay, becauſe ladies and gentlemen, I have not only conſidered the nature of ghoſts philoſophically; but by every rule of preſpective, as far as is relative to the vaniſhing.—Have I, Sir Greenfin, your permiſſion to proceed? bowing low as he addreſſed the preſident, the preſident as low down bowing in return.

Upon which the profeſſor of univerſal connoiſſeurſhip in arts and ſciences, looking about him with much conſequence, coughed, hemmed, ſpit, wiped his mouth, ſmoothed his foretop, ſpread his ſtock, pulled his ruffles, and began.

Every ghoſt, every ghoſt, and every apparition, and every apparition as well as every ghoſt poſſeſſes in its own nature, two ſides or contraſuperficies; which are denominated philoſophically [Page 96] an opaque ſide and a lucid one—cough —now the two witneſſes being, as it were, fixed or placed at oppoſite angles, ſaw the oppoſite ſides of the ghoſt—for inſtance, the drawer who ſaw it a black ghoſt, had his rays of light abſorbed, by refrangibility of reflection, while the other had a view of the ghoſt, in his illuminated ſtate ariſing from refraction; becauſe the radiancy of the rays, ſtriking upon the retina, and this pellucidity of ſhade, is called by the painters, the CLEAR OBSCURE—cough, &c.

Thus therefore I form my hypotheſis—coughs —Suppoſe my left thumb to be A, my left little finger B, all my left hand C,—Hemhem—now therefore, I ſay, A plus, B; B minus, C, becauſe every perſon being capable of ſeeing a dark or a light, that is an opaque, or a lucid ſuperficies, or ſide belonging to my finger and thumb, not only according as I form it into an inclined plain, then the ſhades and lights fly off in tangents of obtuſe angles, or if that the object refracted is diametrically oppoſite in a horizontal parallel to the optic nerve; thus it was, one ſaw the apparition in a black or nigriferous point of ſight, and the other beheld it as a light, or illuminated appearance.—Cough, hem and ſpit.

Had I, my moſt ineffable auditors, had I my books and inſtruments here, I might perhaps have demonſtrated this more clearly.

Sir Tim. Dowgate replied, it was clear indeed, and he apprehended every ſyllable on't—vaſtly clear indeed, lady Dowgate anſwered; the doctor's a moſt amazing man of ſcience, and I am poſitive has more true learning than all Doctors Commons.—Indeed lady Hadit obſerved, nothing could have been delivered more [Page 97] clearly, and ſhe underſtood every word on't. So do I, ſo do I, its immenſely clear, vaſtly ſo replied all the polite heap, and agreed, that as a ſcholar, an artiſt, an orator, and connoiſſeur, Dr. Sinecure was quite the thing, and they were ſure on't.

The under-bred part of the aſſembly, allowed him to be a moſt wonderful man; and every one, gentle and ſimple, joined in praiſing loudly his late lecture, and great learning; and they agreed he had made it out ſo well, that they all underſtood it.

The doctor condeſcended to incline his head in a direction, between a bow and a nod, with the utmoſt pedagogick conſequence.

Then Sir Green fin Calipaſh ſtood up, and tucking his neckcloth ends under his garnet breaſt buckle, he begged leave to obſerve, that as he had always made the good of this nation his ſtudy, and would venture to ſay, that he knew both Old and New England's political conſtitution, as well as any one man in it. Yet he could not ſay, although he apprehended every thing doctor Sinecure had ſaid; yet he could not ſay he underſtood the meaning of theſe affairs about black and white ghoſts; becauſe, though he believed in ghoſts as much as any chriſtian could; yet why ſholud ghoſts be black or white either? why might they not as well be of any other colours?

Dr. SINECURE. Black and white are no colours. Black is an abſorbment, white an aggregate—hem—ghoſts cannot be of any colour—ergo—hem, hem, hem.
[Page 98] Sir GREENFIN. So then I ſuppoſe you would perſuade me, by that inuendo of ghoſts not being of any colour, that they can't be of any party, but I know better. I know that ghoſts are as liable to be in the French intereſt, as they are to be of ours; and that this may be a political ſtroke, either of our foreign or domeſtick enemies—may not the thief-takers and ghoſts have a fellow-feeling.
Lady HADIT.
Screaming out a laugh.
A fellow ſee—e—eling—oh, Sir Calipaſh, what an idea!—can ghoſts feel?
Enter Landlord in ſhirt and napkin night-cap.

Lady Hadit was the firſt who viewed him, and her ladyſhip gave a loud ſhriek, ſprung upon on the window-ſeat, and wrapped herſelf in the window-curtains.

Every one in the room, by this time, had a glance of the figure in white; all run helter ſkelter, overſetting benches, tables, chairs, ſtools, burrowing like rabbits underneath them, and hitting their heads againſt one another, ſtriving to hide themſelves.

Between Sir Greenfin's legs crept the landlady, which overſet the knight upon Sir Timothy Dowgate; who was hiding himſelf under his wife's petticoats, lady Dowgate's head and ſhoulder, buried at the ſame time beneath a card table.

[Page 99] Every perſon rowling topſy turvy one upon another, the furniture cracking—Dr. Sinecure, the chimney board being thrown down, had made there to cover, and Tom tapſter, and cook maid Nan, took to the ſame hiding-place.

The reader may recollect, that at the alarm of the ghoſts, the inn-keeper waking, parched with thurſt, bawled out for ſome oat ale; not any being brought, he determined to fetch ſome himſelf; and as it was the middle of ſummer, and he very hot, would not ſtay to put any cloaths on, but out of bed, hurried down, and ſeeing a light in the large one pair of ſtairs room, opened the door; and occaſioned the aforeſaid confuſion, wond'ring, he ſtood, and called out, I only want Tom tapſter—Oh Chriſt, cries Nanny, who ſtood with Tom in the chimney corner—a great groan came from doctor Sinecure, who was mounting by Tom's help, he began to work with his elbows to pull himſelf into the chimney.

Where is Tom tapſter? again the land lord called out—O Lord, again, ſhrieks out Nanny, and was running from him, although her old ſweetheart, and twice aſked in church; the waiter ſeizing her by her gown ſkirts, begged her for God's ſake not to leave him; the doctor was by this time ſtanding upon the tapſter's ſhoulders, ſtriving ſtill to mount higher. Let go my gown, for God's ſake Tom; thus Nanny began pitiouſly to requeſt her trembling lover; if you have any love for me, Tom, get away, leaſt the Devil fly away with us both.

LANDLORD. Where is tapſter Tom?
[Page 100] NANNY COOK. Here, here, Sir, and pleaſe your honour Mr. Devil, he's in the chimney place, ſquire; but dear, good gentleman, my lord Devil, I hope your honour won't take me along with him, for all he holds me faſt, good Mr. Devil, don't for God's ſake. Go Tom, go, go, now don't you hear how his worſhip calls you? The landlord began to be terrified—the word Devil being ſo often mentioned, had an effect upon his ſpirits, and he turned his head about to ſee where he could run to. When lady Hadit, who had been at bopeep behind her window-curtain, imagined ſhe could be certain, the figure in white muſt be fleſh and blood—more earneſtly looking, ſhe vowed ſhe could take her oath to its being a man; courageouſly left her pedeſtal and advancing, demanded, who are you?
LANDLORD. Me, Madam, pleaſe your ladyſhip, the landlord, my name's Jordan.
LANDLADY
from under Sir Greenfin.
It's the Devil in my huſband's ſhape, my lady, oh don't go near him.
LANDLORD. The Devil I believe has been in your ſhape ſeveral years, I am ſure—but I am the landlord, roy lady.
[Page 101] Lady HADIT. Sir, I take for granted, that you are fleſh and blood, and not a ſpirit; but if you are Satan, or Beelzebub, or any other of thoſe ſubterranean geniuſſes, which the vulgar world call the Devil; I preſume you are too polite to behave indelicately to perſons of quality.
LANDLORD. Indeed my lady, I'm no more a devil, than any other chriſtian body whatever, and I only want a little oat-ale, and that made me call Tom tapſter.

Coming, Sir, bawls the waiter, and down ſouſe on his poſteriors ſquaſhes Dr. Sinecure upon the hearth, and his teeth were looſened by the fall, for he ſtood upon Tom's ſhoulders, who bolted out in an inſtant; but over eager as he ſtooped to get out of the chimney, he beat his maſter down with his head.

The ſidelong attitude in which the landlord lay acroſs one of the benches, made lady Hadit burſt into a violent laugh; for it was, as her ladyſhip ſaid, ſuch a ſight—this mirth, and the preceding converſation, diſpelled the good company's fears; they raiſed themſelves by degrees, or elſe were helped up. Tom and landlord went down, and the reſt retired to their ſeparate apartments.

The landlady waited upon lady Hadit, and would have made an apology for her huſband's rudeneſs in ſtanding naked before her.

[Page 102] LADY HADIT. Not at all Mrs. Jordan, I beg you'll not mention it, pon my honour it was exceſſively drole —I dote upon ſuch things.
Mrs. JORDAN. Your ladyſhip's vaſtly good, to be ſure.
Lady HADIT. But my dear creature, Jordan, had you ſeer him fall down—my God—I though I ſhould have expired—ſuch a ſight.
Mrs. JORDAN. A wretched ſight, to be ſure, your ladyſhip—but then, I am obliged to put up with it. However, I am vaſtly glad, that as how, after my brute of a creature had been ſo miſchiefous, as one may ſay—I am happy that he could divert your ladyſhip. So I wiſh your Ladyſhip good night.
Exit.
Lady HADIT. Good night Mrs. Jordan—divert me;— my God! what wretches there are in this world
Sleeps.

1.3.4. Interlude between the ACTS, CALLED, The MISTERY REVEALED.
This is to ſatisfy all the Curioſi in England, Scotland and Ireland, concerning the Spiriting away of Miſs Canning.
And alſo of the Cock-Lane, Miſs Fanny's Spirit.

[Page 103]

THESE were phenomena of ſuch vaſt conſequence to the public, that all the people in London, intereſted themſelves ſtrongly either on one ſide, or the other. The cauſe of theſe tranſactions muſt have remained a ſecret, had it not been for this publication; which is authenticated beyond doubt, or even beyond contradiction, for my brother has made his affidavit about it, and gave me his papers; and from thoſe papers, for the ſatisfaction of the town and country, and in my brother's own words too, I ſhall inſert it, as he ſwore to its veracity before the worſhipful the whole bench of juſtices.

1.3.4.1. The Journal of M. TRIP.

I William Trip, mate of the Concord tranſport, captain Robert Farding, of Lynn Regis, maſter, do declare, that as we were coming from Liſbon, June 7, 1759; it happened to be my watch upon deck, I ſaw a bean cod overſet in [Page 104] our ſhip's wake, juſt as we were coming out of the Tagus.

We having not taking in our boat, I got down abaft, caſt off the painter, and ſkulled away, to pick up a perſon I ſaw floating, and brought him on board our veſſel.

The gentleman whom I got out of the water happened to be a Roman Catholic parſon, one whom they call in their lingo a Jeſuit, and who had got out of Portugal by ſtealth.

He was very ill while he was on board us, and I tended him. So one day, as we lay off the Wight, he ſent to ſpeak with me; and when I came, he deſired me to ſit down by him, and hear ſometing he had to ſay to me.

Upon which, that I might be, as one may ſay, yard arm and yard arm, with him, I got a coil of rope, clapt it aloft my ſea cheſt, brought it along ſide his hammock, ſo I ſet down on it, and our heads were then on the ſame latitude together.

So then he began (reaching out his hand on the ſtarboard ſide) ſays he, my good friend—you have been ſo civil to me, that I have no way to return your kindneſs, but by making you a preſent of this book of receipts, and telling you a piece of ſecret hiſtory, that you may make money of it, if you have a mind to print it.

You muſt know, Mr. Trip, that our ſociety, for many years, found our intereſt declining both in France and Portugal; and therefore our ſuperiors thought of re-eſtabliſhing themſelves in England.

Several miſſionaries that were ſent from Rome to England, aſſured us in their letters, that the Engliſh people would believe any thing, that [Page 105] the ſyſtem or faſhion of the minds of the generality, of both the high and low life multitude turned upon an axis, whoſe points were CONCEIT, and CREDULITY.

The ſucceſs which the methodiſts, and their doctrines met with, encouraged us greatly; nay our ſociety received ſeveral letters from their moſt eminent preachers in your iſland; and they told us, our miſſion would be received, provided we joined them; and that upon particular pecuniary conceſſions on our ſide, they would unite with us. Becauſe they aſſured us, they muſt and would be of infinite ſervice to our ſociety, ſince they knew ſo well how to work upon the multitude.

Before we would conſent to ſign any articles with them, we reſolved, from experiment, to diſcover how far we could venture to impoſe upon the people of England.

I was diſpatched upon that miſſion, and to prevent ſuſpicion, or the leaſt inquiry of what I was, I made intereſt to be engaged, as one of the ſubaltern players, belonging to the Theatre in London, only to do trifling parts; and when I was once ſeen upon the Stage in that capacity, it was impoſſible any perſon could ſuſpect I was good for any thing.

A brother of our order followed me with freſh inſtructions; but as his part required he ſhould be introduced at all hours, and in all places, to the very beſt company; he aſſumed the character of an Italian fiddler, tooth cleaner and deſigner; and when we have met to compare notes in an evening, he has made me ſmile, to hear him relate how every door uſed to fly open at his approach; and he would goſſip for two [Page 106] hours with very great perſonages, while the anti-chamber would be full of colonels and commodores, waiting for an audience.

The earthquake was of my projecting, ſo was the bottle-conjurer, it was me who wrote the prophecy for the perſon called the life-guardman; but in reality he was porter to the Fanciſcans at Padua.

He, as you may remember, foretold the return of the earthquake would happen ſuch a day, and Bloomſbury-fields, and Bloomſburyſquare, was filled with coaches; and whole families crammed in them, who there ſet all night, not daring to truſt themſelves in their own houſes. I ſmiled when I ſaw them thus huddled together; but was amazed to ſee many of your preachers hurrying out of town, as if they were panick ſtruck with the dread of leaving this world—when they are certain, there is one ſo infinitely preferable, and in which, by the doctrines they profeſs, they muſt be eternally happy.

Are they, thought I, only like phyſicians, who adminiſter medicines for the good of mankind, (as they ſay) yet have no faith in their own preſcriptions.

One afternoon, by chance, I met with Elizabeth Canning; ſhe had loſt ſix-pence, was crying about, dared not to go home, ſhe ſaid—I obſerved her, ſhe had the moſt ſtupid look, yet on converſing with her, I diſcovered ſhe poſſeſſed cunning and obſtinacy.

By the promiſe of making up her loſs, a new topknot, and the temptation of riding in a hackney-coach, I prevailed upon her to go with me, and when ſhe was perfect in her part, I exhibited [Page 107] her, as you muſt remember; this ſcheme anſwered, to prove Engliſh peoples aptneſs to embrace, or take part with incoherencies.

Rejoiced I was, when the gentleman, who endeavoured to detect the impoſture, met with ſuch oppoſition by his example. I was ſure other magiſtrates would be deterred from making any other ſtrict and impartial enquires—for indeed Mr. Trip (thus the Jeſuit went on) though your nation is one of the beſt in the world, yet at preſent, folly and prejudice have ſpread themſelves ſo peſtilentially among all ranks and denominations; that any perſon, who now would en deavour to benefit his country from a praiſeworthy principle of integrity—So great is the defection throughout all degrees—ſo epidemic the contagion of ſelf-intereſt; the patriot would be hooted at for a madman, reviled as a pretender, or puniſhed with contempt, and if poſſible with beggary.

Preferment makes the Engliſh nation behave, juſt as the children of Iſrael did, when the manna fell among them, they ſnatch up all they can, overload themſelves often— no matter, by this method, leſs is left for their neighbours.

After this affair was over, I was ſent for back to Rome upon ſpecial affairs, relative to our ſociety; but I left a brother of our order full inſtructions how to proceed, and the plan for a project, that, as ſoon as he recovered, he was to put in execution; it was the COCK-LANE PHANTOM, or what was then called Miſs Fanney's Spirit.

This was our moſt favourite ſcheme, this was our corner ſtone; we therefore employed [Page 108] more—I ſuppoſe he would have ſaid ſkill, but our ſhip, at that moment, by the wind ſhifting, took ſuch a luſt, that her lee-ruff-tree dipped in the water, and the Jeſuit was canted overboard out of his hammock, pitched his head upon the trunnion of a four pounder, and never ſpoke another word.

I was overſet, but I ſoon righted; but as for my companion, death clapped a ſtopper upon his tongue, as quick as one could crack a biſcuit.

And this is the truth, and the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, as witneſs my hand.

WILLIAM TRIP, Mariner.

In the analytical deſtination of the incorporalities of ghoſts, wrote originally in Runic, tranſlated by SAXO GRAMMATICUS into the German, there is one page, which, for the benefit of all true believers, I have taken the trouble to render into Engliſh, viz.

There are three diſtinct or ſeparate ſpecies, or claſſes of ghoſts and apparitions.

The firſt is the miſer's ſpectre; this phantom invariably appeareth loaded with chains, to tell where money hath long been hid; and it cometh as a ſkeleton, becauſe it is ſuppoſed to ſtarve itſelf to death, ergo, it cannot have any fleſh upon its bones.

The ſecond is the winding-ſheet ghoſt, or torch-holding-immateriality; which is a loveſick maiden, that glideth along the midnight dew, to undraw the feet curtains of her forſworn ſwain, and bidding him bethink [Page 109] him of former affairs, of plighted troth and ruin'd maidenheads. She cometh in a white ſheet, to do pennance for being ſo fooliſh as to break her heart, hang, drown, or poiſon herſelf for love and conſtancy.

The third and laſt is the hobgobblin, or raw head and bloody bones—this is very terrifying, and often uſed to appear to ſeveral particular perſons, both at ſea and land, an hour or two before an engagement—but it is at preſent, as well as the love-ſick ghoſt, almoſt out of faſhion.

Eternal infamy upon his name, who wiſhes to have any more ghoſts among us; and all honour, praiſe, and preferment, attend and wait upon the ambaſſador's chaplain, who gave the Grand Signior wiſe and chriſtian-like advice; not to open a communication between the Mediterranean and Red-ſea; becauſe it would diſturb all the ghoſts that are now ſo quietly laid in the laſt mention'd ocean.

1.3.5. SCENE, PLYMOUTH.

[Page 110]
A BEDCHAMBER.
Mrs. LLWHYDDWHUYDD ſola in bed; toſſing, ſighing, fretting, turning, tumbling, wiſhing and deſpairing; till on a ſudden ſhe upſtarted, looking ſeriouſly at the light upon the hearth, and taking a pinch of right rappee, thus ſoliloquiſed.

THE candles juſt burnt out, and no Knott come yet; what would I give, if I was but at home with my dear huſband; if ever I put my truſt in man again, except my own dear huſband, I wiſh this pinch my poiſon! oh what villains are that inconſtant ſex, except my own poor dear huſband. O that he did but know where I was, that my dear David was but with me, he would not let me lie alone, frightening myſelf, if I was but this moment with my dear huſband in my own room, or if he was but with me here—as to Knott—he's a ſcrub—a wretch I deſpiſe and contaminate—he never knew how to value a woman of merit—no, not he —let him have his trulls, I always was too good for him — I deſpiſe him; nobody do I love, or ever did but my dear huſband — juſt then her ſtomach began to pain her — her heart grew cold — ſhe put forth her hand upon the chair, by the bedſide was a bottle three parts full of medicinal water.

[Page 111] She raiſed the elixir to her mouth—and gently gulping—once—twice—thrice—adminiſtered, warmth to her ſorrow chill'd breaſt, diſcontent, died away, ſleepful ſhe ſunk upon her pillow, lulled to reſt by the calm opiate, of genuine Hollands.

1.3.6. SCENE next MORNING.

JUST as Madam Llwhyddwhuydd ſat down to her tea, the Merry Andrew came jumping into her apartment; bawling out as loud, as a bribed voter bellows liberty. Madam Knott, Madam Knott, here's good news about you in the news-paper; your huſband has ſent for you home again.

Cups, ſaucers, tea-pot, toaſt and butter, all tumbled to the floor; the lady in her hurry, of joy, ruſhing ſtrait forward, overſet the breakfaſting ſtool. — Where? where is it ſhe cried? ſnatching at the ſame time the Chronicle out of the tumbler's hands—but recollecting her inability to make the words out, returned the paper; and begged the young man would read every word of it to her loud, and very loud.

Mr. SOMERSET
began.
Whereas Chloe, the wife of muſter—here is a hard word, madam, full of double L's, and double D's, and double U's, and I can't ſpell it.
Mrs. LLWHYDDWHUYDD. I know it, child, never mind that, my dear; go to the next word.
[Page 112] Mr. SOMERSET. I'll begin again madam, and ſkip that.
Mrs. LLWHYDDWHUYDD. Do ſo, my beſt friend.
Mr. SOMERSET
reads again.
Whereas Chloe, the wife of Muſter, what do you call um, was decoy'd away by one Knott, a Corporal; this is to give notice, that if ſhe will return home to her own lawful ſpouſe, ſhe ſhall meet with a hearty welcome, and no queſtions aſked.

The huſband's grief, was left to the reader's imagination. The Editor bequeaths the wife's joy to the ſame colouriſt, and as he made bold to carry her off, takes the ſame freedom to bring her home again; her huſband received her with all that joy, which every fond forgiving ſpouſe has felt, when, with out-ſtretched arms, he once more impounds his long ſtrayed lady.

Bleſſing each other, they embraced; and over and over again they bleſſed that day, and alſo bleſſed the inventors of publiſhing new-papers, advertiſements, &c.

In honour of the Preſs, I muſt be allowed

1.3.6.1. A DISSERTATION on DAILY-PAPERS.

No Patriot, in or out of place, ever conſidered their utility, with that grateful attention, theſe publications deſerve.

[Page 113] Is there a want in the world, but what may be inſtantly relieved, if the patient will but conſult the columns of thoſe morning and evening intelligencies? with as much gravity, as ever any one of the faculty pulled off his gloves; I do declare, that without the help of theſe dictionaries for the day, the great buſineſs of the nation could not be carried on.

How could Mrs. Philips hope for the continuance of her cuſtomers? or the nobility and gentry know where to pay in their Opera ſubſcriptions? where could they ſend for the beſt royal beautifying fluid? or could be ſure of having French chicken gloves genuine? how ſhould we know when Mr. Whitfield preaches in Edinburgh, or Georgia? or where we ſhould be ſure of Roman purl unadulterated? how ſhould we be aſcertained where the moſt notified Dr. Taylor performs his occuliſtical, or oratorial operations? or where the beſt liquid blacking is to be got? where to ſend for the pure aetherial volatile quinteſſence of eſſence? or how could we be informed, that the ſea-water at Bright-Helmſtone, is better than any other ſea-water? were it not for being ſo inſtructed, by paragraphs and advertiſements aforeſaid. O credulity, cre-credulity, thou univerſal power, how much are we indebted to thy influences?

New diſcoveries, elixirs, lotions, injections, and noſtrums, for the ladies, are (as we read) to be had at every toy-ſhop.

Sometimes, indeed, the applications and uſes of theſe extraordinary ſuccedaneums are not expreſſed, in ſo delicate a ſtile, as polite perſons might wiſh. But when we conſider, the [Page 114] humane intent of the makers-up, and venders of theſe medicines, the ſtile is excuſed.

As in the country, we put up with the indelicacy of the entertainment, for the good will of the hoſt.

The humanity of the College of Phyſicians here muſt be noticed; they have an authority to inſpect into medicine-mongers; and can, nay, and ſhould, and I ſuppoſe do, viſit ſeveral places where drugs are ſold. Yet it never was known, that any deputation from Greſham College, or Apothecaries-hall, inſpected into the noted Dr. Franks, Dr. Sarrant, Dr. Rock, Dr. Jeſuit Drop, Dr. Greek Water, &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. This wilful omiſſion, is owing to the ſame public ſpirit, by which Mr. Aſhley on Ludgate-hill is agitated; gentlemen of the faculty, are willing to let every perſon have phyſic as well as punch, in ſmall quantities, and therefore wink at the aforeſaid advertiſers.

Yet ſuch is the malignity of humankind, that even this generous behaviour of the faculty has been found fault with; and the babbling pack of ſcandal yelpers bark out — that as quacks make diſeaſes worſe, the profits of the regular bred muſt be thereby increaſed.

Malicious inſinuations, as if gentlemen of the M. D. ſignatures, would be guilty of ſuch pitiful fineſſes. Thus the mad multitude have as baſely clamoured againſt the POLICE.—The low-life herd of hirelings give out, that truly, if the worthies in commiſſion would but take half as much pains to ſuppreſs the bawdy-houſes, bagnios, &c. in their pariſhes, as they labour to take highwaymen, it would be of more benefit [Page 115] to the nation in general—but how little do theſe people know of ſporting—if the cover was grubbed up, the breeding of game would be prevented; how then could money for a ſubſcription pack of harriers, tarriers, &c. be collected?

With what force I ween?—but good heaven forgive us, God bleſs their majeſties, and every perſon who is commiſſioned by them, to ſee juſtice done as it ſhould be.—And as Mr. Jacob Henriques obſerves, it is all for the glorification of Old England.

When I mention the word quacks, it is not to be preſumed, that any gentleman recipe-vender, acting under letters patents, can be hinted at; becauſe we are all certain, patents are only granted to men of excellent ſcience, of approved education, whoſe diſcoveries have been owing to indefatigable ſtudy, and are witneſs from repeated experiments, before the moſt ſkillful, to be entirely calculated for the health and preſervation of the people of England.

Theſe, and many more uſes than theſe, belong to news-papers, they not only bring health to patients, but ladies to deſpairing lovers, and wives to huſbands, as in the caſe of Mr. and Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd now under our conſideration; had it not been for the conveniency of advertiſing, when could they have come together again.

Yet David did not deſcend one grain from the dignity of in-bred honour, by permiting his wife to return home.

For while he had one ready-money cuſtomer left, his big heart deſpiſed ſubmiſſion; but when all his trade was loſt, the garriſon of his great [Page 116] mind was forced to capitulate, his nobleneſs of ſpirit and blood of Japhet, were forced to ſurrender priſoners of war, at and to diſcretion. He obeyed the times. Madam Llwhyddwhuydd gave him her hand, he kiſſed it—tears of joy ſwelled over his eye brinks, and he told her, in the name of God and good people, how his heart was glad to ſee her, to be ſure, and I do hope in deed, I do now.

Mrs. LLWHYDDWHUYDD. And ſo do I, huſband, that nothing hereafter may be mentioned concerning my former withdrawing myſelf; for although my dear huſband, I eſteem you as ſo worthy a man ought to be eſteemed; yet if ever you was to reproach me, with what might or might not ſuppoſe to have happened during our ſeparation; that moment ſhould be my laſt, I would the next plunge myſelf to the bottom of the river, and prevent that way your ill uſage.

Her ſpouſe, though in raptures at the ſtatelineſs of his wife's geſture; yet the reſolution of her look frightened him; fearful that ſhe ſhould make away with herſelf, eſpecially as he had been at ſuch an expence to fetch her home too; he kneel'd down and begged her to be pacified, and forgive him, if he had ſaid any thing amiſs.

She forgave him, and raiſed him with a tender reconciling look, equal to what the moſt enraged (though detected) lady can ſoften into, when her huſband has made a proper humiliation, and giving up all his informers.

For it is not poſſible a man can love his lady, either married or unmarried, unleſs he will [Page 117] wink at her errors; and the larger thoſe errors are, or the greater the number, the more occaſion has he to manifeſt his affection.

To do David juſtice, which a man ſo well born as he was, deſerves; although his enemies ſaid he was a perfect t'other-end-of-the-towns-man, ſuffering himſelf to be carried down the tide in the corrupted currents of this world, admitting the flaws and cracks of reputation to be cemented by the ſolder of ſelf-intereſt, yet he never let awry word paſs his lips againſt his lady.

Madam Llwhyddwhuydd grew again the admiration of the neighbourhood, and cuſtomers, even the beſt in the pariſh, aſſembled there every evening as before times.

1.3.7. SCENE the TROLLOPEE'S CATASTROPHE. OR RETORT UNCOURTEOUS.

SOON after Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd's return, Mr. Ap Thomas, her ſpouſe's partner, with a full pot of porter in his hand, happened to run againſt her, juſt as ſhe came from her Sunday noon's walk in St. James's Park.

Her white ſatin trollopee was ſplaſhed with it, and the very ſmell of porter always made Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd ſick; becauſe perſons are apt to depiſe what they get their living by; her cloaths were ſpoiled, and ſuch cloaths too!—a dreſs, that the firſt dutcheſs in the land might have gone to court in.

[Page 118] Paſſion ever has power to ſerve an ejectment upon reaſon; the ſuffering lady on that account, became ſo little miſtreſs of herſelf, that ſhe called Thomas ſeveral ſevere names, and at laſt told him he was a vulgar creature.

The word vulgar, was grimgribber, to the ancient Briton; to be reflected upon, as if he was not a gentleman, irritated him to that degree, that he returned her ſevere words; with words yet more ſevere.

The writer of this part has ſerved his time to the knowledge of mankind, and ſince worked ſeveral year journeyman in that profeſſion; elſe he never could have believed ſuch words could have eſcaped any man's lips; who valued himſelf upon being a gentleman, as Mr. Thomas uttered.—He made uſe of ſuch phraſes, that no perſons, if they were not in a paſſion, or choſe to be looked upon ſuperior to the ſcurrilous rank of informing conſtables, would rehearſe.

For in moſt illiberal language, he reproached her with the Corporal.

Company coming in very faſt, ſhe could not with decency ſtay, to hear him any longer, Ladies may like to liſten to ſome ſort of expreſſions, yet it is not proper every body ſhould know it. It was extreme modeſty that made Mrs. Llwhuddwhuydd quit the bar, and leave her adverſary maſter of the field of battle.

Page 118

Miſs SHRED. Indeed, Madam, I wiſh you was to have been laſt lecture night at our tabernacle, to have heard that good creature the doctor divide the difference of going into keeping, through inclination, or intereſt. Love for love is, (as he ſaid) like the Levitical law) of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; but mercenary matches, with or without the parſin (it is all the ſame) is a ſin not to be even purified even by regeneration. But, dear madam, you never told me why you wou'd come home again. I hope the Corporal was not inconſtant?
Mrs. LLWHUDDWHUYDD. Inconſtant Miſs! Do you imagine the horrid country ladies, could have any charms for a gentleman like Mr. Knott? who had been titup a tit-up with all the beau moon of St. James's Park*—Inconſtant—no Miſs, I aſhure you [looking in the glaſs] I didn't fear any rivals; but I could never forgive the Corporal, becauſe he would not hold his tongue. To be ſure, he mought have made himſelf worthy of any woman's [Page 120] love, if he would not have boaſted ſo, and made my name the tent-talk of his comrades. I vow, Miſs, I have bluſh'd ſpontaneouſly, as one may fay, and my cheeks have burn'd as much, as if one was talking of a body. When I us'd to reflect, how my name mought be brought up as the Corporal's concubine, before a parcel of ſutlers wives, and ſogers trulls—me Miſs — was it ME to be treated ſo—I could not bear the idea [riſing up] I, I, to be uſed ſo— [walking forwards and backwards, her left hand extended upon her right breaſt, her right hand waving a handkerchief in a curve, or ſerpentine line] I here ſhe ſet down again] I who was born in the Ingies, and my mamma was firſt waiting woman of quality to the Empreſs of the Catawaws.
Miſs SHRED
[Pouring a little more into the glaſs.
Indeed, Madam, it is immenſely monſtrous, to reflect how men will blab; and that is one reaſon why I have often wiſhed to be a perſon of quality, becauſe they don't care what is ſaid about them.
Miſs LLWHUDDWHUYDD. Very true, dear Miſs; but as I am but a ſimple gentlewoman, one is obliged to be careful concerning one's reputation, and as I left the Corporal, becauſe I would not be talked off; ſhall ſuch a reptul as Thomas pretend to reproach me? my huſband knows of it; and every body knows my huſband is a man of honour, and therefore—Miſs your health.
[Page 121] Miſs SHRED. To be ſure, madam, ſuch affairs as your's with the Corporal, may happen to the fineſt woman in England; and in polite life, it is looked upon to be no more than an accident; and no perſons would blame you, but vulgar creatures, nor is there any harm in it;—that is, when it proceeds entirely from the ſpirit; as we prove at our love-feaſts*.

Here followeth, in the manuſcript, ſeven Chapters of Mr. Zapanhiel's own hand-writing upon the ſeven deadly ſins; and a collection of receipts of regeneration. Which he entitles, Fullers Earth for the Spots of the Soul, and the account how Miſs Shred became a Methodiſt, which is introduced by a preface of obſervation; wherein he ſays, that gamblers and ladies of pleaſure, if they live to grow old, and have ſaved money enough to encourage our paſtors, or any paſtors to pray by them, they are weaned from their wickedneſſes, and become ſanctified, for the older we grow, the wiſer we grow.

And he ſays further, in exhorting all ſinners to regenerate.—Oh what a heavenly comfort it is, to conſider, that a ſinner, after running thro' a life of all wickedneſs, ſhall, only by attending on our tabernacle, be purified. Is it not a rich balſam for a ſore ſoul? therefore come unto us all ye who are afflicted, with the remembrances of the methods, by which ye have got your wealth; and ye ſhall but give a tythe to us, by way of paying inſurance to the ſaints, who will [Page 122] infallibly ſave you from being ſhipwrecked on the rocks of perdition, and will ſtcer you into the harbour of grace. Yet we are not Papiſts, no—we won't give you abſolution—we are not Proteſtants—no—we will not ſave you by repentance—no, no, we are Methodiſts; and it is regeneration ſhall ſave you; it ſhall be the cork waiſtcoat to keep you floating, and ye ſhall not ſink into the bottomleſs pit of the ſea, where the Devil of Hell lies in the ſhape of a ſhark to devour you.

All theſe ſentimental chapters, the Editor poſtponed; and therefore was obliged to cut out, and to turn over above 70 pages, before he could find the continuation of this Regiſter, which went on as follows.

1.3.7.1. The Natural Reaſon for a LADY's LONGING.

David's lady ſoon had it in her power to perform her vow—the vow of revenge, which ſhe had ſolemnly taken to be even with Thomas her trollopee ſpoiler. Finding herſelf with child, to the great joy of her ſpouſe, ſhe told her huſband ſhe longed for a bite or two at his partner Thomas's noſe; and it was that which occaſioned thoſe learned quotations, inſerted in the firſt pages of this hiſtory. And if the reader pleaſes to remember Mr. David and his partner, in the midſt of that moſt claſſical converſation, were called away by the noiſe of chair, chair—juſt as Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd had fixed his ſtraps to the poles, a meſſage came that his lady was taken very ill; upon which hurrying away as faſt as he could with the fare, he returned to comfort his good woman, who that morning fell in labour, occaſioned by her over care as an oeconomiſt.

[Page 123] For though Madam Llwhyddwhuydd was big with child, and reckoned every hour, yet ſhe would needs go to market herſelf, becauſe ſhe ſaid, ſervants had ſo many ways of cheating their maſters and miſtreſſes. It happened, as ſhe paſſed by a public houſe, near the market, two people were quarrelling about the critical rules of the game of Put; the altercation being pretty high, the cards were thrown out at the window, juſt as this lady was paſſing by, and the knave of Clubs hit her upon the noſe. She was frighted, put into a chair, carried home immediately, and fell into labour in about half an hour. Her friends immediately prognoſticated, that from the incident of the knave of Clubs ſtriking her, it would be a boy; if it had been a queen, they ſaid, it would have been a girl, and that her ſon would, as he grew up, be an odd mortal, and as comical to look at, as the knave of Clubs was. The ſubſequent behaviour of Needy, has verified the truth of the prediction.

Juſt at this time, many prodigies appeared in the political, theatrical, and ſcholaſtic worlds or circles.

At this time the great alloway was in bloſſom at Hoxton, and a maiden ſizes at York city; the firſt calf with five legs that ever was ſhown in England, came to town that day; and that day Mr. Whitfield—but whether theſe revolutions and portents happened in conſequence of Ned's coming into the world; or that Ned's coming into the world, was in conſequence of theſe things happening, we leave with ſubmiſſion to the retroſpection of all ſearchers into futurity.

1.3.8. SCENE the DELIVERY.

[Page 124]

After Madam Llwhyddwhuydd was put into bed, and her goſſips aſſembled, the good women ordered a man-midwife to be ſent for; but Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd knowing the objection her ſpouſe had to men-midwives, was prudent enough to refuſe ſuch aſſiſtance, becauſe ſhe was ſure it would offend her huſband's delicacy.

However, the other ladies were unanimous for a man. She entreated, ſhe begged, they were obſtinate; the diſpute was loud, it reached into the ſtreet, and every ſtall, chandlers-ſhop, and cellar-keeper in the pariſh aſſembled at the door, and determined, that as they knew David was ſent for, he ſhould not paſs into his own houſe, until they had his word and honour, to ſend for a man-midwife for his lady; for as each ſaid, if it was only for the look of the thing, he ſhould have one; David appeared, at that inſtant they ſurrounded him, as the print relates to you, much better than I can. However, one figure in it, I muſt beg leave to explain; which is, the big-bellied female, who ſeems to be full of grief—that lady, is ſpouſe to a moſt celebrated writer of political papers; and who has wrote very ſeverely againſt men-midwives; becauſe, not being able to pay for their attendance, thoſe gentlemen had refuſed their aſſiſtance.

She was a party deeply concerned in this diſpute, and it afflicted her, to take notice of Davids obſtinacy—he indeed once or twice attempted to ſpeak—but it was a vain attempt; as he could not, we beg leave to ſpeak for him.

p. 121.

SLAUGHTER Surgeon & Man Midwife

[Page 125] Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd was too fond a huſband to deny his wife what ſhe deſired; but being a great reader, the news-papers and magazines informed him of the indecency, indelicacy, and evil tendency of having men-midwives.

The putters together of thoſe daily and monthly paragraph compendiums had proved, that no huſband of nice honour, would ſuffer a man-midwife; and as David was a man of the niceſt honour, how could he endure them?

In ſome papers it was hinted, that men-midwives could be of no uſe, becauſe the Indian women delivered themſelves.

In other papers it was inſerted, that in a ſtate of nature, there were neither men midwives, nor parſons; and that people could do well without both; and as how in the firſt ages, and the firſt ages were the beſt ages, and that this age was the worſt age; but in the firſt ages there were no arts, or ſciences, nor occaſion for any; that people would live better without them, than with them; that neither mankind or womankind had need for more help than the animals in the fields; or the fowls of the air; that it was only villainous cuſtom, evil habits, wrong tendencies, and the prejudice of education; that made us employ ſurgeons, taylors, chymiſts, ſhoe-makers, men-midwives, dancing-maſters, ſnuff-makers, French-cooks, ſaddles, ſhirts, ſhifts, or pocket-handkerchiefs.

From the information of thoſe weekly paid journaliſts, we may eaſily account why GREAT SCHOLARS, who ſtudy nature ſo nicely, are ſuch GREAT SLOVENS; as they know by their extreme ſkill, that we are not ſuperior to the [Page 126] beaſts; they chuſe to retain as much brutality as poſſible in their behaviour.

David, like the traveller in the contention with the wind, wrapped himſelf up in his ſurtout, determined to ſtand out the tempeſt; when word was brought him, that madam Llwhyddwhuydd was brought to bed of a fine boy, and as like the father—

He would not ſtay to hear the reſt of the meſſenger's obſervation; burſting through the crowd, run home, and received the congratulations of his company. Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd indeed rejoiced having a ſon and heir; and that was the utmoſt of his hopes, wiſhes, and prayers, before he had read the obſervations abovementioned. Yet now his principal ſatisfaction aroſe, from the reflection his lady was brought to bed without the help of a man-midwife.

1.3.9. The METAPHYSICAL SCENE.

The authors of Joſeph Andrews and Triſtram Shandy wrote themſelves into reputation, and I believe got money by what they did; and really deſerved it.—Ever ſince I have engaged in this work, I have endeavoured to copy one or both of their ſtiles, manners, or maxims; but I cannot fancy myſelf quite ſo clever. Yet have I all that cuſtomary fondneſs, that becoming partiality, for my own works, which every author ought to have; and hold all the reſt of my cotemporaries in a trifling light, to myſelf. This I do as well as any or all the dramatic writers of England, Ireland or Scotland; but yet I don't find myſelf (honeſtly ſpeaking) a jot better genius for all the abuſe I make uſe of.

[Page 127] If the connections I have with publiſhers could be on my ſide diſcharged, or a protection granted me, I might wear a laced coat, and live without working, as well as many other gentlemen.

Then, I would no more meddle with a pen and ink, than a lady in high keeping would mend her own linnen; for my mind ſcorns the drudgery of writing, reading, and reflecting, as much as any rich man in the kingdom can do.

My wife has an acquaintance, who promiſes to provide for me, either in the church, the navy, the law, the army, the cuſtoms, at court, or in the exciſe; it does not ſignify what branch it is; for if a man has but intereſt, he is fit for any place.

Muſt it not irritate a genius, like me, or like my ſpouſe, to ſee ſo many dunces, driving their one horſe-chaiſe, or elſe crammed into hackney coaches, taking the air to White Conduit-houſe, on a Sunday, raiſing a duſt on the New Road, and choaking ſuch foot paſſengers as me, and my wife: but we enjoy the ſatisfaction to reflect, though thoſe wretches ride about flouriſhing, in the folly of finery—yet they perhaps, not one of them, ever made a rebus, or can repeat the Greek alphabet.

At this inſtant, the dear creature my ſpouſe is ſitting by me; in diſhabille, indeed—for what need we outward ornaments, when we can deck the mind with underſtanding, or look upon the faſhions of the world, but to condemn, or pity, thoſe that uſe them.

Our baſe grovelling-money-getting-neighbours envy us, and abuſe us, for ſuffering our children (we have but ſix, indeed) to run about ragged. [Page 128] But I deſpiſe their rancour, my wife its too well born, too well bred, and too great herſelf, to deſcend to the ſervile domeſtic drudgery of tending nurſeries, or the baſe culinary employment of cooking victuals; no, we had rather go without a dinner, than dreſs one for ourſelves; and the ingratitude and ignorance of the world won't allow us to afford a ſervant.

N. B. This digreſſion is here inſerted to amuſe the reader, until Madam Llwhyddwhuydd was well enough to ſee company.

All the better moſt people of Shug-lane, and Middle-row, came to pay the lying-in viſit. But Madam Llwhyddwhuydd confeſſed to her very intimates, that ſhe cou'd not reliſh a viſitor, with half that ſatisfaction, who lived on the city ſide of Northumberland houſe, as ſhe did thoſe at the polite end of the town.

The Goſſips met, and cawdle crown'd the board.

Unworthy wou'd it be of me, to have regiſtered this goſſipping, had not the meeting been ſo particularly famous for the metaphyſical converſation, which they, for the firſt time, ſtarted in Engliſh—concerning ſeveral abſtruſe and occult points, predicaments, qualities, eſſentials, and immaterialities, relative to ideas, contract, reſiſtance, modes of the mind, habits of the body, rules of government, errors of adminiſtration, defects in religious worſhip, inequalities of rewards and puniſhments, hell, happineſs, Doctors Commons, faith, perjury, ſimony, hereſy, adultery, accidents of matter, and ſpiritual eſſences.

[Page 129] Piece-meal have theſe ſubjects been retailed, even unto this day, in every coffee-houſe, tavern, punch-houſe, ale-houſe, eating-houſe, and night-cellar, unleſs the more intereſting vocations of politics, ſtrumpeting, or gambling, have employed the good company's attention.

Firſt GOSSIP. Indeed, madam, you ſay true, and I muſt own, that after I was delivered of my firſt child, I could not help conſidering deeply about theſe things; and ſo, when I went down for my health into the country, I uſed to love to ſee the hens lay eggs; and then thoſe eggs I was told would produce chickens; upon which, ladies, a thought came into my head, that I never have been ſatisfied about ſince; and that is — which was made firſt, the yolk or the egg-ſhell? if the egg-ſhell was made firſt; how came the yolk in it? if the yolk was made firſt; how came the ſhell over that?
Second GOSSIP. That, madam, is one of the moſteſt curious queſtions in the world; and it was the parſon of our pariſh, who firſt axt me that queſtion; and he laughed at me, cauſe I cou'dn't reſolve him; ſo I made my husband ſend it to the rial ſaciety, and they'll tell us about it I know by and bye.
Third GOSSIP. Now there is one thing, that I, want to know ſadly; becauſe our ſexton ſays, the veſtry divided [Page 130] about it; and they ſhould know, to be ſure, ladies; that is — whether ſtill-born infants have any ſins to anſwer for?
Firſt GOSSIP. To my knowledge, madam, this has made great diſputes among the clergy; and they are divided in their opinions; though, to me, it is as clear as noon-day; for how can poor infants anſwer, when they never had been taught to ſpeak?
ALL. Oh, to be ſure, quite right, quite right, indeed.
Third GOSSIP. Pray, ladies, don't you take fate to be a free agent?
Fourth GOSSIP. To be ſure, madam; whatever may be a lady's fate, yet ſhe is a free agent; becauſe, now, ſuppoſe I was fated to be married to a perſon, whom I can't ſay I could reliſh, it is at my upſhot, to be ſure, whether I will act, or no; and ſo, fate is a free agent. But a gentleman, who lodges in my one pair of ſtairs, told me, but yeſterday, talking about free agents, and fate, and what might be the fate of agents; that fate, and free agency, were like king and commons, that the mind was the monarch, and the will was the people. So I told him, in anſwer, that whatever his mind [Page 131] was, he could not have his will of me, without I had a mind.
ALL. Oh, no, to be ſure, no, to be ſure.
Firſt GOSSIP. Now, ladies, give me leave to aſk you, whether, as Adam never was born, as other people have been ſence; that is, no lady was ever brought to bed, or with child of him, could he have a navel?
ALL. No, no, no, to be ſure, no.
Third GOSSIP. My brother, ladies, we all know is a great writer; and once wrote a whole news-paper himſelf. He is ſo great a genus at handling his pen, that I was tould by the waiter at Ronelor, how he mought have wrote a ſong, and it would have been ſung before the grand company there; and that you know, madam, wou'd be the vaſteſt honour imaginable; becauſe the quality cou'd recommend him, you know, to be poet larum ſong-maker to the rial familly; but he has gone and diſobliged my huſband, and all his friends; for he has hired himſelf to a club of philoſophers, and ſo be is to publiſh a book, to prove, how far free-will acts upon the load-ſtone; and he ſays, he don't doubt but he'll get a penſhum for't.

[Page 132] Mrs. Murdock, the nurſe, then began a diſcourſe upon ethics, to determine the identical ſpot of Satan's demeſnes, or where hell-fire was. She affirmed it to be ſeated in the middle of the ſun—but Madam Celery, the green-grocer's lady, denied that, and ſaid it was in the middle of the earth.

Miſs Shred, who was always a ſyſtemiſt, ſuppoſed there were ſeveral hells, and that every comet contained one. — The Bible was quoted by Jenny Douglaſs; but when it was aſked what Bible, becauſe Mrs. Murdock obſerved, there were ſo many hiſtories of the Bible, publiſhed at ſix-pence per month, ſhe cou'dn't tell what to ſay to it, for ſhe didn't ſuppoſe they could be all good, becauſe the blue-paper covers ſaid ſo.

Madam Llwhyddwhuydd obſerved, that ſhe ſuppoſed they were all true tranſlations, and explications, or elſe, to be ſure, the biſhops would not ſuffer ſuch things to be publiſhed.

Mrs. MURDOCK. Well, there are ſo many religions, and ſo many religious opinions, and ſo many books about religion, and ſo many diſputes, and ſo many ſort of preachers, that they are not all to be truſted.
Firſt GOSSIP. No, Madam, why an't they all chriſtians?
Mrs. MURDOCK. Chriſtians? no, Madam — why ſome are Preſbyterians, and ſome are Methodiſts.
[Page 133] Miſs SHRED. As to Methodiſts, Madam Murdock, you muſt excuſe me; becauſe they are the only chriſtians, for they are regenerated, and no body can be a ſincere chriſtian, until being regenerated; but there are a great many people in the world that are of no religion.
Mrs. MURDOCK. And that's better, than not being of the true one for its a ſhame to ſee how parents uſe their children, here the poor innocents are ſouſed over head and ears, or elſe they are circumſciſed, or elſe made Quakers, or elſe one thing done to them, or elſe another, and ſo they are bound prentice to this, or to that teligion, without ever knowing if they can like it. — And that makes ſo many different opinions in the world, when they grow up to be men and women; becauſe it don't ſignify whether they were made Jews or Chriſtians, you ſee Jews behave as Chriſtians, and Chriſtians as Jews, and there's no telling one from to'ther, I think.

This converſation determined Madam Llwhyddwhuydd, that as there were ſuch diſputes about religion, her ſon ſhould not undergo any ſpiritual ceremony, until he came to years of diſcretion, then he might chuſe which religion he liked beſt, and that was the reaſon, our Maſter Neddy was never chriſtened.

1.3.10. SCENE, ISLINGTON.

[Page 134]

Thus far the Editor compiled of the MSS, and attended on the appointed Sunday at Mr. WARNER'S, who is a very good ſort of a man; and one to whom the putter together of theſe hiſtorical paragraphs has been very much obliged.

This would not have been mentioned, but to convince the world all authors are not ſo ingrateful, as to forget the friends, who formerly filled their bellies.

I have compoſed Drolls for Mr. Warner's booth, and by his recommendation, I have wrote ſeveral dramas for the proprietors of puppet-ſhows, in which, I uſed to adhere entirely to the ſtrict rules of Ariſtotle, Rapin, and Boſſu. The chaſtity of taſte among Engliſh audiences at that time was ſo pure, they would not bear the ſmalleſt innovation of the unities of time, and place, even in Mr. Punch;—becauſe, as the coffee-houſe connoiſſeurs obſerved, it is more inſtructive, and more elegant, even to be lulled into a ſlumber, by the rules of art, than kept awake, and in ſpirits, by all the fire of fancy, contrary to the Greek and French ſcale or ſtandard.

At that time Mrs. Charke, ſiſter to the late Mr. Theophilus Cibber, had a famous puppet-ſhow, which was conducted with ſuch regularity.—To compare the puppet-ſhows of that time, with the puppet-ſhows of this time, would be only an ill-natured attempt. But Charlotte Charke uſed to pride herſelf, that her company, her ladies at leaſt, were all veſtals. Becauſe, as ſhe ſaid, a lady belonging to the Theatres [Page 135] Royal may be weak enough, or fond enough, or mean enough, and mercenary enough, to deſcend being upon the town. But who? (Mrs. Charke uſed to exult) who can ſay, they ever ſupped with the Queen of Sheba, at the Shakeſpear, or had fair Roſamond at Haddock's?

This daughter of Colley Cibber, the late Poet Laureate, was a lady of ſurpriſing ſingularity; but the oddities of the human mind are unaccountable.

There is his honour Sir ******, a great politician; yet all his delight is chucking ſix-pence into a quart decanter.

Is not Mr. ***** the great phyſician, an admirer of parched peas; but cannot eat any, except what he cooks himſelf.

Mr. ***** the famous mathematician, prefers battledore and ſhuttle-cock, to painting, poetry, and muſic; and don't we all know ſeveral dignified ****, who, though amazingly orthodox, value themſelves more upon their taſte, in veniſon, and Madeira, than in interpreting the ſcriptures.

Some ladies of diſtinction have been known to admire low company; their huſbands at the ſame time not caring for any; but it is impoſſible to account why we are whim bitten. So far has oddity been epidemical, that noblemen have been known; nay, and ſeveral at this time are, really fond of their wives; and what is as remarkable, their ladies are as warm in their affections for their huſbands.

Our minds will be attached to irregularities. Miſs ***, with the fineſt eyes in England, affects to be near ſighted; and Lady *****, a moſt charming figure, drawn by elegance, and [Page 136] dreſſed by grace—chuſes to appear round ſhouldered.

Sir ******, one of our moſt eloquent ſpeakers, and a gentleman of amazing learning, believes he can ſpin a top, better than any other man in England, and wants to have 500 upon it.

The Rt. *****, who has ſeven of the fineſt children, perhaps in Chriſtendom, has impaired his eſtate, in purchaſing and preparing butterfly-wings, to line his ſtudy, in imitation of tapeſtry. And Mr. ***, the moſt eminent attorney in Great Britain, employs his whole time in gudgeon fiſhing.

This Mr. Warner above-mentioned, had an oddity of temper, which is uncommon among theatrical managers. He never looked upon his people, to be off the Stage as good as himſelf; he never choſe to countenance them as acquaintance, or be familiar with them as friends.

A fortnight or three weeks preceding the Borough fair, he uſed to have a great levee of people in the buſineſs, although at that inſtant perhaps out of employ; who would wait upon him, to know if he wanted any hands in the acting, ſinging, dancing, hocus pocus, or hannock and jannock way.

They uſed at firſt to come about dinner-time, and no perſon keeps a better-houſe than he does, or underſtands it better; there was always ſomething good in the pot, or roaſting at the fire. There would they walk up and down the kitchen — now glancing at the meat, now at the maſter; ſometimes darting their eyes down, deſponding into the dripping pan, then eagerly expectant, lift them up again to the boiler; and [Page 137] then they would ſtrut acroſs the kitchen, and ſpout; and ſay, to be, or not to be; and Jemmy would laugh, and whiſper me, ſaying, not to be eat by them colls, I aſſure you.

Some of theſe paſſages I was remarking to Mr. Warner, and we were thinking of old affairs, and I juſt had told him of the dripping-pan, and the tragedy and comedy people, as Mr, Zaphaniel and the dancing-maſter came in; we went up one pair of ſtairs, and there I was ſhewn MASTER EDWARD and MISS ANN, walking arm in arm up and down the Skettle-alley.

1.3.10.1. The HISTORY of MISS ANN.

YOU ſee Mr. Poet (obſerved the Dancing-maſter) you ſee there, that is Miſs NANCY, ſhe's a very deſirable girl, faith, as ſhowey a figure, as it is poſſible to repreſent.

I owned her figure was extremely agreeable.

I proteſt, Mr. Zaphaniel replied, ſhe is comely amongſt the daughters of delight — yea, ſhe is fair as the faireſt females of Judah.—She is more precious to my ſight, than the roſe of Sharon, or the ſnow-drops of Damaſcus; verily my friends, my heart beateth to behold her, and I would ſooner chuſe to have her within my fold, than both my fiſts full of the gold of ophir.

[Page 138] DANCING-MASTER. This lady appeared firſt as a public performer at Sadler's Wells; for ſome years before ſhe had performed with the public, but never until then theatrically. As ſhe was extremely agreeable in her figure, and the novelty of her dancing added to it, with her excellence in the execution, ſhe ſoon grew to be a favourite with the town; and the enſuing ſeaſon, Nancy was engaged at Covent-Garden Playhouſe. She became vaſtly celebrated, admired, imitated, and followed by every body; which is always the conſequence, when once a lady of pleaſure becomes the faſhion. The firſt night of her performance at the New Houſe, our hero, whoſe ſoul was ever agitated by love and ambition, confeſſed himſelf her admirer. Let me do Maſter Edward this juſtice, to praiſe him for his emulation, in ſo ſpirituouſly aiming at every new part in comedy, which Mr. Garrick is famous for. Yet as every biographer is ſuppoſed to be the friend of the genius, whoſe life he celebrates, I would adviſe Maſter Edward rather, hereafter, to ſtrike out a new caſt of acting for himſelf, where compariſons could not be made. In juſtice to his merit, it muſt be allowed, he, who is capable of being the maſter Stephen, the Miſer, &c. &c. has a ſufficiency of comic abilities, to be, without buffoonery, grimace or mimickry, a capital actor; and be held in a much higher point of character, than what at preſent he is. Although now he is the drole and comical one of the town, and [Page 139] pleaſes them with his performances; it is in his power, not only to give pleaſure to an audience, but to gain their eſteem; and difficult as that part may be to act, it is worth his while to ſtudy it. Edward was in love to all the degrees, ſallies, and dependencies of deſparation.—The lady obſerved her conqueſt, and enjoyed it. She knew her man; had heard that, to his girls and his gameſters, he did not mind what money he threw away. He was a trout worth tickling, and therefore returned him look for look. Emboldened by this eye language, he began to contrive a ſcheme, for enlarging the correſpondence. He wiſhed to talk with her, but he wanted words — he wiſhed to write to her; but he wanted letters; therefore employed his landland, Mr. THOMAS PHILIPS (of whom more hereafter) to be his ſecretary. I cannot forbear mentioning a piece of ingratitude of Neddy's to that old gentleman, who behaved in this affair extremely friendly to him; and yet ſo far can gaming abſorb all grateful principles, that Edward has betted twenty to five his landlord won't live until Lady-day next. The conceit of ſuch a bett has had a violent effect upon the mind of the old gentleman. Mr. Pond alſo, to the beſt of my remembrance, has ſuch another wager. I have not, indeed, a ſyllable to ſay againſt Mr. Pond; he is as fair a ſportman as ever ſtepped up the ſtand; and pays his betts as punctual, as if he was a man of quality. Yet, after he has ſaid done to ſuch a bett; what buſineſs had he to drive Mr. Philips from Greg's coffee-houſe? it ſeems as if it was deſigned, as a heart-breaking ſtroke; ſince, to [Page 140] be debarred from that academy of univerſal converſation, muſt be as great a damp upon the ſpirits of any of the curioſi; as it was to Buſſy Rabutin, to be baniſhed from the French court. When Miſs Ann became a principal dancer, ſhe had a friend, (a female one I mean) to wait upon her behind the ſcenes, to watch her motions, and take care of her ſteps. This duenna was her relation, and therefore had a more than ordinary care of her charge, leaſt detraction ſhould be malicious. The ogles which Neddy the drole, and Nancy the deſireable, reciprocally interchanged, alarmed the old lady guardianeſs. She trembled at the danger Nancy's honour was in; and ſoon as they came home that evening, thus began the moſt careful governante. I once thought, yes, that I did, Miſs Nancy, how you had a better ſpirit, and a more politer taſte, than to coquet it with a player—mercy upon us, what is our family fallen too, if this is the caſe? and ſo you're in love with the fellow, are you? I ſay, love too! I'll tell you what, child, when once any fine woman, like you, condeſcends to give her company to people of faſhion, who can pay her well for it; why there's no harm done—but for a lady to fall in love, it's juſt like a tradeſman dealing all upon honour, they had better ſhut up ſhop at once, my dear.
Miſs ANN. Lord, Madam, how you talk, as if I ever loved a man in my life, you know I never did; and yet you know I have had as fine men, [Page 141] as ever put laced cloaths on, and did I ever love any of um? how ſhould I, I have had too many and ſeen too much of them, to love them▪ Indeed, I uſed to tell them I did; what then? that was no more than rehearſing one's part you know — as to love—why now, Madam, you know you have gone out a nurſing, and have a ſweet creature it was; and yet at the ſame time it was ready to make you ſick. Why ſo it is with us girls of the town, we kiſs men, and fondle them, and make babies of them, and tell them they are ſweet creatures, and yet, at the ſame time, they make us almoſt ſick—what then, it don't laſt long; and though the ſervice may be hard, it's ſoon over; and if the wages are good, what does it ſignify?
GOVERNESS. But who would receive wages from a player?
Miſs ANN. Why, now, didn't you but yeſterday read in one of thoſe ſix-penny blue covered books, there, that we take in monthly, and a charming libry they make, that's certain, — how that a great Roman Catholic Emperor, laid a tax upon peoples making water, and how his ſon found fault with him for it, becauſe it was a baſe thing; and didn't the father, as the book ſays, take up a piece of gold that was gathered by the tax, and bid his ſon examine, if it ſmelt of chamber-ly. So, madam, what does it ſignify, if we girls can but get money, who it [Page 142] comes from; do you think my mercer can tell one body's guinea from another?
GOVERNESS. Yes, child, but what guineas can you get from a ſhow-man?
Miſs ANN. Why, mun, he no more minds money, than I do modeſty; but will give it away as unconcerned, as I do my hair-combings. Beſides ma'am, the caſe is this, I ſhan't always look ſo well as I do now; for theſe curſed waſhes I uſe, for all they do give one's neck and face ſuch a fine whiteneſs, yet they make one's ſkin in a morning, look all crumpled, like a waſher-woman's fingers, and turns one's fleſh as yellow, as a peaſe-pudding. Now, you muſt know, that this young fellow, Ned, will always have a good ſalary from the Playhouſe; becauſe he is deviliſh comical, to be ſure; tho' he has not all the wit in the world neither—what then — the fitter for my purpoſe—if I can but perſuade him to marry me—why ſhouldn't I be made an honeſt woman of? and I will too — I have got ſome money, and I'd give it all, if I could but be made an honeſt woman; for it don't ſignify talking, but I can no more look a modeſt woman in the face, as I ſhould do, than I can ſay my prayers. I wonder what's the meaning of it; however, I don't deſpair, 'cauſe I know Ned's but a Nicodemus, and a girl may get him to do any thing; we are to ſup together to night.
[Page 143] GOVERNESS. Are ye? then I ſuppoſe you are to go to bed together to night; but not at my houſe, Nan—no, by all that's honourable, I never will conſent to ſo undervaluement a connection.—A player! lye with my relation?—no — as to your having an intrigue with a man of faſhion, why it's what no lady need be aſhamed of, and indeed few are—for that's natural, and therefore no ſin in it; but ſhall any of our family, ever ſtoop ſo low, as to lay the cloath for an actor's ordinary? I deteſt ſuch buſineſs. But ſee, there's Harris from the Shakeſpear at the door, ſome gentleman has ſent for you, I'll lay my life on't—go to him, in the Lord's name; but never let me hear any more, about Mr. what's his name.

Miſs, not being willing to anger her governeſs, like other prudent young ladies, was determined to hear her guardianeſs's opinion, and follow her own. She went to the Shakeſpear, where her impatient lover Ned waited for her.

Thus began the amour — Mr. WARNER then bringing up dinner, prevented any more being ſaid upon that ſubject.

Maſter EDWARD and Miſs ANN, dined in the next room, the apartments only divided by a ſlit deal; as we were impatient to be ear-witneſſes, at leaſt of their converſation, we diſpatched our ordinary with ſuch expedition, that both their dinner and ours were over together; when, for the benefit of obſervation, Mr. Zaphaniel made three or four peep-holes in the partition, [Page 144] through which we could ſee the underwritten Dramatis Perſonae.

  • EDWARD,
  • ANN,
  • JEMMY,
  • MRS. MOLLY.

As I was determined to be punctual in their converſation, I took it down in ſhort hand, at the very time the dialogue was uttered; as follows.

Miſs ANN. Lord, Ned, now don't be ſo fooliſh, as to pull one's hair out of order ſo; I am ſure, you men, not one in a hundred of you, know how it is to treat a woman, as you ſhould do— Lord, don't paw one ſo.
Maſter EDWARD. Paw one ſo!—there's a pretty ſpeech, indeed—paw one ſo—what now, is that polite language, Miſs?
Miſs ANN. May be ſo—I hope you don't ſet up for a critic; do you, Sir?
Maſter EDWARD. Suppoſe I do, ma'am?
[Page 145] Miſs ANN. Why then I ſuppoſe you do wrong, Sir— becauſe you ſhould never find fault with other peoples words; until you can tell your own letters, Sir.
Maſter EDWARD. I can always tell your letters, Nan, when you ſend to me for money.
Miſs ANN. Yes; but who reads them for you? your landlord, doesn't he?
Maſter EDWARD. Your landlord, doesn't he? why I neither value my landlord, nor you into the bargain.
Miſs ANN. Nor any body elſe, Ned, that ever did you any favours; I will ſay that for you, your gratitude and my virtue, are two very fine things, if any body could but tell where to find them. —There was, what's his name; who wrote the droll for you, which you thought proper to call your droll, and made you your Diſh of all Sorts, and the Day of Taſte, and ſeveral comic ſongs, which have been of ſuch ſervice to you in your benefits both in town and in the country, how did your ſerve him? did'nt you exſpoſe [Page 146] him falſely, and ſcandalouſly; and ſtrove, by what you ſaid of him publickly, in ſome of the infamous bawdy-houſes, that you frequent, to render him contemptible? And he had never done any thing, to my knowledge, to merit ſuch treatment.—I wiſh he would write ſomething about you; I wiſh he would; nothing he could print againſt you, could be half ſo bad, as the abuſe you have loaded him with, in my hearing, Neddy, but he don't value you,— nor I neither—that for you — that for you; and ſhe ſnapped her fingers, as if playing upan the caſtanets, or like Caledonian ladies figuring country dances.
Maſter EDWARD. There's a pretty piece of St. Giles's muſic for you, there's a gentlewoman's action for you.
Miſs. ANN. No, Ned, I loſt that character, as ſoon as I let you have any thing to ſay to me.
Maſter EDWARD. I think myſelf as good a gentleman—
Miſs ANN. What, becauſe you wear a laced coat? and belong to the play-houſes, why ſo does New-gate Tom, and he bought his finery ſecond-hand [...]oo, the ſame way, that you came by your wit, [...] your jokes—you have them all at ſecond-hand [Page 147] now—the maker won't furniſh you any longer—you a gentleman? yes, when a night man's cart, may paſs for a nobleman's chariot.
Maſter EDWARD. If you never was to have any people to trade with you, but gentlemen, you would have very few cuſtomers.
Miſs ANN. I had one too many, when I took you for my chapman.
Maſter EDWARD. Well, let's have no more of your nonſenſe.
Miſs ANN. As much ſenſe as yourſelf, Ned, and come of a better family—now there's a ſpiteful fellow for you, to throw a glaſs of wine in my face—O you malicious—but I'll do for you—and then ſhe clapped her hands together, as if ſhe was applauding him for his acting. I'll expoſe you, ſirrah; I'll tell Squintum of you; yes, that I will, Mr. Jew's Face: though, for that matter, he knows as many tricks as you do; for, to my knowledge, the ſaints at the tabernacle can humm as well as any player in England, they are a parcel of ſad dogs, and for your part, Ned, you are—

At that moment Maſter Edward's clench'd fiſt, like a battering ram, was drove hard, horizontally, [Page 148] againſt her mouth; which blow would have been repeated, quick as the change of a pantomime trick, had not the reſt of the company interpoſed.

Soon as the ſuffering lady recovered the uſe of her ſpeech, burſting into tears, ſhe declared, that the villain wanted to ſpoil her face; becauſe ſhe ſhould not get her bread any longer, as ſhe ought to do.—For you know, Jemmy, addreſſing herſelf to the landlord, and ſtill crying; a girl upon the town, when ſhe has loſt her beauty, is like a toyſhop having its ſhow glaſs ſtole away: but by G—

Mrs. MOLLY. Oh, don't ſwear, my dear creature, conſider it is the Lord's day, and ſuch a thing as an oath ſhocks me. Chriſt, what conſcience muſt thoſe people have, who break any of the commandments.
Miſs ANN. Lord, Madam, I don't want to be taught about conſcience; I believe my conſcience, and your's too, madam, if they were hung upon a hedge to dry, no body would think them worth ſtealing.
Mrs. MOLLY. Madam, I ſuppoſe that I may have as much conſcience as my betters?

Page 148.

[Page 149] Miſs ANN. But if you have not more, than moſt of them, Lord help you, Madam—ſee how that fellow ſtands grinning there—don't hold him, Jemmy—let him come on—curſe me, if I don't box him—I'll beat ſome conſcience into him—ſo ſtand clear; for if I don't give him ſomething to make him remember me, may I never know what a guinea is again.

In a hurry ſhe pulled off her treble ruffles, with trembling fingers, twitched from her waiſt, the deep flounced apron, threw her garnet edged cap upon the floor, and in amazonian attitude, flouriſhing her fiſts, with hornpipe ſtep, ſhe advanced againſt her adverſary, who ſtood in bear-garden poſition, with horrid grin, as Satan encountred the ſeraph Abdiel.

The lady's locks, unfilleted, fell down her back; dangling like the dropping treſſes of a ſign painted mermaid.—HE bare-ſkulled, bruiſer like;—and now the belligerant pair advanced within fingers reach of each other.

OH, FOR THAT WARNING VOICE!

But what ſignifies wiſhing for it? that CHURCH-ILL'S a very ill-natured monopoliſt, and won't part with a note of it.

Come then, thou ſtimulator, and inſpirer of all proſaic ſcribblers, who, like me, jumble words together, unmuſical, unmeaning, inaccurate, inelegant, and indifferent. SPIRIT of RIBALDRY aſſiſt me, to ſing, or to relate.

[Page 150] How Nancy ſeized Ned by the collar, with one hand; and with the other, drew from the top of his forehead, four perpendicular lines along his face — blood following every ſcratch.—But as ſhe paſſed her fingers down, two of them were caught between his teeth; ſhe ſhrieked, he bit, his fiſt fell furious on her face; his other hand ſeized her hair; and with head bent back, and ſwelled out throat, down on the floor ſhe fell, pulling Ned upon her, and by the fall her fingers were releas'd.

But as it often happens in ſtates, that thoſe who are IN ſhall be OUT; and thoſe who are OUT ſhall be IN; the noſe of Mr. Edward, pitched between the upper and lower rows of ivory, which adorned Miſs Nancy's mouth. Quick as a ſhark's ſnap, ſhe fixed them in the griſtle, Ned roared like a whipped ſchool-boy. She pinned him faſt,—ſhe—.

Enter in a violent hurry the waiter, to Mr. Zaphaniel and his company.
WAITER. Gentlemen, there is ſomebody's footman below; axing after an author—down ſtairs hurried the Editor.
FOOTMAN. Sir, you muſt come to our houſe this moment.—Great people are to be obeyed implicitly. Not a reply to be uttered.—Becauſe PASSIVE OBEDIENCE is elected foot-ſtool-maker to LADY FASHION.

[Page 151] Away I went along with the ſervant, running, trotting, walking, panting, and almoſt breathleſs, arrived at the palace of my patron.

The footman informed his honour, that the man who made books was below—very well, let him wait.—So I did, about three hours, and then had the happineſs of a command, to attend there next morning, delivered from the moſt reſpectable perſonage himſelf; who condeſcended to give me that order, viva voce, as I ſtood bowing at his chariot door, before he pulled the glaſs up.

This poſtponing or delay in my affair, with my patron, aroſe not from his haughtineſs—or any other ſupercilious practiſe, with which geniuſes are generally treated, when put into trammels by their ſuperiors.

My BENEFACTOR, my MAECENAS, my MAGNUS APOLLO, had too much regard for the Arts and Sciences, to uſe me, or any other profeſſor, in ſo contemptuous a manner.

But the reaſon I had not an immediate audience was;

An ARTIST from Siberia having met with the celebrated tooth and pinion ſcheme of Mr. JONATHAN SWIFT for making verſes mechanically, improved upon the hint, and conſtructed an engine for the univerſal erudition of mankind, reſpecting ARTS and SCIENCES.

This piece of mechaniſm, being juſt imported, was brought to my patron, for his countenance and inſpection, juſt after the footman came for me. He ſaw at once its moſt amazing utility; and cried out, BRAVO, before one wheel went about.

[Page 152] The rudiments of learning, the judgment of ſcientific taſte, the excellence of all genius, the miſtery, art, plan, deſign, projection, ſection, elevation, and eſtimate of all profeſſions, callings and occupations, without the gift of invention, the labour of ſtudy, or the benefit of a fine underſtanding, this machine explained, and taught inſtantly, by the new diſcovered principle of INTUITION; and in half an hour's time, the purchaſer became an univerſal maſter of arts, as eaſily, as pretty miſs plays tunes on a hand organ.

It was very dear, and therefore no perſons, but people of faſhion, being able to become purchaſers; it kept the knowledge of every thing confined to the polite part of the world; and as every thing is to be eſtimated by its worth; and as the worth of every thing is only what it will ſell for at market; and as no body but rich people can afford to buy every thing; and as every thing a man buys is his own; therefore only people of eſtate, family, title, or penſion, can be ſaid to be poſſeſſed of the arts and ſciences, which they purchaſed in the manner above related, by this ENGINE.

The name of it is TECHNICATHOLICAUTOMATO PAN TOPPIDON.

The fabricator met with that encouragement, it behoves the rich to afford the ingenious.

The truly delicate, made a point of encouraging ſo extraordinary an artiſt; eſpecially, as he was not of this nation's growth, but imported.

Perſons of breeding obſerved, their children threw away a horrid deal of time at ſchool; and as they could judge by themſelves, that they [Page 153] were very little the better for it. Nothing could therefore be ſo immenſely convenient, or indeed ſo elegant a piece of furniture, as a clockwork ſchool-maſter, that would teach grown people of faſhion, to be perſons of reading and taſte, while their hair was dreſſing. One objection was made to the engine, which was, that it could not be ſo proper a thing to vent one's ſpleen on, as a living creature; becauſe it is the ultimate of taſte, among the very beſt bred, to behave rudely, to thoſe ingenious, who have only their own merit to recommend them: more eſpecially, if the artiſt ſhould, by the miſconduct of parents, and cruel decree of providence, be born in ENGLAND.

For the truth of this, and other as horrid particulars, I appeal to the behaviour of 9/10 of all the connoiſſeurs who keep coaches.—As to what any perſon elſe is pleaſed to prate about, it's not to the purpoſe; becauſe no man has a right to ſpeak in company, unleſs he is qualified, by much money, or ſanctified by court intereſt. Then he may expreſs his contempt for his own countrymen, with proper conſequence.

Sir Minikin Pinfly, at the Opera, laſt week, was obſerving to Lady Fidgill, (her ladyſhip having informed the Baronet, that the great premium was given to the gentleman who had found out the art of preventing black lead combs from being brittle.) In an affair of ſo much conſequence to the nation in general, as black lead combs, he thought, that the contriver could not be too much encouraged; eſpecially, if he was a foreigner; becauſe, I do aſſure your ladyſhip, that Engliſh artiſts are generally immenſely impertinent.

[Page 154] Lady FIDGILL. Frightfully ſo, pon onner, Sir Minikin; and then they are vaſtly ungenteel, and ſuch ſlovens.
Sir MINIKIN. Deteſtable, my Lady.—To be ſure, I don't trouble my head about pictures, or ſtatures, or books; but a gentleman muſt have ſuch things for furniture; and if I ſend to any of theſe artiſts, to do a job belonging to thoſe things; if he's a foreigner, the dear creature is ſo delicate, ſo ſubmiſſive, and ſuch vaſt good company,—I vow, I dote upon them. But if you ſend for any of the Engliſh brutes of geniuſes, why, truly, they are ſo ſaucy, they won't dine but at what table they pleaſe; and are ſo impudent, as to pretend to offer to give their opinions to one of us; as if ſuch common bred creatures could know things ſo well as we do.
Lady FIDGILL. They are hideous creatures; and I can't bear to ſee a genius, without it is at Sadlers Wells; and to be ſure, there, they are very well upon the wire, or tumbling, or dancing hornpipes; but for your painting-engraving people,—or your houſe-building-architects, or mathem—I deteſt ſuch horrid barbarous names; but indeed, the whole crew of creatures, who know one nonſenſe or another about the arts and ſciences, are only mob—poſitive mob—I'm ſure on't; ſpecially thoſe born this ſide Berwick—they even have the effrontery, with their ſtuff, about underſtanding, and learning, and fancy, and wit, and humour, to conceit; their ſenſes, [Page 155] are as good as ours, who are perſons of diſtinction, and ſcorn to be beholden to any ſuch low bred mechanical acquirings, as they value themſelves upon.
1.3.10.1. An interview between Author and Patron.

Next morning, being introduced to my moſt reſpectable Lord, ſubmiſſively I made my obeyſance in low bows, according to the eaſtern worſhip, as ſoon as the door of his apartment unfolded, for me to appear before him.

He beckoned me to advance; I did, bending at every ſtep; and as I approached the carpet, where his armed chair was placed, in which he reclined, I was awed. I conſidered myſelf in the time of the Roman mythology, entering into the Inner Temple, where the tutelar deity was enſhrined.

The good, the great, the wonderful man, all affability in his ſmile, all condeſcenſion in his geſture, was thus moſt graciouſly pleaſed to announce his will unto me, one of his unworthy dependants.

N. B. As his honour ſpoke to me, he was putting a piece of braſs wire into a guinea-pig's ear; on account of ſome philoſophical experiment, I ſuppoſe.

CONNOISSEUR. Your wife, Mr. Trip, is a vaſt intelligent being, and one for whom I have an immenſe regard.

I bowed — indeed, I bowed at every word I had conferred upon me; for, by the obſervations I have been empowered to make, in the politeſt, grandeſt aſſemblies of my ſuperiors, I have noted, a bow, and a ſmile, and a curtſy, and a [Page 156] ſimper, are the general anſwers and explications to almoſt every addreſs.

My patron, having ſet down the guinea-pig; pulled out his ear-picker; and, as he uſed it, thus delivered himſelf.

You are going, Mr. Trip, to enjoy a happineſs, which very few geniuſes ever enjoyed; or is it fit they ſhould. You will be provided for, according to your merit, by having a place; but it muſt be accepted on certain conditions.

AUTHOR. May it pleaſe your generoſity — you may be certain of my coming into any conditions. I hope you will find, I poſſeſs as proper a ductility of mind, as any other writer, your mightineſs has been pleas'd to make penſionary.
CONNOISSEUR. Your ſpeak, Sir, as every man of ſenſe ought to ſpeak. By men of ſenſe, I don't mean thoſe wretches, who pretend to be clever, without having ſhoes to their feet, or dare to arraign the conduct of their betters; yet have not as much earth of their own, as will ſerve to bury them. They, Mr. Trip, ſhould be puniſhed; they ſhall ſtarve for their contumacy: but be you conformable; you ſhall find your account in it. You are a man of ſenſe; your underſtanding, I don't doubt, is clear, ripe, and ſtrong; that is, clear enough to diſtinguiſh what is for your own intereſt; ripe enough to be ready for any thing; and ſtrong enough not to be biaſs'd by any of thoſe beggar-making bubbles of public ſpirit. [Page 157] Love, gratitude, friendſhip, freedom; thoſe, and other ſuch like terms, Mr. Trip, are only tubs toſs'd out for the whale, and which the hydra MOB call the harmonies and ſympathies of the ſoul. Next, you are to take care that, in your future writings, you rail againſt the liberty of printing, call it the licentiouſneſs of the preſs. You are alſo to endeavour to inculcate the doctrine of non-reſiſtance; and to argue ſtrenuouſly for the eligibility of arbitrary power. Laſtly; you muſt give up all your friends, relations, and acquaintance to me, Mr. Trip.
AUTHOR. Your honour may be aſſured, that not one of your honour's writers can give up more for your ſervice, than I will; or do more any how. Becauſe, thank God, Providence has bleſs'd me, with as copious a talent for abuſe, as for panegyrick. I know, may it pleaſe your honour, and with all reſpect to your univerſal ſcientific conceptions — I know, as well how to vilify, as to compoſe a dedication; and if my play—
CONNOISSEUR. To-morrow, Mr. Trip, you ſhall go under inſtructions, for a foot walk in the exciſe; for no genius ſhall be unrewarded by me; ſuch, I mean who are modeſt, and know themſelves. But as you will now be ſettled for life,—you muſt relinquiſh all acquaintance, with what are called clever-fellows; they are dangerous companions, rebellious reipublican ſpirits, who [Page 158] have the inſolence, not only to think about us; but even are profane enough, to give their opinions concerning how things are, and how things ſhould be? However, you have a better way of thinking; and therefore keep company only with thoſe, who have nothing to do, and as little to ſay, and taſte the benefits of that tranquil indifference, which hardly any, but thoſe who have their fortunes made for them, are ever acquainted with.

I bowed; to the ground I bowed, and haſtened home; happy to think, I ſhould ſoon be able to lead an uniform, ſteady, and obedient life, go to bed, get up, dine, ſup, and ſo forth, always in one way, at ſuch, and ſuch ſtated hours; and never make any attempts at wit or humour, or concern myſelf with the merits and diſtreſſes, for the future, of my fellow-creatures; becauſe I ſhould arrive ſoon at that glorious ſtate of inſipidity, and diſſipation, in which I had often ſeen many, of what are called the gay part of the world, indulge themſelves.

Being thus provided for, by his excellency, I humbly take my leave of the public; ſorry I could not finiſh this work; but more ſorry, for ſome other of my works, wherein I have endeavoured to be witty and comical; for which I moſt ſubmiſſively beg pardon, of all gentlefolks in general, from the higheſt of the betitled, unto the loweſt of their door-keepers, and promiſe, for the future, to be as dull as the beſt of them.

Yet, well as I can, to expiate in ſome meaſure for former offences, I propoſe a ſcheme, to prevent authors, attempting either humour, or wit, in what they write, for the future, viz.

[Page 159] As ſome part of the army is to be diſbanded; if thoſe perſons, who in the camp are the hangmen of the army, and called the provoſt guard; and if the moſt active of the drummers, who have had the moſt practiſe in whipping, during the late war, were not to be ſent adrift, but incorporated in the regiment of reforming conſtables, this ſcheme, with the other common methods of turn out, and ſtarve ſcoundrel, what's your wife and ten children to me, would preſerve the POLICE of this kingdom for the future in proper ſubordination, and writers on the wrong ſide of the queſtion be taught reſpect.

FAREWELL.

N. B. The proprietors of the copy of this hiſtory having been at a great expence for Plates and Authors, hope the Town will encourage the aſſiduity, with which they have laboured to find out a perſon capable of finiſhing this work; becauſe, by the firſt Editor's preferment, this DRAMATIC PERFORMANCE—a work ſo very eſſential towards bettering the underſtanding of every reader, whoſe penetration can unaenigmatiſe the foregoing pages, muſt have been poſtponed, ſine die. The loſs which that would have been to the public, can never be eſtimated.

CANNON.
To the READER,

IT is with reluctance that I agreed to finiſh the Memoirs of this Comedian; becauſe I am not in amity with any Theatrical Profeſſors—having met with ſevere uſage from the ſuperiors of that Fraternity.

At the age of 19 I did a Tragedy, not acted it, I mean (for I was always above being a player) but wrote one; which had not the leaſt bankruptcy among the unities; and therefore I aſſured myſelf, I muſt have great credit for my manufactory.

As to making intereſt, to have my tragedy recommended; though I was told, it was the only way to go to work; yet, being bigotted too much to the excellence of my piece, I deſpiſed ſuch advice; and was aſſured, within my own [Page 166] mind, that it would be put into rehearſal by the manager, upon his firſt reading it.

But multa cadunt, &c.

However, by uſing the ſame chandlers-ſhop, I got acquainted with a young lady, whoſe ſiſter was dreſſer to a very celebrated actreſs.

She invited me to drink tea with her ſiſter, the dreſſer, to whom I read my play; who approved of it mightily; becauſe, as ſhe obſerved, there was not much dreſſing in it.

I had the honour of being introduced to the lady, her miſtreſs, who received me with pecular deportment; which, as Gil Blas obſerves, moſt of the ladies theatrical put on to ſtrangers, eſpecially if the viſitors are foot people.

She ſtared at me, when I came into her room, ſo much, that I was prodigiouſly out of countenance (a fault, of which even detraction will deny I am often guilty.)

But recollecting it is the common look, which ladies bear, both on and off the ſtage, when they condeſcended to SEE their inferiors, I began to come to myſelf.

After I had been ſurveyed, as much as ſhe thought it conſiſtent with her dignity, to obſerve me, ſhe tinkled a ſilver hand-bell; and, on the maid's entrance, the lady, in a moſt delicate accent, ordered her ſervant to take the footſtool, which the actreſs was then reſting one foot upon,—carry it there, thus the lady pointing to the corner of the room, ordered; put my footſtool there; that the man (pointing to me) may ſet upon it, and read his play to me, and bring my eau-deluce, and my aether bottle.

[Page 167] Then, in the moſt engaging attitude, ſhe reclined herſelf upon the couch, on which ſhe had before been ſeated, and looked like one of thoſe fine figures at the print ſhops, of Venus, or a Madona, or ſome ſinging or dancing lady in a repoſe, And thoſe graving and etchings are done by ſome great man, or after ſome great man's manner, as we are told in the catalogues by auctioneers and picture-dealers, who have ſuch univerſal capacities, it is impoſſible for them to be miſtaken.

They are the loadſtones of connoiſſeurſhip. The only judges of genius. Counſellors of taſte. Determiners of merit. Interpreters of ſcience; and leading-ſtrings, baits, bits, curbs, ſpurs, whips, wheels, levers, pullies, and primum mobiles, for every lady and gentleman of fortune, who chuſe to be trammell'd into taſte, and be ambled about as connoiſſeur's hobby-horſes.

Before I had read a page of my play, the lady interrupted me, finding great fault with my tones, with my emphaſis, and my accents.

Swinging herſelf off the couch, ſhe aroſe with a graceful dignity, becoming a Penelope; the gold fringe of her ſlippers playing to her feet, her ſilk train ſweeping along the carpet; then flouriſhing her white handkerchief, the lady ſpoke three or four ſpeeches of Caliſta, to ſhow me how people ought to deliver tragedy. After that, when ſhe had again ſeated herſelf, as ſhe looked into the lid of her patch-box, ſhe enquired if I had ſeen her play all her characters, and which I liked her beſt in.

My reply was (for I had a hint given me, not to be ſparing of compliments) that where every one [Page 168] was excellent, it was impoſſible to perceive an inferiority.

She ſmiled, with the utmoſt complacency, upon me; ſhe took my MSS. promiſed me it ſhould be done, and ſuffered me, kneeling, to ſalute the back of her hand, as I took my leave; but meeting at the door a perſon very richly dreſſed, I was ordered to walk in again.

This viſitor to the lady was in a velvet coat, embroidered; a gold tiſſue waiſtcoat, embroidered; and every other part of his apparel equally rich. I took particular notice of his watch chain, it was remarkably long, and as remarkably filled; for I counted no leſs than ten various ſeals, and toys in different ſhapes, upon it.

The gentleman was a very eminent haberdaſher, and a great friend of the lady's, as I heard afterwards. He ſtared at me alſo; full as much as I had been ſtared at before—then turning to the gentlewoman, he aſked her, in very ill pronounced French, Who the Devil I was?

She replied, an author.

I thought ſo, he replied, ſtill in French; and ſwore a great oath, at the ſame time—I thought he was a ſhabby genius, of ſome ſort, or another—but now my angel we'll have ſome fun with this fellow, I ha'ant roaſted a ſcribbler a great while: for damn me, if theſe authors, not one in a hundred of um, have any thing to ſay to a gentleman as they ſhould do; becauſe they are blockheads, and ought to be caned, kicked, or dragged through a horſe-pond; for what buſineſs have they to think about their betters.

I would not diſcover to him or the lady, that what they ſaid in French, was underſtood by [Page 169] me; but allowed him to the length of his tether, without interruption; and he accordingly aſſumed all that contemptuous behaviour, that unworthy inſolence, which the wearers of fine cloaths conceit they have a power to beſtow on the wearers of plain ones.

Hear what their honours ALL ſay.

Every perſon muſt be a ſcoundrel, a Lyar, pitiful, illiterate, damned contemptible, deſpicable, filthy, fulſome, horrid, vile, vulgar, baſe, odious, and one of the MOB, who is not a perſon of fortnne, faſhion or family,—vide the world.

The fine dreſſed gentleman haberdaſher feating himſelf by the lady, his leg acroſs her lap, putting one hand to his ſide, and with the other chinking the ſeals at his watch chain—yawn'd— then leaned back—yawn'd again—then bending ſuddenly forward, fixed his eyes full upon me; ſeeming, as Falſtaff, ſays, to awe with a ſtare.

GENTLEMAN HABERDASHER. And ſo, Sir,—this lady tells me you have— got—yawn—that you have got, looking at his ſhirt boſom buckle—that you have—yawn again—heigho—have got a play, Sir,—pray, Sir, where was you bred up, pray?
AUTHOR. At Leyden.
[Page 170] GENT. HABERDASHER. What, among the Dutch? drole enough, faith—a fine place to make plays in—butter, cheeſe, and Holland's gin are three fine ingredients for poetry—ha, ha, ha,—I ſuppoſe all the ladies in your piece are Dutch fros — yes, by g—d, I'll hold fifty on't, and all the fine gentleman, or mynheer-love-makers, if they quarrel, inſtead of drawing their ſwords, go to ſnicker de ſnee with one another.
LADY. Dear, Mr. Caddus; my God!—I am immenſely aſhamed of you; how can you ſhock a gentleman ſo?
GENT. HABERDASHER. Shock the gentleman; no, faith, he knows too much of the world for that; and I keep company at the Bedford, ſo often with the beſt writers in England—that ſure, my dear, I muſt know how to behave to authors. Well, Sir, and ſo at Leyden you ſay — I ſuppoſe you ſtudied the oriental ſciences there?
AUTHOR. The oriental languages, Sir?
GENT. HABERDASHER. No, Sir, I mean the oriental ſciences— I believe, I am too much acquainted with both [Page 171] ſciences, and languages, to miſtake one for t'other. The oriental arts and ſciences, I mean; as to the oriental languages, I re'd um all, and every one, from the teutonick down to old Homer's Iliad, Odyſſey, and his Telemachus.
LADY. Pon my honour, Caddy, you muſt have had a vaſt education, my dear, to read ſo much, and remember things ſo.
GENT. HABERDASHER. Faith, I never re'd much, po' my onner— I was rather a buck at ſchool.—But I had a quicker way of ſtudy, I believe, than any other fellow ever had in the world—but a— Mr. Author—and ſo—don't you never write no ſongs?
AUTHOR. Sometimes, Sir.
GENT. HABERDASHER. O, then we'll have a ſong; come, Sir, ſing one to the lady.
AUTHOR. Indeed, Sir, I can't ſing—I can't indeed, Sir.
[Page 172] GENT. HABERDASHER. Nay, Sir, but I inſiſt on it, to oblige the lady—to whom he then ſaid in French, I know the fellow can't ſing, 'cauſe I've heard him attempt it among Comus' court; but that is the fun on't, we'll make him expoſe himſelf.
LADY
reply'd in French.
For God's ſake, my dear Merchant, don't aſk him; I ſhall die with his noiſe; I am expiring with the head-ach already. — He ſing! I am certain, poor Devil, he looks ſo down in the mouth, that he could only hymn the hundred Pſalm, or a hanging ſtave for a Tyburn Penitent, on an Execution-day.
GENT. HABERDASHER,
in French ſtill.
Bravo, braviſſimo, my angel—you have more wit than all the world.—Then bid him tell us a merry ſtory, or deſire he'll ſay ſomething clever. Oh, damn it, that does for theſe genuiſſes at once.
LADY,
in ditto.
He looks ſo diſconſolate, he ſhocks me—
GENT. HABERDASHER,
ditto repeated.
Well now, you ſhall have a drole ſcene, my [...].
[Page 173] Then, in Engliſh.
And ſo, Sir, I ſuppoſe you live by writing?
AUTHOR. I endeavour to maintain myſelf and family, Sir, by every exertion of my ſmall capacity, that honeſty and induſtry will warrant.
GENT. HABERDASHER. And pray, Sir, what can you get a year by writing?
AUTHOR. As to that, Sir—
GENT. HABERDASHER. Ay, as to that, Sir—Oh, mum, a word to the wiſe is enough—You are not willing to confeſs, becauſe you are afraid I ſhould want to borrow a hundred of you.—Why, Sir, my credit's pretty good; and if you was to lend me a cool thouſand, I'd give you 4 per cent. and an eighth for it; I ſuppoſe, Sir, you are too converſant with the ſtocks, to be ignorant what that is a year?
LADY. Lord, my dear—
[Page 174] GENT. HABERDASHER.
In French, encore.
Nay, my angel, let me alone; for, upon my ſoul, if gentlemen were not now and then thus to mortify theſe fellows, and make them aſhamed of themſelves, for not having money, there would be no bearing them. I have a great mind to ſhow him an eighteen ſhilling piece, and a guinea, and ax him, what's the difference? I'll hold ſix to four, he don't gueſs the firſt time.
LADY. Let me periſh then, but you will be immenſely wrong, and barbarouſly abſurd; you ſee, he turns pale, and red, every minute; I'm ſure he's hurt enough already.
GENT. HABERDASAER. Well, mum then, I ſuppoſe, Sir, in your play, you have been critically exact, in the preſervation of the unities; and you have ſeen what Ariſtotle and Boſſu ſays upon that ſubject; for that's what I blame Shakeſpear for; the fellow had a fine knack at metaphor, faith, but he never underſtood the unities: now if he had but have been a ſcholar, and could have read what Ariſtotle and Boſſu ſays.
AUTHOR. Ariſtotle, to the beſt of my remembrance, ſays—
[Page 175] GENT. HABERDASHER. Ay, I know as well as you do what—but that's nothing now to the purpoſe, what either Ariſtotle, or his Brother the Stagyrite, ſays—I ſpeak how things ſhould be done. Dam it, there's nobody, but gentlemen, that can either write or judge, for that matter. I wiſh it was not quite ſo damned ſcandalous to be either an author, or a ſcholar. There are about twelve of us that would and could reſtore the Drama to that original purity, which the divine Plato, the preceptor of Socrates and Plautus, ſays, the ſtage ought to be preſerved in.
AUTHOR. Under favour, Sir, I did not think Plato was much attach'd to dramatic poetry, any more than he was to Homer; whom I can't think he uſes ſo well.
GENT. HABERDASHER. What doesn't Plato uſe Homer well?—that's falſe, Mr. Author, you muſt allow me to tell you —I beg pardon, but I know better—why Plato is the beſt friend Homer ever had.
AUTHOR. But I mean, Sir, that Plato, who was diſciple to Socrates.
[Page 176] GENT. HABERDASHER. Pho, pho, Mr. Author, we an't to be humm'd ſo, neither; you're deviliſhly out; there never was but one Plato, and he taught Socrates all he know'd; and if you have a mind for a bett, you ſhall have your ſum on't. This Plato, my dear Betſy, was cotempre with the firſt primitive fathers.
LADY. Pray, my dear, were they poets or playwriters.
GENT. HABERDASHER. No, my dear, they were what was called the Chriſtian philoſophers, in oppoſition to the heathen philoſophers; and this Socrates we have been talking of he was burned for his religion, becauſe he turned chriſtian.
LADY. Let me periſh, my dear, if your memory isn't aſtoniſhing; I ſhall be jealous by and by, that you have ſo much learning in your head, it muſt prevent you from thinking of me.
GENT. HABERDASHER. Never, by all that's ſoft, I ſwear, upon which be kiſſed the lady, and turned to me, with a look of [Page 177] happy conſequence, as much as to tell me, what would you give, could you do ſo? I ſuppoſe, Mr. Author, that you muſt have heard of Sophocles and Empedocles.
AUTHOR. Yes, Sir.
GENT. HABERDASHER. I re'd all their works at college, both their Tragedies and Comedies; and though I never look'd into um ſince, I only wiſh I had a hundred on't, that I couldn't ſay um all by heart, without miſſing an apoſtrophe. And ſo, I ſuppoſe, you have heard of Terence and Euripides, and Lucan's true hiſtory. Swift ſtole every line of Gulliver from him, to my knowledge.
LADY. Well, this converſation is to me immenſely agreeable, and dear Caddy, you are the moſt ſurpriſing creature.
GENT. HABERDASHER. My ſoul's affection, I do believe, nay, without vanity, I am ſure on't, that if I had a mind to't, I could have made a greater figure as a ſcholar, or a writer, than any on um. But I was always above ſuch ſlovenly pedantic notions; authors are very well, when a man has a mind to make a lady a preſent of a ſong, or an acroſ [...]ic; why then ſuch fellows are uſeful; becauſe [Page 178] they take the trouble of compoſing theſe things off of a gentleman's hands; and books, now and then of a rainy day, are well enough; but at other times, they are damned low dull ſtuff.—But I beg pardon, Mr. Author, for talking French ſo.
AUTHOR. Oh, Sir, a gentleman has a right to converſe in what language he pleaſes.
GENT. HABERDASHER. That's true, Sir, and therefore you and I now will have a little Latin together—You remember Horace, his advice about diſcipline. ‘Qui mihi Diſcipulus Puer es cupis atque doceri,’
AUTHOR. Sir, I beg to be excuſed, but that is not in Horace.
GENT. HABERDASHER. Not Horace—that's a fine hum, indeed, not Horace: what the Devil, ſure I know Horace a little better than you. I thought I ſhould find you out—why, doesn't he go on, and ſay, ‘Hoc ades huc Amino, concupedictis tuo.’

[Page 179] Up then he ſtarted, looked in the peer glaſs, and ſtroked his eye-brows gently.

The lady, at that inſtant, ſtanding with her back to him, told me,—Sir, this gentleman is a prodigious ſcholar, and you muſt ſubmit to him in theſe things, I aſſure you. But I could ſee, that ſhe winked at me while ſhe ſaid this. I would have taken the hint, but fleſh and Blood could not bear to give up Horoce to Qui mihi. Emboldened by the lady's ſignal, I told him, that perhaps, as gentlemen were not obliged to read ſo much as authors were, his memory might not be—

GENT. HABERDASHER. O dam it, Sir, as to that, I have a better memory than any man in England, and thoſe two lines I ſpoke are Horace's, and I'll bet you 50 l. on't; and out he pulled a green purſe, ſeemingly full of money; which, in his eagerneſs, he let fall upon the tea-table, and broke a cup and ſaucer, belonging to a ſet of French china, that had been preſented to the lady by a former lover; and which ſet ſhe told the gentleman, ſhe would not have had deſtroyed for 500 pounds.

A ſtrange ſcene of altercation enſued, reproaches roſe high between them—until the gallant, ſwore ſeveral of the moſt horrid oaths, profaneneſs could put together, that he never would ſpeak to her again; and hurried out of the room, bouncing the door after him, as violently, as if, like Sampſon, he would ſhake the houſe down about us.

[Page 180] After the paſſionate departure of her friend, the lady addreſſed herſelf to me—but in a manner, different from that ſhe received me with.

Affectation was away—the haughtineſs of the actreſs was baniſhed; and only the fine woman of affability appeared.

Deſiring me to ſit down, with a look, that ſpoke the moſt delicate ſenſibility; the lady told me—I believe, Sir, I am not the only perſon in this room, whom the hot-headed man, that has juſt left it, made uneaſy this morning; for if I gueſs right, your face told me, you underſtood every thing he ſaid to me in French about you.

AUTHOR. Indeed, madam, I underſtood every ſyllable.
LADY. I thought ſo, by heavens! I thought ſo, I admire your behaviour, Sir, and will endeavour to recompence you, for the pain of mind I am conſcious you muſt have endured; too much I feel of that myſelf; what are all diamonds, equipage, fine furniture, and elegance of dreſs, when the mind, retreating into itſelf, ſhrinks back aſhamed to reflect on the means by which thoſe are purchaſed. Yet I muſt act the hypocrite, I muſt conform—conform to thoſe I hate, nay worſe—bear with rich ſtupidity, applaud with ſeeming attention, arrogant dulneſs; and flatter, even fondly flatter, indelicate folly. Sure of all ſlavery, mine is the worſt! where the will is not left free; what is—

[Page 181] Thus ſhe gave vent to her reflections; as ſhe walked up and down the room, tears following one another, down the damaſk of her cheeks, tranſparent as dew drops, upon the roſe leaf.

At that moment, her lover, the gentleman haberdaſher returned, and diſcovering her crying, run to her, took her in his arms, forced her to the ſettee, and kneeling down before her, begged her to forgive him; deſiring her to accept of a ring he held out to her, and vowing, that had he known his leaving her ſo abruptly, would have ſo deeply affected her, he would not have done it for all the world.

The lady's face at this time ſeemed agitated with aſtoniſhment, and diſdain, by turns; but I had not an opportunity any longer to obſerve it. Her friend addreſſing me that inſtant, with, you'll excuſe us this morning Mr. Writer, I ſhall be glad to ſee you ſome other time.

Exit. Cannon.

The DEDICATORY SPECIMEN.

Aſſured of my play being preſented, I ſought ſome time for a proper perſon to dedicate it to; one from whom I could expect the greateſt advantages; one, who could do me great ſervice, if I did but properly apply myſelf, and blazon forth his merits to the WORLD.

I had a ſufficient quantity of matter by me which I had abſtracted from the Greek, Roman, and French panegyricks; and alſo from the works of moſt of our beſt writers, upon religion; from whom I had borrowed the choiceſt phraſes, which they made uſe of in their addreſſes to the Divinity. All theſe things I had [Page 182] ready marſhalled, to appear in rank and file, before the public, in behalf of my patron, as ſoon as I could find one.

Being for ſome time troubled with bad eyes, becauſe the room where I write, lay, and cook my victuals, ſmokes terribly; and as I dread blindneſs more than any other diſtemper, I gave up all thoughts of baiting my works with great mens defence, and turn penſion or place fiſher.

I conſidered my natural defects ought to be firſt remedied; therefore to the OCCULIST CHEVALIER TAYLOR, SENIOR, I addreſſed the following dedication.

TO THE PRIME GENIUS Of this AGE; Profeſſor of the Art of Teaching the Paſſions, and unparallelled Adventurer.

[Page 183]

SIR,

THE Performance I here offer to the Public, under the Sanction of your Name, is an extraordinary Work, and therefore ſhould be addreſſed to an extraordinary Man.

You have diſtinguiſhed yourſelf as ſuch through the whole Courſe of an unblameable Life.

[Page 184] A Friend to the Ladies you have been, as your Works confeſs; but your Love of them has ariſen from your being able to taſte their genuine Beauties.

No Countryman of yours, or of any other great Man can I be—I was born at Sea.—National flattery therefore am I free from—I only do ſcanty Juſtice to the Man, not only as a Man, but alſo a Miniſter, or Adminiſtrator of the greateſt of Bleſſings, and which concludes the Happineſs of a whole People.

You have opened the Eyes of all the World; taught both Sexes to look about them; placed them perſpectively in a proper Point of Sight to ſee, and alſo to be ſeen.

Though ſome Perſons may blame you—as Blackguards will be abuſive—don't mind the Mob now—a hundred Years hence you'll be out of the Hearing on't—then you'll have (and a fine Satisfaction it is to be told on't) what no Popularity can [Page 185] give —no temporary Wants deſtroy—you will then have every Thing in the World a Dedicator can beſtow upon you; for who the Devil dare contradict him?

The Day you was born (if eyer that Day was) was the brighteſt Period of Britiſh Glory.

The Doubt I have of your Birth, ariſes from my ſuppoſing you to be the unborn Doctor; one who ſprung ſpontaneous among us—to be—ay, or not to be; juſt what himſelf and the conſcious Rectitude of a right Mind pleaſes.

In the political Science of Perſpective—the Point of Sight, Point of Diſtance, and vaniſhing Line, properly inveſtigated, are as follows;

The Point of Sight is Preferment.

The Point of Diſtance, is what Length your Patron will go to ſerve you.

The vaniſhing Line is Hope.

All theſe multiplied in a proper Modus, form

Mr. Hogarth's Line of Beauty.

[Page 186] And that Praiſe, in all its Parts, as well as in the whole, for the honour of every Country, is almoſt excluſively your own:

Therefore, to the Importance of your Mightineſs, Proſtrate at the Threſhold of your Munificence, Do I Aſiatically bow my Head; Hallelujahing your Honour, and Honours; And may your ſcientific Brow, Nod Benignly, On the Inſignificancy Of your moſt humble, And moſt ſubmiſſive Servant, and Slave, The AUTHOR.

Firſt Chapter of the Continuation of the Hiſtory of NEDDY, &c.
How Maſter Edward was to be brought up.

[Page 187]

THE morning following the goſſipping ſcene. David and his lady, at breakfaſt, conſulted together upon the moſt proper methods for educating their ſon and heir.

DAVID. To be ſure, and indeed, my dear wife, I do ſuppoſe you will ſuckle the child yourſelf.
Mrs. LLWHUDDWHYDD. You do? then, my dear, you are guilty of a very indelicate ſuppoſition. Are ladies of faſhion to turn wet-nurſes, and have their heads horridly diſtracted by the noiſe of the nurſery, or vapoured to death with cradle-rockings? is it taſte? — I aſk you, my dear, upon your honour, is it taſte, for me, who come of ſuch a family as I am come from, to have a child dangling at my breaſt, as beggars carry their brats. Nay, is it for your honour, your wife ſhould appear ſo? you, who come of ſo good a family.
DAVID. Yes, thank God; and good providence, I do come of the moſt ancienteſt family, that ever was born.
Mrs. LLWHUDDWHYDD. There, my dear, you muſt be wrong; immenſely wrong, upon my honour.—Your family may be the more ancienter in England; but my family is from America; we were the anceſtors of five original nations of the SENEKAS, from whom came the CHIKASAS, from whom [Page 188] came the CATAWAWS, from whom came the CHEROKEES.
DAVID. But I tell you my family is the moſt ancienteſt in the world; ay, and in America to boot; for they did go into the Ark, as game-keepers to ſquire Noah; and his worſhip's ſon did marry queen Winifred; and from whom came the Cadwalladers; and from whom came the Tudors; and from whom came the Llwhuyddwhuydds.
She Ay, and from my family came the Cherokee, and the
Both together. Rikketis, and the Mohawks, and the Tomahawks.
He. And from mine the ap Morgaus, ap Jenkins, ap Rice, ap Jones, ap

Then they raiſed their voices at the ſame time, louder and louder, until out of breath, and black in the face, they ſtood ſpeechleſs, ſtaring at one another, like a pair of pitted turkeycocks.

The lady firſt recovered, and giving her huſband a look, blended with ſcorn and reproach, that look, which fine women know ſo well how to wear (beating a tatoo with her feet, and hitting the tea-ſpoon upon the edge of a ſaucer) thus ſhe addreſſed him.

I am ſorry, Sir, that I ſhould ſo far forget myſelf, as to contend with you about families. Upon my honour, I ſhall, for the future, take care how I ever enter into any ſuch arguments with you, and immediately fell into a violent fit of the ſullens.

Had I but time to analyſe that diſtemper, and point out the methods of cure, how happy ſhould I [Page 189] make many huſbands? but a more intereſting ſcene preſents itſelf, viz.

David, kneeling at his wife's feet, moſt pathetically begging her to be good to him, to ſpeak to him, to look at him, or let him take hold of her hand.

But all his addreſs was vain—vain, as the petition diſtreſs preſents; vain, as the hopes of wit; or pretenſions of undower'd beauty and virtue.

Mr. Llwhuddwhuydd was forced, before the preliminaries could be ſigned, to give up (upon his knees) every original branch of his family, and allow, both lineally and collaterally, the ſuperiority of his lady's anceſtry.

Mrs. LLWHUDDWHUYDD. I beg, my dear huſband, now you'll riſe, — I chuſe it—there's my hand, I offer it to you as a token, I don't take any thing ill,—I forget and forgive; it is taſte to do ſo; and I'll ſuffer death, before I would be impolite. But pray, huſband, how will you have our child brought up?
DAVID. He ſhall be put to ſchool, as ſoon as he goes into breeches; and he ſhall be kept at learning, Latin and Greek for 12 or 14 years, to be ſure; becauſe I will have him a great ſcholar, and then I will bind him prentice—
Mrs. LLWHUDDWHUYDD. No, excuſe me—he may be a ſcholar, indeed; I am not againſt that; becauſe, perhaps one day, or another, ſuch a thing may be taſte. But I renounce his being 'prentice, there's ſomething ſo vulgar in it, — no, let him go into the army. I am certain, that as you have carried [Page 190] ſuch a number of people of faſhion, for ſo many years; and as they are under great obligations to you, for the care you have always took of them, they would not deny you ſuch a ſmall favour, as to give your ſon a commiſſion.
DAVID. But for all that, my dear, I would have him a ſcholar: ay, he ſhall be a genius too.
Mrs. LLWHYDDWHUYDD. Dear Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd, I ſhall faint at the very name of a genius—my God! a genius!—what ſhall my eldeſt ſon, the hopes of two ſuch families as ours, be made a genius? why, at beſt a genius can but be a jack of all trades; and as to his making his fortune by genius; why, you may as well ſay, the ſun ſhines at midnight. Is not every genius deſpiſed by the politeſt people; do not the perſons of quality call creatures ſo out of contempt, my God! did you ever know any body of faſhion a genius — no, Mr. Llwhuddwhuydd, inſtead of bringing your ſon up a genius, let him be a gentleman; let him keep gentlemen company, not but, I muſt ſay, if his genius could turn to politics—
DAVID. And pleaſe God ſo it ſhall; I will bind him 'prentice to a politician; and when he is out of his time, he can ſet up for himſelf, and provide for his relations.
Enter MISS SHRED and DOCTOR NOSTRUM.
Miſs SHRED. Dear creatures, excuſe me coming in ſo ſuddenly—but I promiſed, you know, laſt night, to bring a great phyſician, and my friend, to prevent your ſon, Mr. David, ever feeling any [Page 191] pain, or being in any danger, while he was cutting his teeth—give me leave, therefore, to introduce the only man in the world, that has any ſort of ſkill, to you,—he knows more than the whole college of doctors put together; and they envy'd him—ſo they wou'dn' give him his degrees without his undergoing an examination—but he was above that; therefore he went down to Edinburgh—there they knew better—he had his certificate ſigned at once, and now he practices here, in ſpite of all the London doctors—and what is very wonderful, he took phyſick entirely out of his own head, for he never was brought up to it.
DAVID. No.
DOCTOR. No, Sir, I diſcovered it all myſelf—I ſcorn'd to be taught. I deſpiſe all the fellows of the faculty, they are ignorant pretenders, I have a genius above them all.
DAVID: Ay, Ay, that's the thing—a genius—for a genius is above all learning, look you, as much as God is above the Devil, bleſs us!
DOCTOR. Ladies, let me beg your attention, while I plainly demonſtrate to you the nature of childrens teeth-cutting. Hyppocrates and Celſus declare, infants are ſubject to the aphthae, phoboï, diarrhaeas and paroxyſms upon cutting their canine teeth. Hernius tells us of inflammatory tonſils, tumours of the parotid glands, or ſaturiaſmoi, which may be, I think, the achor. — Now Aetius ſays,—
[Page 192] DAVID. Never mind what Mr. Aetius ſays, Sir, no more than an cracked chair-pole; for you do ſay ſuch fine things yourſelf about Hyppocrates, that I would give all I was worth in the world, if I could but talk ſo learnedly.
DOCTOR. This lady's— (pulling a phial out of his pocket) this is the MAGNETICA TINCTURA SACRA; the LOADSTONE ELIXIR; or ANODYNE SPECIFIC. With this, if you waſh the infant's feet, it will attract all the morbid, foul and peccant humours from the child's head, and your ſon ſhall cut his teeth as eaſily—as—as—
DAVID. Ay, it ſtands to reaſon, as eaſy as I can cut an onion—it muſt—I have read about loadſtones—and my magazines do tell me about Sir Iſaac Newton's attraction. Yes, yes, well God help me, I have ſtudied and ſtudied a great deal, yet never can be a great man, becauſe, doctor, I have not a genius.

Which obſervation we beg the reader will memento, and endeavour to become a genius; it is a ſure and certain eſtate to him; as for example, this doctor Noſtrum, to whom, and the reſt of the Noſtrumiſts, who, without underſtanding or experience, education or capacity, ſo publickly advertiſe, and vend their unwholeſome compoſitions to the detriment of the credulous multitude, and reproach of thoſe, who have power to prevent ſuch ſcandalous impoſtors.

FINIS.
Notes
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We have endeavoured at the true magazine ſtile; it may ſeem tautalogous, but our readers muſt know the neceſſity, thoſe monthly productions lay under, to make uſe of many words; they, like ſtage coaches, being obliged to ſet out to their time, full, or empty.
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We ſuppoſe ſhe means tête a tête.
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The Methodiſts have all night-meetings, called Love-feaſts.