SCENE I.-MRS. MECHLIN's House. [Loud Knocking at the Door.] Enter JENNY. ACT I. Jen. Rap, rap, rap! up stairs and down, from morning to night!-if this same commissary stays much longer amongst us, my inistress must e'en hire a porter. Who's there? Sim. [Without.] Is Mrs. Mechlin at home? Jen. No. [Opens the Door.] Oh! what, it is you, Simon? Enter SIMON. Sim. At your service, sweet Mrs. Jane. Jen. Why, you knock with authority; and what are your commands, Master Simon? Sim. I come, madam, to receive those of your mistress. What, Jenny, has she any great affair on the anvil? Her summons is most exceedingly pressing; and you need not be told, child, that a man of my consequence does not trouble himself about trifles. Jen. Oh, sir, I know very well you principal actors don't perforin every night. Sim. Mighty well, ma'am! but, notwithstanding your ironical sneer, it is not every man that will do for your mistress; her agents must have genius and parts: I don't suppose, in the whole bills of mortality, there is so general and extensive a dealer as my friend Mrs. Mechlin. Jen. Why, to be sure, we have plenty of customers, and for various kinds of commodities; it would be pretty difficult, I fancy, to Sim. Commodities! Your humble servant, sweet Mrs. Jane; yes, yes, you have various kinds of commodities, indeed. Jen. Mr. Simon, I don't understand you; I suppose it is no secret in what sort of goods our dealing consists? Sim. No, no; they are pretty well known. Jen. And, to be sure, though now and then, to oblige a customer, my mistress does condescend to smuggle a little Sim. Keep it up, Mrs. Jane! Jen. Yet there are no people in the liberty of Westminster, that live in more credit than we do. Jen. Very well! then pray, sir, what would you insinuate? Look you, Mr. Simon, don't go to cast reflections upon us; don't think to blast the reputation of our Sim. Hark ye, Jenny, are you serious? Sim. The devil you are! Jen. Upon my word, Mr. Simon, you should not give your tongue such a licence; let me tell you, these airs do not become you at all. Sim. Hey-day! why, where the deuce have I got? Sure, I have mistaken the house; is not this Mrs. Mechlin's? Jen. That's pretty well known. Sim. The commodious, convenient Mrs. Mechlin, at the sign of the Star, in the parish of St. Paul's? Jen. Bravo! Sim. That commercial caterpillar? Jen. I know it. Sim. That murderer of manufacturers? Jen. Doubtless. Sim. That walking warehouse? Jen. Granted. Sim. That carries about a greater cargo of contraband goods under her petticoats than a Calais cutter? Jen. Very well, Sim. That engrosser and seducer of virgins? Sim. That canting, cozening, money-lending, match-making, pawnbroking[Loud knocking. Jen. Mighty well, sir! here comes my mistress; she shall thank you for the pretty picture you have been pleased to draw. Sim. Nay, but, dear Jenny Jen. She shall be told how lightly she stands in your favour. Sim. But, my sweet girl [Knock again. Jen. Let me go, Mr. Simon? don't you hear? Sim. And can you have the heart to ruin me at once? Jen. Hands off! Sim. A peace, a peace, my dear Mrs. Jane, and dictate the articles. Enter MRS. MECHLIN, followed by a HackneyCoachman, with several bundles, in a capu chin, a bonnet, and her cloaths pinned up. Mrs. Mech. So, hussy! what, must I stay all day in the streets? Who have we here? The devil's in the wenches, I think!-One of your fellows, I suppose- -Oh, is it you? How fares it, Simon? Jen. Madam, you should not have waited a minute; but Mr. Simon Sim. Hush, hush! you barbarous jade. Jen. Knowing your knock, and eager to open the door, flew up stairs, fell over the landingplace, and quite barred up the way. Sim. Yes; and I am afraid I have put out my ancle, Thanks, Jenny; you shall be no loser, you slut. [Aside. Mrs. Mech. Poor Simon! Oh, Lord have mercy upon me, what a round have I taken ?— Is the wench petrified? Why don't you reach me a chair? don't you see I am tired to death? Jen. Indeed, madam, you'll kill yourself. Sim. Upon my word, Madam Mechlin, you should take a little care of yourself; indeed you labour too hard. Mrs. Mech. Ay, Simon, and for little or nothing only victuals and clothes : more cost than worship Why does not the wench take the things from the fellow?Well, what's your fare? Coach. Mistress, 'tis honestly worth half-a sot, to be eternally guzzling? You had better | party has interest enough to obtain it, whenever buy you some some cloaths. he will. And then the bridegroom may put the Coach. No, mistress; my honour won't let purchase-money too of that same presentation me do that. into his pocket. Mrs. Mech. Your honour! And pray how does that hinder you? Coach. Why, when a good gentlewoman like you, cries, Here, coachman, here's something to drink Mrs. Mech. Well! Couch. Would it be honour in me to lay it out in any thing else? No, mistress, my conscience won't let me; because why, 'tis the will of the donor you know. Mrs. Mech. Did you ever hear such a blockhead! Coach. No, no, mistress; though I am a poor man, I won't forfeit my honour; my cattle, thof I love them, poor beastesses, are not more dearer to me than that. Mrs. Mech. Yes, you and your horses give pretty strong proofs of your honour; for you have no cloaths on your back, and they have no flesh. Well, Jenny, give him the sixpenceThere, there lay it out as you will. Coach. It will be to your health, mistress; it shall melt at the Meuse before I go home; I shall be careful to clear my conscience. Mrs. Mech. I don't doubt it. Coach. You need not; Mistress, your servant. [Exit Coach. Mrs Mech. Has there been any body here, Jenny ? Jen. The gentleman, madam, about the Gloucestershire living. Mrs. Mech. He was! Oh, oh! what, I suppose his stomach's come down. Does he like the encumbrance? will he marry the party? Jen. Why, that article seems to go a little against him. Mrs. Mech. Does it so? then let him retire to his Cumberland curacy; that's a fine keen air; it will soon give him an appetite. He'll stick to his honour too, till his cassock is wore to a rag, Jen. Why, indeed, madam, it seems pretty rusty already. Mrs. Mech. Devilish squeamish, I think; a good fat living, and a fine woman into the bargain! You told him a friend of the lady's will take the child off her hands ? Jen. Truly, madam, I should think this would prove the best match for the lady. Mrs. Mech. Who doubts it?-Here, Jenny, carry these things above stairs. Take care of the eigrette, leave the watch upon the table, and be sure you don't mislay the pearl necklace: the lady goes to Mrs. Corneley's to-night; and, if she has any luck, she will be sure to redeem it to-morrow. Sim. What a world of affairs! it is a wonder, madam, how you are able to remember them all. Mrs. Mech. Trifles, mere trifles, Master Simon-But I have a great affair in hand—such an affair, if well managed, will be the making of us all. Sim. If I, madam, can be of the least useMrs. Mech. Of the highest! there's no doing without you-You know the great Enter JENNY. Jen. I have put the things where you ordered madam. Mrs. Mech. Very well, you may go. [Erit that is come to lodge in my house? Now, they JENNY.] I say, you know the great commissary say this Mr. Fungus is as rich as an Indian governor; heaven knows how he came by it; Pretty pickings, I warrant abroad. [Loud but that, you know, is no business of ours. let it be who it will, you must not go till I speak knocking.] Who the deuce can that be? But to you. Enter JENNY. Jen. The widow Loveit, madam. from Devonshire Square? Show her in. [Erit Mrs. Mech. What, the old liquorish dowager, shall soon dispatch her affair. JENNY. You'll wait in the kitchen, Simon; I [Exit SIMON. Enter MRS. LOVEIT. Mrs. Love. So, so, good morning to you, good Mrs. Mechlin! John, let the coach wait at the corner. Mrs. Mech. You had better sit here, madam. Mrs. Love. Any where. Well, my dear woman, I hope, you have not forgot your old friend will-Ugh, ugh, ugh.—[Coughs.] Consider I have no time to lose, and you are always so full of employment. Jen. He promised to call about four. Mrs. Mech. But don't let him think we are at a loss for a husband; there is, to my knowledge, a merchant's clerk in the city, a comely young man, and comes of good friends, that will take her with but a smali place in the customhouse. Mrs. Mech. Forgot you! you shall judge, Mrs. Loveit. I have, madam, provided a whole cargo of husbands for you, of all nations, complexions, ages, tempers, and sizes: so, you see, you have nothing to do but choose. Mrs. Love. To choose, Mrs. Mechlin! Lord Jen. He shall know it. help me! what choice can I have? I look upon Mrs. Mech. Ay, and tell him that the party's wedlock to be a kind of a lottery, and I have already drawn my prize; and a great one it was! | now, of what use to you would be a husband of My poor dear man that's gone, I shall never meet with his fellow. Mrs. Mech. Psha, madam! don't let us trouble our heads about him; 'tis high time that he was forgot. Mrs. Love. But won't his relations think me rather too quick? Mrs. Mech. Not a jot: the greatest compliment you could pay to his memory; it is a proof he gave you reason to be fond of the state. But what do you mean by quick? Why, he has been buried these three weeks Mrs. Love. And three days, Mr. Mechlin. Mrs. Mech. Indeed! quite an age. Mrs. Love. Yes: but I shall never forget him; sleeping or waking, he's always before me. His dear swelled belly, and his poor shrunk legs; Lord bless me, Mrs. Mechlin, he had no more calf than my fan! Mrs. Mech. No! Mrs. Love. No, indeed; and then, his bit of a purple nose, and his little weezen face as sharp as a razor-—— -Don't mention it; I can never forget him. [Cries. Mrs. Mech. Sweet marks of remembrance indeed! But, madam, if you continue to be so fond of your last husband, what makes you think of another? sixty? Mrs. Love. Sixty! Are you mad, Mrs. Mechlin? what, do you think I want to turn nurse. Mrs. Mech. Or fifty-five? Mrs. Love. Oh! that's too cunning an age;men, now-a-day, rarely marry at fifty; they are too knowing and cautious. Mrs. Mech. Or forty-five, or forty, orMrs. Love. Shall I, Mrs. Mechlin, tell you a piece of my mind ? Mrs. Mech. I believe, madam, that will be your best way. Mrs. Love. Why, then, as my children are young and rebellious, the way to secure and preserve their obedience, will be to marry a man that won't grow old in a hurry. Mrs. Mech. Why, I thought you declared against youth? Mrs Love. So I do, so I do; but then, six or seven and twenty is not so very young, Mrs. Mechlin. Mrs. Mech. No, no, a pretty ripe age: for, at that time of life, men can bustle and stir: they are not easily checked; and whatever they take in hand, they go through with. Mrs. Love. True, true. Mrs. Mech. Ay, ay, it is then they may be said to be useful; it is the only tear and wear Mrs. Love. Why, what can I do, Mrs. Mechlin? a poor, lone, widow woman as I am; there's nobody minds me; my tenants behindhand, my servants all careless, iny children undutiful-season. [Coughs. Ugh, ugh, ugh! Mrs. Mech. You have a villainous cough, Mrs. Loveit; shall I send for some lozenges? Mrs. Love. No I thank you; 'tis nothing at all: mere habit: just a little trick I've got. Mrs. Mech. But I wonder you should have all these vexations to plague you, madam; you who are so rich, and so Mrs. Love. Forty thousand in the four-perscent every morning I rise, Mrs. Mechlin, besides two houses at Hackney: but then, my affairs are so weighty and intricate; there is such trickling in lawyers, and such torments in children, that I can't do by myself; I must have a helpmate: quite necessity; no matter of choice. Mrs. Love. Right, right. Mrs. Mech. Well, madam, I see what you want; and to-morrow, about this time, if you'll do me the favour to call Mrs. Love. I shan't fail. Mrs. Mech. I think I can suit you. Mrs. Love. But, Mrs. Mechlin, be sure don't let him be older than that, not above seven or eight and twenty at most; and let it be as soon as you conveniently can. Mrs. Mech. Never fear, madam. Mrs. Love. Because, you know, the more children I have by the second husband, the greater plague I shall prove to those I had by Mrs. Mech. Oh, I understand you! you marry merely for convenience? just only to get an as-the-first. sistant, a kind of a guard, a fence to your property? Mrs. Love. Nothing else. Mrs. Mech. I thought so; quite prudential; so that age is none of your object: you don't want a scampering, giddy, sprightly, young Mrs. Love. Young!-Heaven forbid ! What, do you think, like some ladies I know, that I want to have my husband taken for one of my grandchildren? No, no; thank Heaven, such vain thoughts never entered my head. Mrs. Mech. But yet, as your matters stand, he ought not to be so very old neither; for instance, Mrs. Mech. True, madam; you had better lean on me to the door. But, indeed, Mrs. Loveit, you are very malicious to your children; very revengeful, indeed. Mrs. Love. Ah, they deserve it; you can't think what sad whelps they turn out; no punishment can be too much; if their poor father could but have foreseen, they would have-why did I mention the dear man? it melts me too much. Well, peace be with him. To-morrow, about this time, Mrs. Mechlin, will the party be here, think you? Mrs. Mech. I can't say. Mrs. Love. Well, a good day, good Mrs. Mechlin. Mrs. Mech. Here, John, take care of your mistress. [Exit MRS. LOVEIT.] A good morning to you, madam. Jenny, bid Simon come up. A husband! there now is a proof of the prudence of age! I wonder they don't add a clause to the act to prevent the old from marrying clandestinely, as well as the young. I ain sure there are as many unsuitable matches at this time of life as the other. Enter SIMON. Mrs. Mech. There I am coming-You are to know, that our squire Would-be is violently bent upon matrimony: and, nothing, forsooth, will go down but a person of rank and condition. Sim. Ay, ay, for that piece of pride he's in debted to Germany. Mrs. Mech. The article of fortune he holds in utter contempt; à grand alliance is all that he wants; so that the lady has but her veins full of high-blood, he does not care two-pence how low and how empty her purse is. Sim. But, madam, won't it be difficult to meet Shut the door, Simon. Sim. I formerly knew him, madam. Mrs. Mech. But he does not know you? Mrs. Mech. I am glad of that-This spark, I say, not content with being really as rich as a lord, is determined to rival them, too, in every other accomplishment. Sim. Will that be so easy? why he must be upwards of Mrs Mech. Fifty, I warrant. Sim. Rather late in life to set up for a gentle man. Mrs. Mech. But fine talents, you know, and a strong inclination Sim. That, indeed vided. Sim. Indeed! Mrs. Mech. You know my niece, Dolly? Sim. Very well. Mrs. Mech. What think you of her? Sim. Of Miss Dolly, for what? Mrs. Mech. For what! you are plaguily dull. Why, a woman of fashion, you dunce! Sim. To be sure, Miss Dolly is very deserving, and few ladies have a better appearance; but, bless me, madam, here people of rank are so generally known, that the slightest inquiry would poison your project. Mrs. Mech. Oh, Simon. I have no fears from that quarter; there, I think, I am pretty secure. Sim. If that, indeed, be the case Mrs. Mech. In the first place, Mr. Fungus has an entire reliance on me. Sim. That's something. Mrs. Mech. Then, to baffle any idle curiosity, we are not derived from any of your new-fangled gentry, who owe their upstart nobility to your Mrs. Mech. Then, I promise you, he spares Harrys and Edwards. No, no; we are scions for no pains. Sim. Diligent? Mrs. Mech. Oh, always at it. Learning something or other from morning to night; my house is a perfect academy, such a throng of fencers, dancers, riders, musicians-But, however, to sweeten the pill, I have a fellow-feeling for recommending the teachers. Sim. No doubt, madam; that is always the rule. Mrs. Mech. But one of his studies is really diverting; I own I can't help laughing at that. Sim. What may that be? Mrs. Mech. Oratory. You know his first ambition is to have a seat in a certain assembly; and in order to appear there with credit, Mr. What-d'ye-Callum, the man from the city, attends every morning to give him a lecture upon speaking, and there is such haranguing and bellowing between them-Lord have mercy uponbut you'll see enough on't yourself; for, do you know, Simon, you are to be his valet-de-chambre? Sim. Me, madam! Mrs. Mech. Ay, his privy counsellor, his confident, his director in chief. Sim. To what end will that answer? from an older stock; we are the hundred and fortieth lineal descendent from Hercules Alexander, earl of Glendower, prime minister to king Malcolm the First. Sim. Odso! a qualification for a canon of Strasburg! So then, it seems, you are transplanted from the banks of the Tweed; cry you mercy! but how will Miss Dolly be able to manage the accent? Mrs. Mech. Very well; she was two years an actress in Edinburgh. Sim. That's true; is the overture made? has there been any interview? Mrs. Mech. Several; we have no dislike to his person! can't but own he is rather agreable; and as to his proposals, they are greater than we could desire-But we are prudent and careful, say nothing without the earl's approtion. Sim. Oh, that will be easily had. Mrs. Mech Not so easily! and now comes your part: but, first, how goes the world with you, Simon? Sim. Never worse! the ten bags of tea, and the cargo of brandy, them peering rascals took from me in Sussex, has quite broken my back. |