Old Rev Nay, but look at it. | abuse, scold, insult, or, with stones, sticks, [Giving the Paper. or staves, assault, beat, or batter, the aforesaid Fanny. [Seeing Frank's Writing, runs Sir Arthurinto Old Revel's Arms, and kisses him] How I love you! Old Rev. Do you? [Delighted] I almost wish I had the paper again! Fanny. I'm the happiest young girl! Lady Stan. May I inquire what those parchments are? Old Rev. [Chucking her under the Chin] Your articles of separation, my dear! No fear of your husband's troubling you when this is [Aside. Old Rev. I'll tell the lawyer to wait on you at home. executed. Lady Stan. I'm sick at heart. Lady Stan. [Hanging her head] Sir, I-I [Extending her Arms. Old Rev. Prudence! not to be again ventur--have no home. ed, or the consequences might be.-Out of my sight, you tempting, teasing, tickling [Exit Fanny. He goes up the Stage in Ecstasy. Mrs. Rev. My brother! Enter SIR ARTHUR STANMORE. Sir Arth. Constance, she is gone-lost to me for ever! Old Rev. Another couple to make happy! -I've as much hammering together as the Scotch blacksmith 1). Old Rev. True: then at Miss Raven's. Lady Stan. Friend! she has caused all my misery; and when I flew to her with open arms to seek the shelter of her heart and home, | she insulted-refused to see me. Old Rev. That's always the way with these meddling advisers; but you'll find my conduct very different. Lady Stan. I'm sure I shall. Old Rev. So, whenever you happen to come Sir Arth. She must have been the victim of this way, and will call in and take a lunch— some envious meddling adviser-some insi- [Lady Stanmore starts] And I'm sure, Condious serpent|stance, you'll make Lady Stanmore welcome, as far as a cup of tea and a muffin goes. Old Rev. That was me. Sir Arth. And am I indebted to you for the Lady Stan. Insupportable humiliation! Sir, loss of my wife ? [Indignantly. I hope I feel, as I ought, your protecting Old Rev. To be sure you are! now here's courtesy, and have the honour to wish you a gratitude! and but that I am the sweetest- good morning. tempered Mrs. Rev. [To Old Revel] Come, sir, this is too distressing. Mrs. Reo. Where are you going, my dear sister? [Going. Lady Stan. I know not-farewell ! Old Rev. Not a bit: do him good. I have Mrs. Reo. Stay and hear me: I insist. seen Lady Stanmore: she loves you, and when Lady Stan. Excuse meI mentioned your name, she blessed you, and Mrs. Rev. I entreat. [Lady Stanmore curta tear of repentant love fell upon this hand. seys, and remains] There is an asylum I Sir Arth. [Eagerly taking it] What! on would propose, [beckoning to Sir Arthur, this hand? you have raised me from despair! who enters,] where the world's malice could -a precious drop! and on this hand? never reach you, where tranquil happiness would beam around you, and peace enshrine in its lovely temple. Old Rev. I beg your pardon; I just want my hand for a minute, to take a pinch of snuff: upon my hononr you shall have it again. Mrs. Rev. Ah! Lady Stanmore's carriage! Sir Arth. Let me fly to her! Old Rev. [Holding him] Fly to her you may; but go to her you shall not. Retire! Mrs. Rev. Dear brother! all is concerted for your happiness; pray retire, and watch my signal. Sir Arth. [To Old Revel] Restore but my Harriet to these arms, and I am your debtor beyond what gratitude can pay! [Exit. Lady Stan. Is there such a haven for a wretch like me to shelter in? Mrs. Reo. Yes, dearest sister; its gates are now open : I will lead you to your sanctuary. [Leads her towards Sir Arthur. Lady Stan. [Seeing Sir Arthur, with Arms extended, rushes to his Feet] My husband! Sir Arth. Rise to my heart! [Raising her] 'tis your home, my Harriet! Lady Stan. I can only offer tears. Sir Arth. Then let mine, which spring from Old Rev. Within there! those old parch- joy's purest fountain, change their bitterness ments quick! [Servant brings in Parch- to balmy sweetness, to connubial joy. ments, and exit] What have we here? an Old Rev. [Throwing away parchment, old cancelled deed: it will do. “I must be and wiping his eyes] This snuff is always cruel only to be kind." Enter LADY STANMORE. getting into my eyes! That's finished; and now for Ned, and then my task is done. Come, come, time enough for raptures: to business! Lady Stan. Good morning, madam. [Bow- to business. I shall want you all;-you, Sir ing to Mrs. Revel] My dear Sir, I have taken Arthur, must become a black-leg, and your ladyship a blue-stocking 1). Hollo, Dexter! the freedom Old Rev. Ah! is it you? [Nods, pretending to read, but secretly observing Lady Stanmore] "And further, that the aforesaid Harriet Stanmore shall not, by tumult of tongue, ›) Marrying at Gretna Green. 1) The blue stockings or blues are the femmes savantes of England, a most formidable party in Literature at the present day. They are called blues, from their affected negligence of dress, so far as to wear (horrible for a lady) a blue stocking. take cards and dice to the drawing-room. Eleven and seven-eighteen; and eleventwenty-nine:-twenty pence is one and eightpence-two and five-pence-right:-two and aught is two- certainly-[Noise of Dice] What rattling noise is that? My father and wife playing at sixpenny backgammon! what a waste of precious time! Enter DEXTER-he runs to a Drawer. Why am I disturbed?-What do you want? Dex. Dice, sir; Mr. Revel and Sir Arthur are at deep play; your father has lost thousands. In his fury he swallowed the dice, and wants more. Old Rev. [Without] Dice! I say. Dex. They are here, sir. [Exit running. Y. Rev. Losing thousands!-dreadful depravity! Ah! my father, what would become of you, if you had not such a son as I am! [Enter Jonathan] Again my studies interrupted? Jon. Your tenant, Dame Ryeland. Y. Rev. What, would you bait me with her maudlin woes? Why did not you deny me? Jon. Sir, you did not say Y. Rev. Was it necessary to say I did not want to see an old woman? Say, that abstruse calculations engross my mind, as you see, Jonathan! [Exit Jonathan] I must begin again. Enter DAME RYELAND. Dame. You the lover of women!-Oh no. Sir Arth. Without] Well, double or quits! Enter BUTTErcup. Butter. Oh my poor master-a beggar'd gamester! he has lost all his treasures, except me. Y. Rev. What noise was that? Butter. In desperation, he jumped through the window, and ran to the fish-pond. Y. Rev. You followed? Butter. No. Y. Rev. Fool! follow him! within there! fly, pursue! [to Dame Ryeland] in mercy assist. Dame. That I will. [Exeunt Dame Ryeland, Buttercup, and Servant. Y. Rev. Ah! but here comes his honourable plunderer! Enter SIR ARTHUR STANMORE, his Hands full of Banknotes, which he is pocketing. Sir Arth. Ha! Ha! What glorious sport! I'm a made man. Y. Rev. Sir, this intrusion into my room of business is irregular and offensive. Sir Arth. Indeed!-I have not left him land enough to fill a bowpot; nor timber, to make the old boy a crutch. Y. Rev. To add insult to ruin is the act of a coward. Sir Arth. I understand, but I'm not to be bounced out of my property. Y. Rev. Follow me. Dame. [Speaking as she enters] Don't jabber your nonsense to me-I will be heard. Y. Rev. [Rising] Will be heard? Sir Arth. No-I sha'n't fight to day! deep Dame. Your patience, sir. I beg with all play has shattered my nerves-I'm fatigued by humility to state, that lowly as my station is, the oppression of wealth-I really could not I have feelings and affections that are very dear to me, and possessing little else makes them cling more closely round my heart. depend on my aim: [Looking along his Fin- Y. Rev. I heard some one lamenting. Y. Rev. What favour do you solicit? Dame. None: I would receive with gratitude the favours of a kind considerate land-old boy has been desperate. lord; but from him who does me wrong, I Butter. [Without] I've cut him down! I've will accept nothing but justice, and I demand-cut him down! Y. Rev. Your language is impertinent: con- Sir Arth. Surely he could not be so vulgar sider your situation. as to hang himself! Dame. A mother struggling for her child's happiness; and surely the cause of nature ought to be supported by the language of truth. As you cannot have forgot insulting my son by an unworthy blow, I trust you can have no objection to making him a due apology. Enter BUTTERCUP. MRS. REVEL and LADY STANMORE enter, supporting OLD REVEL, his Dress disordered. They place him in a Chair; following them, enter DAME RYELAND, FRANK, and FANNY. Butter. Oh, that ever I should live to save Y. Rev. [Scornfully] He requires it, does he? my old master from killing himself! Dame. No, 'tis the mother asks for peace Old Rev. Where am I? [Looking at Sir -my son demands blow for blow. It would Arthur and Young Revel] Among fiends! be kind to grant my request-perhaps prudent. [Looking at the Ladies]-No-angels! Y. Rev. Insolent! and, but that I am a lo- Y. Rev. Look up, my father, see your rever of your sex.— pentant, broken-hearted son. Old Res. Ah, Ned, is that you? I have done Fanny. Dear sir, may I-[Showing a Pamy best to follow my dear son's example: you per, Old Revel nods, and chucks her under see what it has ended in-ruin! the chin] Here, dear Frank! look, Dame! [They come forward. Y. Rev. Mr. Ryeland, I have wronged, insulted— Y. Rev. Be comforted, sir, all I have is yours. Old Reo. All he has-[Aside]-not a guinea! Y. Rev. I'll labour for you: no obstacle shall deter: I'll rise every morning at ten Old Rev. Rise with the lark at ten! hear that, ye ploughmen. Y.Reo. I'll part with my billiard table! [A Noise of several Voices without.] Enter DEXter. Frank. Enough! I perceive, sir, you are sorry for what you have done; but one blow demands another; 'twas this hand that gave it -thus I return it! [Takes Young Revel's hand, and bows. Y.Rev. Generous fellow! be my friend, my companion! Dame. Excuse him there. It would be a pity to spoil an excellent farmer by making Dex. [Aside] My new master ruined! I him a shabby sort of gentleman. No: we'll must rati). keep as we are; and while agriculture affords Old Rev. What's the matter, my dear Dexter? health aud competence to the cultivator, and Dex. Ugly reports have reached your cre- good subjects to the state, I trust its efforts ditors: they clamously demand their money, will be justly estimated, and its children respected. or your person. Old Rev. My person! Why, as I feel pretty comfortable here, you had better pay them. Enter DEXTER. Der. I've cleared the house of the scoun [Rises. Dex. 'Tis the best way when it happens to drels. [Significantly. be convenient. Old Rev. Here are a few thousands. [Pulling out notes] Will these do, Dexter? Old Rev. What, all gone? Old Rev. [With emphasis] But one. Did Dex. Not ruined? Oh! about ship again! you ever see these dice before? Refund [Point[Aside] No, Sir; I'll not pay the scoundrels ing to Frank] or go. Bob, see your friend a farthing! to dare to molest a noble gentle- out.-Embrace him at parting. [Apart to him] man with their insolent demands! I'll ride the Give him a Cornish hug 1). honse of the rascals. enormous amount. [Exit. Y. Rev. Sir, you have dropt notes to an [Picking up notes. Old Rev. Never mind, Ned, put them in your pocket. Y. Rev. Ah! hopes dawn! light flashes! Sir Arthur, you are not the scoundrel I took you for. Dear father, you are not ruined! Old Rev. [With Emphasis] What! could I, in one day, shamefully dissipate the product of fifty years' honourable industry? Could I, at my age, seriously practise the profligacy wept to behold at yours? Y. Rev. I kiss the rod! Your discipline has been severe; but the cure is radical. The father has, indeed, at heart the son's interest. Old Rev. Then let the son have at heart the father's principle: you are restored to affluence-how will you use it? Y. Rev. In proving myself worthy the forgiveness of such a wife!-in fully estimating the blessing of such a father! Old Rev. Then my plan has triumphed, and I feel a giant refreshed. 1) Desert my party. Butter. I will. [Exeunt Dexter and Butter. Old Rev. Then am I pedagogue of our Enter BUTTErcup. Pupils, stand in a row! and let me hope that we shall find indulgent and encouraging patrons, while our lessons inculcate that we should avoid Y. Rev. Profligacy- Old Rev. That we should cherish 1) Signifies a good beating ARTHUR MURPHY Was born near Elphin, in the county of Roscommon, Ireland, December 27, 1750. His father was a merchant in Dublin: and his mother, whose maiden name was French, was the daughter of Arthur French, of Tyrone, in the county of Galway. When young, our author was brought to London by his mother; whence he was sent to an annt, (Mrs. Plunket) then residing at Boulogne, who entered her nephew at the College of St. Omers, in 1740 Here he remained near seven years, and on his return spent two years in the counting-house of Mr. Hanold, an eminent merchant in Cork. Leaving this place in consequence of a theatrical dispute, in which he had taken to active a part, he came to town, and obtained admission into the counting-house of Ironside and Belchier, bankers. How long Mr. Murphy continued in this situation we are not informed; but when he relinquished it, having cultivated a taste for literature, and conceived a disgust to trade, he commenced author. In the year 1752, he published The Gray's Inn Journal, which continued until October 1754. His next attempt was on the stage, where he appeared at Covent Garden Theatre, in the character of Othello, October 18, 1754; but though he possessed figure, voice, genius, and an accurate conception of the parts he acted; yet he soon found that he was not likely to add to his fame in a situation where excellence is very seldom to be met with. At the end of the first year he removed to Drury Lane, where he remained only until the season closed, at the conclusion of which he renounced the theatres as an actor, and resumed his former employment of a writer. The violence of parties at this juncture running very high, our author undertook the defence of the unpopular side, and began a periodical paper, 6th November 1756, called The Test, which was answered by the late Owen Huffhead, Esquire, in another, under the title of The Contest. To prevent his being obliged to rely solely on the precarious state of an author, he now determined to study the law; but, on his first application to the societies of both the Temples and Gray's Inn, he had the mortification to be refused admission, on the illiberal ground of his having acted on the stage. He was, however, received as a member of Lincoln's Inn, and in due time called to the bar; after which he gradually withdrew himself from the public as a writer. At the beginning of the reign of King George III. he was employed to write against the famous North Briton, and for a considerable sum published a weekly paper, called The Auditer; but being disgusted, as is supposed, at some improper behaviour among his party, he from that time gave up all sttention to politics, and devoted himself wholly to the study of his profession as a lawyer. He published an edition of Henry Fieldings works, with a life of the author, in 1762. His translation of Tacitus, his poems, prologues, etc. are well known, and have been justly admired. His Life of David Garrick, however, did him no credit. He was many years a commissioner of bankrupts, in which office he continued to his death, which happened at Knightsbridge, the 18th of June 18c5. THREE WEEKS AFTER MARRIAGE. Comedy of two acts, by Arthur Murphy, Performed at Covent Garden. 1776. This piece affords a very striking proof of the capriciousness of public taste, and the injustice of some public determinations. It is no other than the What we must all come to, of the same author, with a new title. On its first appearance it was condemned almost without a hearing, and lay dormant for several years, until Mr. Lewis ventured to produce it again at his benefit; when it met with universal applause, and still continues to be frequently acted and favourably received. The following anec dote is related by Mr. Ryley (in his entertaining work called The Itinerant) of a country manager, named Davies: When Mr. Ross, formerly the Edinburgh Roscius, was at Lyme, in Dorsetshire. in a very infirm state of health, being a ge neral favourite among the visitors, Manager Davies applied to him, and he bespoke Three Weeks after Marriage. Davies undertook the part of Sir Charles; and Miss Stanley was quite at home in Lady Racket, having often played it with Mr. Dimond, of the Bath Theatre, whose business she wrote down for Davies's instruction. One thing, which she particularly desired, was, that when they are parting after the first quarrel, and she says, "Won't you go to bed?** he should reply, "No, Madam, I'll never go to bed with a woman who does not know what's trumps. It is supposed that he had taken particular pains to be correct; but not being at all easy in the part, and seeing the eyes of the great actor Ross intently fixed upon him from the stage-box, when the fatal question was put, "Come, Sir Charles, won' you go to bed?" he replied, "No, Madam, I'll never go to bed with a woman that trumps !” The house was in a roar. Davies, perceiving his mistake, made it worse by hawling out, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I did not mean any such thing; 1 meant trumps at cards-diamonds, spades, clubs-that is, I-" and off she stage he ran, and was with great difficulty persuaded to appear again that evening. Enter WOODLEY and DIMITY. affairs. Dim. Attention! to be sure you did not fall asleep in their company; but what then? -You should have entered into their characters, play'd with their humours, and sacrificed to their absurdities. Wood. But if my temper is too frankDim. Frank, indeed! yes, you bave been Wood. Nay, but listen to reason, Mrs. Di- frank enough to ruin yourself.-Have not you mity-has not your master, Mr. Drugget, in- to do with a rich old shopkeeper, retired vited me down to his country seat, in order from business with an hundred thousand pounds to give me his daughter Nancy in marriage; in his pocket, to enjoy the dust of the Lonand with what pretence can he now break off? don road, which he calls living in the countDim. What pretence!-you put a body ry-and yet you must find fault with his siout of all patience-But go on your own way, tuation!-What if he has made ridiculous sir; my advice is all lost upon you. gimcrack of his house and gardens, you know Wood. You do me injustice, Mrs. Dimity his heart is set upon it; and could not you -your advice has governed my whole con- have commended his taste? But you must duct Have not I fixed an interest in the be too frank!-Those walks and alleys are young lady's heart? too regular-those evergreens should not Dim. An interest in a fiddlestick! - you cut into such fantastic shapes.-And thus you ought to have made love to the father and advise a poor old mechanic, who delights in mother-what, do you think the way to get every thing that's monstrous, to follow nature a wife, at this time of day, is by speaking -Oh, you're likely to be a successful lover! fine things to the lady you have a fancy for? Wood. But, why should I not save a fa-That was the practice, indeed; but things ther-in-law from being a laughing-stock? are alter'd now-you must address the old Dim. Make him your father-in-law firstpeople, sir; and never trouble your head And then the mother; how have you play'd about your mistress-that's the way of the your cards in that quarter?-She wants a tinworld now. sel man of fashion for her second daughter Wood. But you know, my dear Dimity, "Don't you see," says she, "how happy my the old couple have received every mark of eldest girl is made by marrying sir Charles Racket? She has been married three entire attention from me. weeks, and not so much as one angry word has pass'd between them-Nancy shall have a man of quality too." Dim. And then, Mr. Lovelace, I reckonNan. Pshaw! I don't like him; he talks to me as if he was the most miserable man in Wood. And yet I know sir Charles Racket the world, and the confident thing looks so perfectly-well. pleas'd with himself all the while. I want to Dim. Yes, so do I; and I know he'll make marry for love, and not for card-playing-l his lady wretched at last-But what then? should not he able to bear the life my sister You should have humour'd the old folks-you leads with sir Charles Racket-and I'll forfeit should have been a talking empty fop to the my new cap, if they don't quarrel soon. good old lady, and to the old gentleman an Dim. Oh! fie! no! they won't quarrel yet admirer of his taste in gardening. But you awhile.-A quarrel in three weeks after mar have lost him he is grown fond of his beau riage, would be somewhat of the quickest—Lovelace, who is here in the house with him; By-and-by we shall hear of their whims and the coxcomb ingratiates himself by flattery, their humours-Well, but if you don't like and you're undone by frankness. Mr. Lovelace, what say you to Mr. Woodley? Nan. I don't know what to say. Wood. And yet, Dimity, I won't despair. Dim. And yet you have reason to despair; a million of reasons-To-morrow is fix'd for the wedding-day; sir Charles and his lady Re-enter WOODLEY. Wood. My sweetest angel! I have heard are to be here this very night-they are en-all, and my heart overflows with love and gag'd, indeed, at a great rout in town but gratitude. Dim. Well, I'll take my chance for that-Run both into my room, and say all your pretty things to one another there, for here comes the old gentleman-make haste away. they take a bed here, notwithstanding.-The Nan. Ah! but I did not know you was family is sitting up for them; Mr. Drugget listening. You should not have betray'd me will keep you all up in the next room there, so, Dimity; I shall be angry with you. till they arrive and to-morrow the business is over and yet you don't despair!—hush!hold your tongue; here comes Lovelace.Step in, and I'll devise something, I warrant you. [Exit Woodley] The old folks shall not have their own way-'tis enough to vex a body, to see an old father and mother marrying their daughter as they please, in spite of all I can do. So, here comes our Nancy. Enter NANCY. [Exeunt Woodley and Nancy. Enter DRUGGET. Drug. A forward presuming coxcomb!Dimity, do you step to Mrs. Drugget, and send her hither. Dim. Yes, sir-It works upon him. I see. Nan. Well, Dimity, what's to become of me? Drug. The yew-trees ought not to be cut, Dim. My stars! what makes you up, miss? because they'll help to keep off the dust, and -I thought you were gone to bed! I am too near the road already —a sorry, Nan. What should I go to bed for? Only ignorant fop!-When I am in so fine a sito tumble and toss, and fret and be uneasy-tuation, and can see every carriage that goes they are going to marry me, and I am fright-by. And then to abuse the nurseryman's ened out of my wits. rarities! A finer sucking pig in lavender, Dim. Why then you're the only young with sage growing in his helly, was never lady within fifty miles round, that would be seen! And yet he wants me not to have it frighten'd at such a thing. But have it I will.-There's a fine tree of knowledge too, with Adam and Eve in juniper; Eve's nose not quite grown, but it's thought in the spring it will be very forward Nan. Ah! if they would let me choose for myself. Dim. Don't you like Mr. Lovelace? Nan. My mamma does, but I don't; I don't mind his being a man of fashion, not I. Dim. And, pray, can you do better than follow the fashion? I'll have that too, with the serpent in groundivy-two poets in wormwood-I'll have them both. Ay, and there's a lord mayor's feast in honeysuckle, and the whole court of alderNan. Ah! I know there's a fashion for new men in hornbeam; with the dragon of Wantbonnets, and a fashion for dressing the hair-ley in box-all-all-I'll have 'em all, let my but I never heard of a fashion for the heart. wife and Mr. Lovelace say what they will. Dim. Why then, my dear, the heart mostly follows the fashion now. Enter MRS. DRUGGET. Mrs. D. Did you send for me, lovey? Drug. The yew-trees shall be cut into the giants of Guildhall, whether you will or not. Mrs. D. Sure my own dear will do as he Nan. And what's the last new fashion, pleases. pray? Drug. And the pond, though you praise Dim. Why, to marry any fop that has a the green banks, shall be wall'd round, and few, deceitful, agreeable appearances about I'll have a little fat boy in marble, spouting him; something of a pert phrase, a good ope- up water in the middle. Mrs. D. My sweet, who hinders you? rator for the teeth, and a tolerable tailor. Nan. And do they marry without loving? Dim. Oh! marrying for love has been a whole catalogue-Do you think, after retiring great while out of fashion. to live all the way here, almost four miles Nan. Why, then I'll wait till that fashion from London, that I won't do as I please in comes up again. my own garden? |