The agreeable surprise: A comic opera. In two acts. By Mr. O'Keefe. The music composed by Dr. Arnold.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- Dramatis Personae.

- ACT I.

- SCENE I.

- SCENE II. A Chamber.

- ACT II.

- SCENE I. An Inn.

- SCENE II. A Chamber.

- SCENE III.

- SCENE IV.

- FINALE.

THE AGREEABLE SURPRISE.

THE END.

THE AGREEABLE SURPRISE.

A COMIC OPERA.

IN TWO ACTS.

BY MR. O'KEEFE.

THE MUSIC COMPOSED BY DR. ARNOLD.

NEWRY: Printed by R. STEVENSON.

M.DCC.LXXXIII.

Dramatis Personae.

MEN

- Sir Felix Friendly, MR. MOSS.

- Compton, MR. JOHNSTON.

- Eugene, MR. WOOD.

- Chicane, MR. MITCHELL.

- Lingo, MR. CORNELYS.

- John, MR. LYNCH.

- Thomas, MR. KANE.

- Cudden, MR. MURPHY.

- Stump, MR. LE BRUN.

- William, MR. WITHINGTON.

WOMEN.

- Mrs. Cheshire, MRS. HRAPHY.

- Laura, MRS. JOHNSTON.

- Fringe, MISS WOOD.

- Cowslip, MRS. HITCHCOCK.

Countrymen, Lasses, &c.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Sir Felix Friendly and Compton discovered sitting, John and Thomas waiting behind, country lads and lasses at a distance, singing chorus as the curtain rises.

CHORUS.

HERE we sing, dance and play,

Nor perceive the blithe day

Is departing, when gliding so smoothly away.

Compton.

Let poets still carol the beauties of Spring,

And love-lorn shepherds of summer may sing;

'Tis Autumn bestows full fruition of joy,

Rich treasure, sweet pleasure that never can cloy.

Sir Felix.

The yellow leaf falling, presents the wise page,

That bids us lay up for our winter of age;

While labour subsiding, still sweetens repose,

And our wealth, rosy health, from industry flows.

Here we sing, &c.

Sir Felix.

There there, get you gone all to the lawn, and be as merry as good cheer, strong beer, and the pipe and tabour can make you.

Peasants.

Long life and happy days to our master sir Felix!

Exeunt peasants.

Sir Felix.

O Compton! I'm so happy to-day! Isn't that your old servant Thomas?

Compton.

Ay, sir Felix, now my only servant: fidelity roots the poor fellow in a barren soil.

Sir Felix.

Desire Lingo to come here,

Exit John

Here Thomas, drink my health,

gives him, money.

We'll have none of our verdure wither to day, for want of moisture.

Exit Thomas.

Ah, friend Compton, had you but continued partnership with me to this day, well—Ay, ay, I stuck to Blackwell-hall, till I converted my wool into a golden fleece. You must, like a silly sheep, go privateering, and so be fleeced by the French and Spaniards.

Compton.

Why, sir Felix, no reflections on the part you have taken, I thought it more honourable to be shorn in facing the foe, than in safety to carry back a branded fleece, by flying from the enemies of my country.

Sir Felix.

Well said, my old battering ram. You're a loyal subject, and shall never be without his Majesty's picture, while I have a collection. A friend to the King should never want his countenance. You're a true patriot too; and it's a pity, that a lover of his country should ever be in want of the blessings she produces. But come, give me the song that first set you agog on privateering.

Compton.

Sir Felix, I shan't repine at my private losses, so long as we can keep the dominion of the sea, and preserve the Trident put into our hands by our valiant forefathers.

SONG.

Thus, thus, my boys, our anchor's weigh'd,

See Britain's gloríous flag display'd,

Unfurl the swelling fail:

Sound, found your shells, ye, Tritons sound,

Let ev'ry heart with joy redound,

We scud before the gale.

See Neptune quit his watry car,

Depos'd `by Jove's decree.

To hail the free-born British tar,

The sov'reign of the sea.

A fail a-head, our decks we clear.

Our canvass crowd, the chace we near,

In vain the Frenchman flies;

A broadside pour'd through clouds of smoak,

Our captain roars, my hearts of oak,

Now draw, and board our prize.

See Neptune, &c

Sir Felix.

Thank ye, thank ye, old partner I Od! I'm so happy to-day!

Compton.

Pray, sir, Felix, may I beg to know the cause of this happiness, and these extraordinary preparations?

Sir Felix.

Why Compton, 'tis necessary you should know this day is a triple festival, a little calendar, man, my birth day, harvest home, and Laura's wedding.

Compton.

My daughter! To whom, sir Felix?

Sir Felix.

To my son.

Compton.

Eugene! I'm surprised!

Sir Felix.

I love to surprise people with good news.— You know this was always my intention.

Compton.

And is this all certain?

Sir Felix.

True as that you have brought up my son as yours, and I your daughter as an orphan that I had adopted. You know they love each other, and in this union of hearts my grand point is answered. I am so happy my son, by thinking himself not worth a shilling, has escaped the foppery and ideas of dissipation he might have imbibed from a knowledge of being heir to my fortune; and in your Laura I shall have a daughter-in-law possessed of sense to distinguish 〈◊〉 it, though linked to poverty, and generosity to reward it with her heart.

Compton.

Dear sir Felix, this goodness to a child of mine, is a measure I—

Sir Felix.

You wicked man, would you oppose goodness?— Ha, ha, ha! this is pleasant Laura loves Eugene, though she thinks he's not worth a groat; and though he doats upon her, yet, awed by her fortune, the poor fool fighs at hnmble distance. Yes; and egad! there were folks sighing for him too. Why, do you know, Compton, he has made a conquest of a rich cheesemonger's widow in the Borough, who supposing him much poorer than herself, forced money upon him to lure his affections. Ha, ha, ha! this old mouldy vidow will have him in spite of his teeth; and thinking him still incapable of repaying her in coin, actually designs to hunt him with an attorney, and follow him here into the country, to force him into marriage. Ha, ha, ha! but where's Eugene now? because the bridegroom's presence is necessary at a wedding you know.

Compton.

I left him at home drawing.

Sir Felix.

At study how to. get his bread by scratching upon copper, or daubing canvass. Ha, ha, ha!

Compton.

True, sir Felix. From the idea he, has Fortune still to court, he is diligent in improving every grace, and acquiring every accomplishment that can render him worthy of her favour.

Sir Felix.

And Laura in London, laying out a few hondreds I gave her this morning.

Compton.

Without an idea that I am her father, and even breathe but from your bounty. O sir Felix! to so many obligations in the, scale, gratitude is a feather.

Sir Felix.

Then keep it to yourself, you feather-headed goose, Arn't we to be happy?— Compton, you took me into partnership with you, when all my stock was a little honesty; a poor capital, as the world goes! I have now the; means, you the inclination. And were you rich, and I poor, I know you'd act by me, as I mean to do by you. Here! Lingo, Lingo!

Compton.

I see you have brought home your new butler.

Sir Felix.

Yes, sir; but he's a curst fellow, as ignorant as dirt, It seeems he has been a schoolmaster here in the country, taught all the bumpkin fry what he calls Latin; and the damn'd dog so patches his own bad English with his bits of bad Latin, and jumbles the Gods, Goddesses, Heroes celestial and infernal together at such a rate; I took him to oblige a foolish old friend of mine, who intended him for Saint Omers; so I must keep him to draw good wine, and brew balderdash Latin.—Lingo!

Compton.

I see a carriage coming down the avenue.

Sir Felix.

Eh! it's Laura. Step you home for Eugene. D'ye hear, Compton? not a word till I break the matter myself. Edod! they'll be as happy!

Compton.

I am sure they will be perfectly so.

SONG.

The virgin lily of the night,

Aurora finds in tears.

But soon in coif of native white,

Her sragrant head she rears;

No longer droops distres'd forlorn,

But fresh and blithe as Mar,

She rises to perfume the morn,

And smiles upon the day.

The limpid streams of noble source

That miles in darkness flow,

Emerging in their devious course,

Translucen: beauties shew.

O'er golden sands they gently glide,

Unruffled with the gale,

Reflecting heaven with splendid pride,

As rolling thro' the vale.

Exit.

Sir Felix.

I'll puzzle 'em a little first though; their surprise and joy will be the greater.

Enter Laura, Fringe and William, with band boxes, &c.

Sir Felix.

Eh! Laura! welcome home, my girl.

Laura.

I thank you, sir.—Here, Fringe, take these things into the house.

Fringe.

Yes, Madam.

Exit.

Sir Felix.

Here, we are, eh!—very well.— Laid out all your cash?—Well, well.—Did n't run in debt I hope?

Laura.

No sir; your kindness amply supplied me.

Sir Felix.

That's right. But come—your journal.

Laura.

Now will he pretend to rail at my exravagance, altho' he delights in every wish of mine.

Aside

First, sir, I rattled up to my Milliner's in Bond street—Mrs. Bufont has a charming taste.—There's a cap, sir;—the very crown of elegance!

Sir Felix.

And cost a crown in silver, I warrant now!

Laura.

A crown! dear sir, it's cheap of three guineas.

Sir Felix.

Three guineas!—Bond-street!— They make mighty pretty caps in Cranbourn-alley.

Laura.

True. sir. But if we don't yield a little to the fashions of the times, we shall make a rusty appearance to our polished neighbours of the Continent.

Sir Felix.

Laura, I like a medium. I'll neither rust in particularity, nor will I be a weathercock to every puff of fashion.

SONG.

In Jacky Bull, when bound for France,

The gosling you discover;

Tho' taught to ride, to fence and dance,

A finish'd goose comes over:

With his tierce and carte, sa! sa!

And his cotillon so smart, ha! ha!

He charms each female heart, O la!

As Jacky returns from Dover.

For cocks and dogs see squire at home

The prince of country tonies,

Return'd form Paris, Spa, or Rome,

Our squire's a nice Adonis:

With his tierce and carte, &c.

Sir Felix.

For a trip or so, I should have no objection to a snuff at the air of Fontainbleau; should like to see the little chapel at Loretto, or the great tun of Heidelburg, or the Escurial, the bull feast, the goblins, tapestry, or, no offence to his Holiness's great toe, to pop my nose into the Vatican. But after all, I should be, unfashionable enough to prefer little England to all the gardens and fountains of France, and paiaces and conversationi of Italy.

Laura.

I apprehend, sir, I should be somewhat of your opinion in that particular.

SONG.

The tuneful lark as soaring high,

Upon its downy wings.

With wonder views the vaulted sky,

And mounting sweetly sings.

Ambition swells its little breast,

Suspended high in air,

And gently dropping to its nest,

Finds real pleasures there.

Exit,

Sir Felix.

Ha, ha, ha!—Poor Laura, I'll surprise you presently.—Lingo!—Where is this crazy butler of mine? Lingo!—O! here he comes at last. Now will he pester me with his damn'd barbarous Latin.—Lingo!

Enter Lingo.

Lingo.

I'm here, Domine Felix.

Sir Felix.

Domine! I'll Domine your blockhead against the wall, if you Domine me.

Lingo.

I won't, Domine Felix.

Sir Felix.

Again!

Lingo.

I've done, Domine Felix.

Sir Felix.

Are your knives and glasses, and every thing ready for.supper?

Lingo.

All ready, Domine Felix.

Sir Felix.

O damn your Domine!—Pray, Lingo, stir, and be clever;—a great deal to do; —And I beseech you, let ine hear no more of your curst Latin.

Exit.

Lingo.

My curst Latin! a blessed ignorant; family this I have got. into!

Enter Cudden.

Cudden, whither so fast?

Cudden.

I am going upon the lawn to be merry, and to dance. with my sweetheart Cowslip the dairy-maid. We'll have such game!—

Lingo.

Game! Cudden, you must know the Olympic games were propria quae maribus mascula dicas.

Cudden.

I know nought of French, master Lingo. I loves to hear good English, becaufs as why, I speaks good English; and so good bye, meister butler.

Exit. Enter Stump

O farmer Stump!

Stump.

I can't stay.

Lingo.

You can't stay! O you Adonis of the wood!—Utsunt divorum, Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, virorum.

Stump.

I don't understand Greek.

Lingo.

Ay, ay, all my Latin's Greek, to these people, you unhappy clowns, oh you Cyclops! they know nothing, nor won't be learned. Not a soul in the house will listen to me but Cowslip the dairy-maid; and she's going to jig it upon the lawn with the dancing sawns and rusty bumpkins. And here she comes.

Enter Cowslip, with a bowl of cream.

My sweet Cowslip, properly called Cowslip. Nominativo hanc, huc. et hoe

Cowslip.

I have, put the. hock into the syllabub, Mr. Lingo, and here it is.

Lingo.

What a sensible soul it is!

Cowslip.

Will you take it within, Mr. Lingo?

Lingo.

No child. I, prefer the air, Zephyrus, Aeolus, Boreas, and other gentle breezes will attend us here. I love the fragrant gales. Cowslip sit down. You're a noun adjective, and must not stand by yourself. Let's have a toast.

Cowslip.

I'll go bake one, sir.

Lingo.

No, I'll make one. Here's that the masculine may never be neuter to the feminine gender.

Cowslip.

Here's that—ay, here's the masculine to. the feminine gender (drinks) O Lord! I left out the neuter.

Lingo.

You. were, right. Recte, puella. I know these things, child, so did Ovid and Caesar.

Cowslip.

What, Caeser, the great dog, sir;

Lingo.

No, child! Judas Caesar. Romulus and Remus were suckled by a wolf. They ravished the Sabine girls, and found Rome in Italy.

Cowslip.

Ah! such. fellows would find room any where.

Lingo.

Jupiter was a fine god. He swam on a bull to Europe, He went into a flash of fire for Semele.

Cowslip.

Yes, sir, he'd go any lengths for his ale,

Lingo.

I. mean his amours.

Cowslip.

O ay; he'd drink with Moors or Turks either.

Lingo.

Drink! who?

Cowslip.

Who! why Jew Peter, the old clothes man.

Lingo.

O coelum in terra! for all my conversation, I find you know no more than the, parsun of the parish. Ah, Cowslip, if you was a goddess! the goddesses knew men and things.

Cowslip.

More shame for'em, Mr. Lingo, I say!

Lingo.

Jove loved an eagle, Mars a lion, Phoebus a cock, Venus a pigeon, Minerva loved an owl.

Cowslip.

I.should not have thought of your cock lions, your owls, and your pigeons, if I was a goddess. Give me a roast duck.

Lingo.

If you was Flora or Ceres!

Cowslip.

Serus! I am serus.

Lingo.

O Cowslip, the great old heroes perhaps you have never heard of, Homer, Moses, Hecrules, or Wat Tyler!

Cowslip.

No indeed, sir, not I.

Lingo.

Cowslip, don't love the Clowns. That fellow, that Cudden, is a colossus of the road. He's a clown, a mere pheasant; and yet, I suspect this Faunus, this young Silenus is the deity, the great Pan of the dairy.

Cowslip.

I could not set my cream, sir, without a pan in the dairy.

Lingo.

O Cowslip, the fine gods but for a mortal exit Homo.

SONG.

Such beauties in view!

Can never praise too high,

Not Pallas's blue eye

Is brighter than thine.

Not-fount of Susanna,

Nor Gold of fair Danae,

Nor moon of Diana,

So brightly can shine,

Not beard of Silenus,

Nor tresses of Venus,

I swear by quae genus,

With yours can compare.

Not Hermes Caduces,

Nor flower de luces,

Nor all the nine muses,

To me is so fair.

Oh! Moses, oh! Moses,

What posies, and roses to noses discloses,

Your breath all so sweet,

To the tip of your lip, as. they trip the bees dip,

Honey sip like choice slip, and their Hybla forget.

When girls like you pass us,

I saddle Pegassus,

And ride up Parnassus,

To Helicon s stream.

Even that is a puddle,

Where others may muddle;

My nose let me suddle

In bowls of your cream.

Old Jove, the great Hector,

Of Gods the director,

May tipple his nectar,

And thunder above:

I'd quaff off a full can,

As Bacchus orVulcan,

Or Jove the old bull cann,

To her that I love.

Chorus, Oh! Moses, &c.

SCENE II. A Chamber.

Enter Laura.

Where can Eugene be? at home, over his books and painting I suppose. He'd be here if he thought I was come back. Yes, he is all tenderness and attention; but his diffidence and provoking respect almost make me angry sometimes. How a little absence endears to us the object of our affection!

Enter Eugene.

Eugene.

You have been in London, madam!

Laura.

Just returned, Eugene. Why will you call me madam? you know! don't like it.

Eugene.

Impute my offence to the real cause, my respect to my divine Laura.

Laura.

Send your respect back to its fource, the bounty of sir Felix:

Eugene.

My love, you have my heart, my life: But when I reflect on the distance my fare has thrown me from you, it checks my presumption. I endeavour to hide from self-contempt, and would, if possible, shrink from my own opinion.

Laura.

What was I, Eugene? a poor, abandoned orphan; and but for the kind attention of sir Felix, I should be a wretched outcast, and experience the cold reception poverty must expect from a hard and sordid world.

Eugene.

O my love, had we been born humble villagers; with my Laura I should have been happy.

Laura.

And I too with, my Engene.

DUET.

Eugene.

The blushing sun shall never rise

To steal the woodbine's pearly dew,

But thy dear name I'll breathe in sighs,

And every thought shall be of you.

Laura.

Then pensive as a widow'd dove

I'll cheerless watch the lazy day.

And when kind dreams bring home my love,

I'll eager grasp the welcome ray.

Both.

Hence far with doubt and jealous fear,

With thee alone can joy return;

For thee I'll sigh, for thee, my dear,

The lamp of love shall constant burn.

They retire up the stage,

Enter Sir Felix and Compton.

Sir Felix.

Compton, look there, a pair of turtles. Look, see there's looks of love.

Compton.

Unfeigned affection indeed sir.

Sir Felix.

Egad! I'll surprise them. I'll disturb their tranquillity.

Compton.

Dear sit—

Sir Felix.

Be quier, man: Their joy will be the greater afterwards.—Ha! Eugene! my boy, we han't had a dish of chat to-day.

Eugere.

The loss was mine, sir.

Sir Felix.

Compton, now for it.—Laura, do you knew that I am very happy to-day?

Laura.

Dear sir, you never call be happier than I sincerely wish you.

Sir Felix.

I thank you, child—Yes, yes— Ha, ha, ha! I delight in a wedding.

Laura.

Sir!—

Sir Felix.

We are to have wedding under this; roof to-night, Eugene.

Eugene.

Indeed sir?

Sir Felix.

Yes; I am going to marry.

Eugene.

Who sir?

Sir Felix.

Laura.

Laura.

Me, sir!

Sir Felix.

Yes; I am going to marry you to my son.

Eugene.

Son! Have you a son, sir?

Compton.

He has, Eugene; a son worthy of such a father?

Eugene.

And he is to be united to Laura!

Sir Felix.

Yes, Eugene, he's a good lad. I'll assure you you'll like him exceedingly, Eugene. Egad! you'll never be out of his company. But he's at hand to bless my hopes, crown my wishes, and end my cares. You've no objection, Laura?

Laura.

Gratitude, Sir, most ever make your will the guide of mine.—Till now I never felt the loss of a parent. (Aside)

Eugene.

Never till now did I regret the want of a fortune. (Aside)

Compton.

My heart bleeds for them.

Sir Felix.

Nonsense! when happiness comes unexpected, it brings a double blessing, and cheers like the sun from behind a cloud.

QUINTETTO.

Sir Felix.

O how sweetly pleasure's tasted,

Usher'd in by grief or pain;

Every joy some joy is wasted,

Give me sunshine after rain.

Compton.

A trial so severe discovers

True affection's real charms;

Hapless, happy, faithful lovers,

Soon you'll bless each other's arms.

Sir Felix.

O exquisite pleasute! O joy beyond measure!

What say you, my Laura? what say you, my friend?

Then hey for a wedding, and hey for a bedding,

And hey for a babby at nine months end!

Laura and Eugene.

Celeslial Patience! meek-ey'd maid,

Impart thy lenient pow'r.

With calm Content 'tis thou must aid,

And cheer and cheer the adverse hour.

Sir Felix.

We'll be merry, by jingo!

I've got some some old •elies

Of Bacchus;—What, Lingo!

Enter Lingo.

Lingo.

Here Domine Felix.

Sir Felix.

You know my choice old sack,

Go fetch a dozen bottles;

Brave Bacchus we'll attack,

Lingo.

And bi•o all our throttles.

Sir Felix.

A feast's not worth a fig

Without a hearty jorum,

Lingo.

Hey populorum jig,

Hey jiggo populorum.

CHORUS.

Hey populorum jig,

Hey jiggo populorum.

End of the First Act.

ACT II.

SCENE I. An Inn.

Draws and discovers Mrs. Cheshire and Chicane.

Chicane.

So, my glass of brandy and water is finished, and by this time the horses are putting to.

Mrs. C.

We'll be upon him. He has got my letter by this; and Sir Felix Friendly, who lives here below, has given me notice of Eugene's intentions to marry an orphan girl somewhere here in the country; but I think I'll forbid the banns. You've the writ ready, Mr. Chicane?

Chicane.

In my pocket. But, Mrs. Cheshire, I trust you'll let no tender qualm prevent the execution of it, In case the yonug man, this Eugene, should refuse to marry you.

Mrs. C.

Tender qualms! you're a good lawyer, I believe, Mr. Chicane, but you are little read in the heart of a woman. No, Sir; the more we love, the more we hate, when that love is slighted. And am not I right, sir? not a better filled cheese-shop in the Borough than mine. What would the fellow have? and pray, sir, an't I a wife for any man?

Chicane.

Wife! ay, and a good wife too, Mrs. Cheshire. And what's better, there's plenty of you.

Mrs. C.

Ah! that's what my poor dear husband used to say. The good soul died of a surseit at the London Tavern. Ay, mere curds and whey;—wouldn't do for a city feast. Delicate as Parmesan, Mr. Chicane. Why, wife, says he, you're an honour to Tooley-street. A noble Cheshire cast in a Dutch mould. If he still refuses my hand and property—

Chicane.

To prison he goes. Yes, I have got a bailiff that I think will have him, Yes, my bailiff's an agreeable fellow. Tom Touch has a most taking way with him. Yes, yes, he'll sleep in the King's Bench to night.

Mrs. C.

Ay, as sure as you have two ears upon your head, Mr. Chicane.

Chicane.

Then he's safe enough. (Aside)

Mrs. C.

Yes, yes, to prison he goes; and I think I am right, Sir.

Chicane.

Right! if not, Madam, I would not be concerned for you. I like to be on the right side; and in my last cause particularly, I lent an ear to justice.—She never repaired it though. (Aside)

Mrs. C.

Come, Mr. Chicane, rise—O! I hope the poor beasts have fed. A tolerable pull to draw you and me in a gigg from London.

Chicane.

Only two hours and four minutes. You are an excellent driver, Mrs. Cheshire.

Mrs. C.

A pretty work, sir, in such weather, driving my gigg after a fellow! I protest, sir, though my dear husband had a confirmed asthma, and Was sixty-eight when he died, I gave myself more trouble about this Eugene, though the fellow is in found health, and is only twenty-four.

Chicane.

All from your good-nature, Mrs. Cheshire.

Mrs. C.

Oh! if my poor dear husband was alive—But he's better where he is.

SONG.

In choice of a husband widows are nice,

I'd not have a man who'd grow old in a trice,

Not a hear or a monkey, a clown or a sop,

But one that could bustle and stir in my shop.

A log I'll avoid, when I'm chosing my lad,

And a stork that might gobble up all that I bad

Such suitors I've had, sir. but off they might hop,

I want one that can bustle and stir in my shop.

The lad in my eye is the man to my mind,

So haadsome, so young, so polite, and so kind,

With such a good soul to the altar I'd pop,

He's the man that can bustle and stir in my shop.

SCENE II. A Chamber.

Enter Sir Felix and Compton.

Sir Felix.

Ha, ha, ha! she's come, Mrs. Cheshire is come and brought an attorney upon him. How he will be surprised! A letter is her harbinger, and they'll be here in five minutes. Ha, ha, ha!

Compton.

I had not a notion 'twas you sent for her, sir Felix.

Sir Felix.

I knew I'd surprise you. Ha, ha, ha!— We'll see how he'll fight it out. Egad! they'll surprise him. How finely he'll be hampered! an ideal rival on one side, and a real attorney on the other. Ha, ha, ha!

Compton.

And tantalized with forbidden fruitin the tempting affection of my Laura.

Sir Felix.

Ay, but when I snatch him from the attorney, and the fat cheesemonger, and bless him with an affluent fortune and his dear Laura, how he'll be then surprised!

Compton.

Why certainly the winding up will be the best of the joke.

Sir Felix.

Joke! I live in a joke. A hearty laugh is my lease of happiness; and on the farm of fun I'll be a tenant for life.

SONG.

While some do love full bowls to quass,

Some like a dog and gun O!

But I a chearful, hearty laugh,

Give me a bit of fun O!

For I'll smile and jest, and do my best,

While life's hour-glass doth run O!

And while I can, tho' an old man,

I'll have a bit of fun O!

I lik'd a lass both brisk and gay,

And after her did run O!

Then whisper'd something in her ear,

For I lov'd a bit of fun O!

So ripe tor sport'and bliss was she,

I thought the business done O!

But when I fain would happy be,

Says she, you're making fun O!

So with laugh, and joke, and mirth, and song,

At length her heart I won O!

And. then to church we went along,

And at night we had fome fun O!

Exeunt.

As sung in London.

Sir Felix.

Some like great bowls to quaff,

Some like a dog and gun;

Give me a hearty laugh,

I love a bit of fun.

I lik'd a maiden's charms

And after her I'd run:

I took her in my arms,

Says I, we'll have some fun

So ripe for sport and play,

I thought the business done;

But when I sain would kiss,

says she, you're making fun.

With joke and laugh and play,

At length her heart I won;

To church we went that day,

At night we had some fun.

Enter Eugene,

Eugene.

I wish I could get an opportunity of speaking to Laura. I won't return to sir Felix in such a perturbed state of mind. Company, conversation is—

Enter Lingo.

Lingo.

Do sir, come in and take a glass, do. Sir pray come in, and bibo a little with your father and Domine Felix. they are gone laughing into the parlour, and I have opened a bottle for 'em.

Eugene.

Well, Lingo, my respect to sir Felix, and I shall do myself the honour of waiting on him at supper.

Lingo.

No, sir, 'tis I that am to wait on him at supper, because I am the butler. Do, pray, sir, come in to meo magister. You'll be heartily welcome to Domine Felix I'm sure; and that the wine, is good, bona veritas I'm sure; for I took two glasses just now at the. side-board.

Eugene.

Why then, pray go in and take another. Primo, secundo, tertio, Mr. Lingo.

Lingo.

Primo, secundo, tertio! Mr. Eugene, you know something, I know a little too. You, have studied. Pray, sir, was you an Oxonian, or a Cantab?

Eugene.

What an infernal fellow!

Half aside

Lingo.

An infernal fellow! O then you wore a square cap.—I'll pose the infernal fellow of Oxford.—Pray, sir, can you decline the amatum supine to a lady that's fine?

Eugene.

I find you are a great scholar Mr. Lingo.

Lingo.

Scholar! I was a master of scholars. Scio scribendo, I can read. Legere, I can write. Tacitorum Latinum, I can speak Latin. But then, quid opus mihi usumque sciente? what need have I of so much knowledge? No one listens to me but Cowslip the dairy-maid; and I admire her sapience, for she's as docile as a young elephant.

SONG.

Amo, amas,

I love a lass

As a cedar tall and slender,

Sweet Cowslips grace

In her nom native case,

And she's of the feminine gender.

Rorum, corum,

Sunt divorum,

Harum scarum divo,

Tag rag merry derry,

Perriwig and hatband,

Hic hoc horum genitivo.

Can I decline

A nymph divine?

Her voice as a flute is dulcis,

Her oculus bright,

Her manus white,

And soft when tacto her pulse is.

Chorus. Rorum corum, &c.

O how bella

My Puella!

I'll kiss in faecula saeculorum;

If I've luck, sir,

She's my uxor,

O dies benedictorum;

Chorus. Rorum corum, &c.

Exit Lingo.

Enter Thomas,

Engene.

Well, Thomas.

Thomas.

I've been taking a mug of ale at the Griffiin, sir; and a lady just come from London desied me to give you that there letter.

Exit.

Eugene.

Mrs. Cheshire's hand, my old Calypso of Tooley-street.

reads.

Sir

I wish I could say dear Eugene; but you know you are unworthy of such an epithet, yet my good-nature obliges me to repeat the offer of my hand, which if you again reject, my attorney has instructions to sue you for the money my goodness lent to your necessity.

Yours, if you please, MARGERY CHESHIRE.

P. S. I and my attorney will be with you immediately.

'Sdeath! to be pestered at such a time with such a fulsome, teazing old fool! her cash that she absolutely forced upon me — What shall I do with her, a filly, ridiculous — Eh! egad! suppose I — Ha, ha, ha! — a thought strikes me. It will involve her in a ridiculous situation. I'll procure her a more honourable reception than she expects. Ha, ha, ha! Yes. Thomas shall set it a-going through the family. I'll tell it him as a secret, and he'll tell it over the house, and the more marvellous the easier swallowed.

Enter Thomas.

Thomas.

O Sir, I've been looking for you The lady got here as soon as her letter. She's in the little parlour, and —

Eugene.

Hush!

Thomas.

Sir! —

Eugene.

Thomas, I know you're honest.

Thomas.

That I am, sir, as any servant in —

Eugene.

Thomas, can you — shut that door; can you keep a great secret?

Thomas.

Leave me alone for that, sir.

Eugene.

O Thomas it's of the greatest consequence. If known, it may lay our country in ruin.

Thomas

I wont tell a word of it, sir.

Eugene.

Not for your soul — Then, you must know — come this, way — that lady that gave you the letter, and that's now in the little parlour, is a Russian Princess.

Thomas.

A Princess!

Eugene.

The Princess Rustifusti. She fought a duel —

Thomas.

A Princess fight a duel!

Eugene.

With a great Count of the holy Roman empire. She was run through the swordarm; but the noble Count's wounds were said to be mortal; so she has fled to England for safety; and if she's discovered, we must give her up: then, Thomas, she'll be beheaded.

Thomas.

Poor noble soul!

Eugene.

Ay Thomas; such a Princess! knows all languages, and English most correctly. Now, Thomas, if you mention this —

Thomas.

Me! not for —

Enter Fringe.

Eugene.

Hush! — not a word, especially to a woman.

Exit.

Fringe.

And why not to a woman pray?

Thomas.

Because its a secret.

Fringe.

A secret! I must know it.

Thomas.

O, Mrs. Fringe, if you would not speak of it —

Fringe.

Come, tell me

Thomas.

Then you must know — shut the door — this way — the great lady in the little parlour is a Russian Princess.

Fringe.

A Princess!

Thomas.

The Princess Rusky Fusky. She killed two Counts of the holy Roman Emperor. She's here incog. And if she's taken, her head will be chopped off. Not a word of that, Mrs. Fringe; for it's a rascally thing to tell a thing once, you're intrusted with it.

Fringe.

So it is indeed, Thomas.

Exit Thomas.

A Princess! I'll wait upon her. She may prefer me to be one of her maids of honour.

Enter John.

John.

Did yon see Mr. Lingo? I want some cake and wine for this strange gentlewoman here in the parlour.

Fringe.

Gentlewoman! well, I find some people know more of some people than some people. But when people intrust people with people's secrets, people are not to tell them to all the people people meet.

John.

Hey! the devil! what a crowd of people's here!

Fringe.

Eh! — no, we're alone. — shut the door — John, if you know — you won't tell any body?

John.

Tell! did I tell of the bottle of burnt claret the other night, though I stole it from Mr. Lingo myself?

Fringe.

No, you have discretion, John, — John, that gentlewoman, as you call her, is — but it is the greatest secret — she is the great Russian Princess Rusky Fusky!

John.

The Princess Rusky Fusky!

Fringe.

She was set upon by five holy Roman Empires. The dear lady had nothing but her fan and her scissars; and with these she defended her honour, with her back against a tree, till she laid the five holy Roman Empires all dead at her feet. If she had staid, she would have had her head severaled from her body; so she called for her own maid, a faithful sensible body like me, one that never blabb'd, — she packed up her portmanteau, crossed the seas, and landed at Blackheath. If she's taken — John don't tell, as her life's in danger.

John.

Her life in danger! damme! if I'd tell for half a crown.

Fringe.

I believe you, John. I assure you I would n't have told you, only I know you can keep a secret as well as myself.

Exit.

John.

Can one get any thing by it though?

Enter Cowslip.

Cowslip.

What cream is wanted for the morning, John?

John.

Ha! my dainty dairy-maid!

Cowslip.

Ha'done, do. I should n't have thought of your impudence, John.

Bell rings.

John.

Zounds! I forgot the wine and cake for the Prin—gad! I'd like to have popt it out.—Ah, Cowslip I could discover —

Cowslip.

I don't care what you discover of me. Why did Mr. Lingo tell then?

John.

What?

Cowslip.

O, nothing.

John.

Damn the old wig-block! he has the ear, and I fancy the lip too of every woman in the house.

Cowslip.

Why, you're as tall, and your leg is not amiss when you're behind the coach. But why don't you speak the Latin tongue?

John.

I've more regard to decency, than to curse and swear to innocent women, because they don't understand me.

Cowslip.

Does Mr. Lingo do so? certain and sure he does come out with his nouns sometimes.

John.

Cowslip, I'll tell you the secret if you'll affront him.

Cowslip.

Ods-daisy! but I'll huff him; will that do? I'll pull his wig. He's mighty proud of his wig. Now what's the secret pray?

John.

The secret is —

Bell rings.

Coming! — don't tell. We 've a great Princess in the house.

Cowslip.

A Princess! ods-daisy! that's fine.

John.

The Russian Princess Rusky Fusky.

Cowslip.

The Princess Rusky Fusky!

John.

She killed six knights of the holy Roman Emperor. She's in disguise here. The constables are after her with a search warrant, and she'll be hanged if she's taken. You have the secret now, and pray keep it, for my sake.

Bell rings.

Coming, coming!

Exit.

Cowslip.

Keep the secret! ay, that I will. — Lord! I'll go to the Princess Rusky Fusky, and then I must make haste to the lawn, or all the sports will be over, and Cudden my sweetheart gone home, or mayhap dance with another girl. — John and Mr. Lingo — Ah! after all, I find Cudden has skimmed the cream of my affections.

SONG.

Lord! what care I for mam or dad?

why let them, scold and bellow;

For while I live I'll love my lad,

He's such a charming fellow.

The last fair-day, on yorder-green,

The youth he danc'd so well O!

So 〈◊〉 a lad was never seen,

As my sweet charming fellow.

The fair over night was come,

The lad was some what mellow;

Says he my dear, I'll see you home —

I thank'd the charming fellow.

We trudg'd along the moon shone bright,

Says he, my sweetest Nelo!

I'll kiss you here by this good night,

Lord what a charming fellow!

You rogue says I, you've s••pp'd my breath,

Ye bells ring out my knell O!

Ag in I'd die so sweet a death

With such a charming fellow.

O here comes Mr. Lingo, with his gibberish and his nonsense.

Enter Lingo.

Lingo.

O my sweetest of Cowslips, dulcis puella! by my dexter and finister manus, your antic Caleb sings Io Poeans to see you.

Cowslip.

What do you say, you're in pain to see me, Mr. Lingo?

Lingo.

Gerunds, declensions, verbs and adverbs;

Cowslip.

I should not ha' thought of your herbs.

Lingo.

Aid me, Amor, the eight parts of speech, singular, plural, nouns and pronouns!

Cowslip.

Mr. Lingo, I does n't love cursing and swearing.

Lingo.

Nominativo hanc, hunc et hoc.

Cowslip.

Hock again! You're drunk with, hock for my part I believe. I desire you'll ha' done, do.

Gives him a push

Lingo.

Ha' done, do! Hear this you azure woods, you purling plains, you verdant skies, you crystal swains, ye feathered fountains, tinkling groves, you cooing kids, ye capering doves! she's in the imperative mood. O damnatus, obstinatus mulier!

Cowslip.

Do you say I'm a damn'd obstinate mule? — How dare you call me names? I'll pull your wig for you, that's what I will.

Pulls his wig

Lingo.

If my scholars was to see me now, they'd never let me whip 'em again in saecula seculorum.

Cowslip.

For all your lorums and larning, I could larn you somewhat, if I had a mind, Mr. Schoolmaster, but it's a great secret, or I could tell you the big lady in the little parlour is the Princess Rusky Fusky! how she killed seven whole Roman Emperors; and how she'll be hanged in chains if she's catch'd; and I could have told you every word of it if I pleased; but you shan't know a syllabuh of it from me, that you shan't, Mr. Schoolmaster.

Exit.

Lingo.

Multum in parvo. What a discreet slut it is to know all this, and wouldn't tell even me, because its a secret! The Princess Rusky Fusky in our house! this is indeed a secret, pro bono publico. This cowslip is the very flower, the daffy-down-diliy of dairy-maids!

SONG.

Of all the pretty flowers

A cowslip's my delight,

With that I'd pass my hours

Both morning, noon and night:

To be sure I would, tol, tol, &c.

This cowslip smell'd so sweetly,

And look'd so fresh and gay,

Says I, you're dress'd so neatly,

We'll have a little play,

To be sure we will, &c.

One evening, in the dairy,

Twas lying on the shelf,

I kiss'd this pretty fairy,

And then lay down myself.

To be sure I did, &c.

This flower one morning early,

Upon a bed did rest;

I loog'd to pull it dearly,

And stick it in my breast.

To be sure I could, &c.

SCENE III.

Enter Eugene.

Eugene.

So, as I expected, my secret has gone through the family, and my cheesemonger is a Russian Princess.

Enter Laura.

Laura.

O Eugene, I hear sir Felix's son is actually arrived.

Eugene.

Then my Laura, though bitter the separation, I bid an eternal adieu to you and happiness.

Laura.

Do you leave the country, Eugene?

Eugene.

Can I stay to see my dearest Laura — think what I would say.

Laura.

Nay, Eugene, do tell me.

Eugene.

Sir Felix's son is arrived, and — Can I see you in the arms of another?

Laura.

Ah, Eugene, if you go — do you, can you think your Laura will stay behind?

Eugene.

Generous Laura!— but sir Felix has set his heart upon your union with his son. To his bounty my father and I owe our very existence. And shall I, like a viper, turn and sting my kind preserver? no Laura. Though in the possession of you, my love, I comprise all hopes of happiness; yet, in my mind, the height of human bliss is dearly gained, when purchased by an action of dishonour.

Laura.

I ask your pardon, sir. — I see my error. — I shan't be ungrateful to sir Felix — I'll give my hand where he commands, though my heart may burst— Oh! Eugene, I did not think you'd use me thus.

SONG.

Ah! why take back the vows you gave,

Or wish to part with mine;

My heart is still your willing slave,

Though yours I must resign.

A bird those vows did first engage,

Tho' anxious to remain,

Enamour'd of his golden cage,

You'd now let loose again.

You've lull'd me in a dream of love,

A gay illusive show,

And when the substance I would prove,

You wake me into woe.

Eugene.

I cannot bear this, and fear love must triumph over gratitude. — And have you fortitude Laura, to face the world with me;

Laura.

Try me. And not even the elements shall part your faithful Laura from her beloved Engene.

Eugene.

Generous Laura!

SONG.

My Laura, will you trust the seas,

For poor Eugene quit home and case.

And certain peril prove?

Then constancy,

Our pilot be,

As all our freight is love.

Our hark shall bravely stem the tide.

Till skies clear up, and storms subside,

And peace returns her dove;

If constancy

Our pilot be,

As all our freight is love. Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Draws and discover Mrs. Cheshire sitting down Lingo, John and William ceremoniously waiting,

Mrs. C.

My patience is almost wearied out. Very strange I can't see Eugene. — Oh dear! a glass of water, if you please.

John.

Yes Madam.

Lingo.

Madam! John don't know she's a princess; and I can't do her proper homage before these Cyclops. John, yon may bo'h retire.

John.

Mr. Lingo's not in the secret.

Aside.

Mr. Liago, pray bow respectfully to her.

Lingo.

Do you teach me that have teached hundreds? centum, docintum, you vile lictor! take your face out of the room, go. An't I the domestic god, the very Lary of the family? go.

Exit John

Don't be afraid. Nobody knows yon but me.

Mrs. C.

These Kentish servants are very civil.

Enter Cowslip, with a bowl.

Cowslip.

Some of our English cream for your royal reverence!

Kneeling

Mrs. C.

My royal reverence!

Lingo.

Take the glass, please your catholio majesty.

Mrs. C.

My catholic Majesty!

Lingo.

Cowslip, leave the presence.

Cowslip.

I have no more presents than the bowl of cream.

Lingo.

Cream! you shallow Pomona!

Cowslip.

Well, till now I always thought your great Russians wore whiskers.

Exit.

Lingo.

Don't mind that girl, most learned Mufty. She's a mere English Druid, most divine bard.

Enter John, with cake.

Lingo.

John, this honour is too great —

John.

Mr. Lingo, I was ordered —

Lingo.

John, I do not love a common Demosthenus.

John.

Sir, I —

Lingo.

Go out, unmannerly homo, go!

Exit John.

The most impudent canus in our domus.

Mrs. C.

This is wine. A glass of water, if you please.

Lingo.

In vino veritas. You get not water in this house. Some cake for your faithful majesty.

Mrs. C.

My majesty! O, this is mere diversion.— I sent a letter just now from the Griffin to Mr. Eugene.

Lingo.

You sent it! Yes, he got a letter from the Griffin. — Take some cake. Vivitur, we live by eating and drinking, please your grace's holiness.

Mrs. C.

My grace's holiness! pray harkee, Sir, does your master tolerate you to — but I — I'm cool.

Lingo.

Cool! she wants the Russian stove. We have no such in England, great Ottoman; but I'll immediately get you a chasing-dish of hot coals for your sublime port.

Exit.

Enter Fringe.

Fringe. Kneeling.

Please your royal highness!

Mrs. C.

My royal highness!

Fringe.

I am my young lady's own woman, your royal highness.

Mrs. C.

I am no royal highness, madam.

Fringe.

O! I know your royal highness very well; but I'd scorn to betray your royal highness, as it was in defence of your virtue you killed the Roman Emperors!

Mrs. C.

I kill the Roman Emperors!

Fringe.

A Russian princess! — Give me our o•• •oy•• family after all!

Exit.

Mrs. C.

All mad in this house, I believe.

Enter Lingo, with a cloak.

Lingo.

You will have the hot coals presently. In the mean time throw this Russian fur cloak over you. Mr. Compton wore it in your cold Eastern ports. You were wounded in the sword-arm, great Rustifusti.

Mrs. C.

Yes, this fellow's mad.

Aside

Lingo.

Those Roman Emperors that attacked you were mere Tarquins. Depend upon it, that chair is too low for your highness. Here is another. It is higher, and more fitter for your eminence.

Enter Thomas. (Kneels.

Thomas.

Your highness is discovered.

Whispering.

Mrs. C.

Highness! all mad. I've got into Bedlam sure.

Aside.

Lingo. Laying hold of Thomas.

Whisper a princess! why, Thomas, you fancy yourself Cardinal Wolsey in this house.

Thomas.

O! if you knew Mr. Lingo, —

Lingo.

What? Quid opus?

Thomas.

A secret. I met an attorney and a bailiff at the door.

Lingo.

An attorney! — turn out.

Turns him out.

Mrs. C.

It's my lawyer. Open the door.

Lingo.

Let in an attorney! — are you mad, great potentate? — Oh, oh!

Mrs. C.

Open the door.

Lingo.

The lawyer wilt betray you, commander of the faithful.

Mrs. C.

Open the door, I say!

Lingo.

Sit quiet, great Rustifusti.

Mrs. C.

Am I to be shut up here with a madman? Open the door I insist.

Rises.

Lingo.

Her serene highness is in a passion, She'll never be taken alive. Yes, she'll kill the attorney. There is a case of pistols. There is a broad fword. Heavens! how she'll fight! here, now, defend yourself, brave Rustifusti. —

Mrs. C.

Open the door I say.

Lingo.

Yes, she'll shoot the attorney. Stay, till I get up here. — Now prime, and fire away, brave Bellona.

Enter Sir Felix and Compton.

Sir Felix.

Don't be alarmed, princess. Though your person's known here, you're safe by all the laws of hospitality.

Lingo.

Stand out of the way, Domine Felix, till Rustifusti shoots the attorney.

Compton.

Why this is Mrs. Cheshire, our Southwark cheesemonger.

Lingo.

A chesemonger! O Coelnm et terra! and have I studied Syntax, Cordery, Juvenal, and Tistram Shandy, to serve wine on my knee to a mighty cheesemonger! — But there is one thing I can never forgive in saecula saeculorum.

Compton.

What's that, Lingo?

Lingo.

Her not shooting the attorney.

Exit.

Enter Chicane.

Chicane.

So, so, the partly has absconded.

Mrs. C.

Eugene!

Sir Felix.

My son run away!

Chicane.

With the young lady of the house I think.

Compton.

My daughter!

Sir Felix.

Tol, lol, lol! — Ha, ha, ha! This is good. To avoid each other, gone off together. Ha, ha, ha! I am so happy.

Enter Eugene and Laura.

Sir Felix.

So, you two ran away to be married I suppose?

Eugene.

With that intention, Sir, I confess.

Laura.

Dear Sir Felix, the fault was mine; but Eugene's mind is replete with honour, and he has made me a proselyte. O Sir! he has my affections. I here return to my obedience, with hopes a son of yours will never accept my hand, when my heart is possessed by another.

Sir Felix.

Refused a fine girl rather than violate the tie of honour and gratitude! — My Eugene! my son! take the blessing of a father; for I now with pride acknowledge you.

Eugene. To Compton

Sir! —

Compton.

'Tis true, Eugene. Sir Felix claims your fillal duty.

Eugene.

I'm surprised!

Sir. Felix.

Yes, I love to surprise people.

Laura.

Dear Sir!

to Sir Felix.

your blessing and forgiveness.

Kneeling.

Sir Felix.

Kneel there, Laura. His right is prior to mine.

Laura.

Mr. Compton! —

Compton.

Yes, Laura, in me you behold an affectionate parent; but next to heaven you owe your thanks to that benevolent man.

Mrs. C.

Well, I'll be revenged if it cost me half the cheese in my shop.

Sir Felix.

Stay, widow. Egad! I've surprised you. Suppose you surprise me in turn, and marry the attorney?

Mrs. C.

I own Mr. Chicane is an honest man, but —

Sir Felix.

Honest! take him home — Bring an honest attorney over London Bridge with you, and you'll surprise all Tooley-street.

Enter Lingo.

Lingo.

I hear of a wedding going to be, Domine Felix, therefore I will write a latin epitaph for the pair of bridegrooms, wherein I'll provoke the patronage of Cupid, Thomas a Becket, Sir Godfry Kneller, and Helley O'Gabalus.

Sir Felix.

Let me have no more of your damn'd Godfreys and Gabalussus. Lay the cloth, and surprise us with a good wedding supper.

Eugene.

A wedding! Is it possible —

Sir Felix.

Yes, boy, possible, ay, and probable too. I've surprised you with the girl of your heart, and a good fortune. Is not this an Agreeable Surprise?

FINALE.

Sir Felix.

A kiss, my girl; your hand, my boy;

There, now each anxious trouble ends;

Yet, be it still my greatest joy

With blessings to surprise my friends.

CHORUS,

Each jovial heart he pleas'd this night —

What blessings in good-humour lies!

And prospects yield more sweet delight

By an agreeable surprise.

Laura and Eugene.

In purest robes of radiant light

Diana Ceres, Hymen, come.

You've bless'd the day, so crown this night,

Our birth-day, wedding, harvest come.

Mrs. C.

Great Rustifusti now no more

Nor Russian princess here incog!

But widow Cheshire as before,

And for a husband still agog!

Crompton.

Uncertain yet our poets fate,

Tis your award must fix his doom;

Applaud with joy he'll celebrate

Our birth-day, wedding, harvest home.

Lingo.

For omnae bene he applies,

His DEAD ALIVE in critics paw,

Forgive th' AGREEABLE SURPRISE,

And spare him for his Son-in-Law.

CHORUS.

Each jovial heart be pleas'd this night, &c.

Information about this book

Title statement

The agreeable surprise: A comic opera. In two acts. By Mr. O'Keefe. The music composed by Dr. Arnold.

O'Keeffe, John, 1747-1833.

Publication

Distributor

University of Oxford Text Archive
Oxford University Computing Services
13 Banbury Road
Oxford
OX2 6NN
ota@oucs.ox.ac.uk

ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3333

ID [isbn10]

1106003322

ID [isbn13]

9781106003324

ID [TCP]

K001312.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3312773663

ID [ECLL]

0160702800

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— The agreeable surprise: A comic opera. In two acts. By Mr. O'Keefe. The music composed by Dr. Arnold., O'Keeffe, John, 1747-1833.. 36p. ; 12⁰. Newry :: printed by R. Stevenson,. 1783.. [Reproduction of original from the Harvard University Houghton Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCN2031.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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