The register-office: a farce of two acts. Acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. By J. Reed.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- PROLOGUE.

- DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

- ACT I. SCENE, A genteel Apartment.

- ACT II. Scene continues.

- ADVERTISEMENT.

THE REGISTER-OFFICE.

The END.

THE REGISTER-OFFICE: A FARCE OF TWO ACTS.

ACTED at the THEATRE-ROYAL in Drury-Lane.

By J. REED.

DUBLIN: Printed for H. SAUNDERS, R. WATTS, and W. WHITESTONE, Booksellers in Skinner-row.

M,DCC,LXI.

PROLOGUE.

Spoken by Mr. KING.

THE Bard, whose Hopes on Comedy depend,

Must strive Instruction with Delight to blend;

While He, who bounds his less aspiring Views

To Farce, the Combrush of the comic Muse,

With Pleasantry alone may fill the Scene—

His Business chiefly this; to cure the Spleen;

To raise the pensive Mind from Grave to Gay,

And help to laugh a thoughtful Hour away.

If any quibbling Wit dispute my Thesis,

Pd ask the Use of half our petty Pieces?

Nay, Sirs, My Question still shall higher climb—

Pray what's the Use of full-pric'd Pantomime?

How does the pleasur'd Eye with Rapture glance

When mingling Witches join in hobbling Dance!

When wriggling Harlequin, the magic Sage,

In horn-pipe Amble traverses the Stage!

When trembling Pierrot in his Quivering shines,

An Ostrich enters, or a Serpent twines!

When headless Taylors raise the laughing Fit,

Or flour-dredg'd Footmen twirl upon a Spit!—

But oh! How loud the Roar, how dear the Rumble,

When Scaffolds, Mortar-Boards, and Bricklayers tumble!

When Clodpate runs, or limps, or quaintly rears

From Laundress-Tub his anabaptist Ears!

While all the Wit, these Exhibitions draw,

Is comprehended in a Cry—O Laa!

Our Author, in this awful Court of Drury,

Submits his Cause to an impartial Jury.

No friendly Junto he to-night employs

To catch, by favouring Hands, the public Voice:

He founds on British Candour all his Trust,

Convinc'd a British Audience will be Just.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

MEN

- HARWOOD, BY Mr. AUSTIN.

- FRANKLY, Mr. BADDELEY.

- GULWELL, Mr. PACKER.

- WILLIAMS, Mr. ACKMAN.

- Lord BRILLIANT, Mr. CASTLE.

- Capt. Le BRUSH, Mr. KING.

- TRICKIT, Mr. FOX.

- SCOTCHMAN, Mr. FOOTE.

- IRISHMAN, Mr. MOODY.

- FRENCHMAN, Mr. BLAKES.

WOMEN.

- MARIA, Miss REED.

- MARGERY, Mrs. KENNEDY.

- Lady WRINKLE,

- Mrs. SNAREWELL,

[*]

Footmen, two Chairmen, and a Highland Piper.

SCENE, LONDON.

Notes

*
These two Characters were not permitted to be play'd.
↵

ACT I. SCENE, A genteel Apartment.

Enter HARWOOD and FRANKLY.

Fran.

WELL, this is the most unexpected Visit!— but prithee, Harwood, what in the Name of Mystery, hath brought thee to town at this unfashionable Time of the Year?

Har.

The Loss of my fair Housekeeper.

Fran.

The Loss of Maria!—Is she dead?

Har.

Worse, my dear Frankly—elop'd.

Fran.

Elop'd! Why I thought you had so great a Regard for each other, that you had been as inseparable as old Age and Avarice, or a Coquette and a Looking-Glass.

Har.

I thought so too: but Women are as changeable as their Dresses: there is no answering for the Humours of the Sex —tho' Faith I cannot altogether excuse myself in the Affair of our Parting.

Fran.

Prithee explain.

Har.

You know, Charles, after the Death of my Wise, whom, with Shame I must own, I never thoroughly, lov'd, as she was not mine but my Father's Choice. I prevail'd on Maria, who was either beggar'd by an unnatural Father or a villainous Uncle, to take upon her the Care of my Family. — Her good Sense, Beauty, and Behaviour, imperceptibly won my Heart; but my Pride forbidding me to marry a Woman without a Fortune, I made use of every Means in my Power to—gain her Affections.

Fran.

I understand you: to gain them in the old Way.

Har.

But the fair Maria was so much upon her Guard, or so obstinately virtuous, that nothing but downright Matrimony would induce her to listen to my Sollicitations.

Fran.

An unreasonable Gipsy! And so you dropp'd the Affair?

Har.

Not quite so hasty in your Conclusions, good Sir.—After a vast Profusion of lying and swearing, which fail'd of the desir'd Success, I determin'd to make my grand Attack.

Fran.

Resolv'd like a Man of Spirit!

Har.

And accordingly one Night the last Week,

When ev'ry Eye was clos'd, and the pale Moon

And Stars alone shone conscious of the Theft,

Hot with the Gallic Grape, and high in Blood,

and so forth, I began my Assault.

Fran.

Bravo!

Har.

It would be needless to tell thee I was repuls'd. —In short, the dear, lovely, affronted, virtuous Maria, so highly resented the Familiarity, that she instantly left the House, and from that Hour I have not set Eye on the fair Enslaver.

Fran.

And so you are come to Town to hire a new Housekeeper?

Har.

No; to marry my old one, if I can be so fortunate as to encounter her.—I must have her!—I cannot be easy without her.—I have some faint Hopes of meeting with her, as she was seen on the London Road.— Which do you think the most likely Way of finding her out?

Fran.

Hum!—this requires some thought—ay—Pray what do you think of a penitential Advertisement?

Har.

No hang it! Should I be discovered for the Author, it would make me too ridiculous.

Fran.

That's true I must confess—stay—do you imagine she will be looking after another Place?

Har.

I fancy she will, as her Finances must below.

Fran.

Then the only Method I can put you into is an. Application to some of our Intelligence-Warehouses.

Har.

I don't understand your cant Phrase: Pray what: do you mean by an Intelligence-Warehouse?

Fran.

A Register-Office.

Har.

Oh! I take you! the Places where Servants may be heard of.—Pray were not these Offices invented by the ingenious Author of Tom Jones?

Fran.

They were.—The Project hath been, and still is of great Utility to the Publick; but as there is no general Rule without an Exception, this laudable Institution hath been strangely perverted, thro' the Villainy and Avarice of some of it's Managers.—There is an old Rascal in this Neighbourhood, who hath amass'd a tolerable Fortune by Abuses of this Kind. His Office is frequented by Persons of every Degree; and, among it's other Conveniences, the good old Trade of Pimping is carried on with great Success and Decency. I believe as many Proselytes have been made to the Flesh, by the Knavery of this Rascal, as by the most successful Bawd in Town.

Har.

So, I find the old Fellow is a Genius in his Way?

Fran.

A complete one. — Our old School-fellow, Jack: Williams, is his Clerk, from which honourable Employment he retires in a few Days to a Stewardship, to which I have lately recommended him.—By his Means I have often had an Opportunity of overhearing some Passages, which have afforded great Humour and Entertainment.

Har.

If my Heart were not so full for the Loss of this dear Woman, I could like to throw away an Hour in an Amusement of this Kind.

Fran.

That you may this very Morning if you please— I'll introduce you — It will help to dissipate your Melancholy for the Loss of your fair Deserter.

Har.

Psha! I am not in a Humour to relish any Pleasantry —excuse me, Charles—some other Time I'll accept of your Offer.

Fran.

Since you are so serious, I must insist on your going — Why thou art as melancholy as a superseded Placeman—Come; come, George, don't despair! — I warrant we will find out it's Charmer in a few Days—You must go with me, Harwood.

Har.

Then I am ready to attend you.

Fran.

Allons donc. Exeunt.

Scene, a Register-Office.

Enter WILLIAMS.

Wil.

The Business of the Morning is partly over— What a croud of deluded Females have flock'd to this Office within these three Hours, in Expectation of the imaginary Place we have advertis'd! — A Register-Office, under the Direction of so conscientious a Person as Mr. Gulwell, instead of a publick Good, becomes a publick Evil—My upright Master seldom feels any Reflections of this Kind! Avarice is his leading Principle; and so long as he can swell his Bags, by the Folly or Credulity of Mankind, he will not suffer Conscience to hinder him in his Pursuit of Gain—Mr. Frankly! —à propos! I must have his Opinion of this Letter—'tis an Affair too serious to be conniv'd at.

Enter HARWOOD and FRANKLY.

Fran.

Mr. Williams, your Servant.

Wil.

Sir, your most obedient.

Fran.

I am come to ask the Favour of your giving this Gentleman an Opportunity of overhearing the Humours of the Register-Office.

Wil.

Sir, you could not impose on me a more welcome Command—Sir—I beg Pardon for my Freedom—if I mistake not I had the Honour of being your Schoolfellow —Your Name I think is Harwood?

Har.

It is, Sir —I am very glad to see you, Mr. Williams.

Wil.

Come, Sir, this is no Time for Compliments: I expect my Master every Minute—there is your Way, Sir—you may see all that come in thro' the Blind—pray slip the Spring-Lock for fear of a Surprize from my master—if he offer to unlock the Door, Mr. Frankly, you'll step into my Bedchamber —to your Posts, Gentlemen: I think I hear him coming. Exeunt Harwood and Frankly.

Enter GULWELL.

Gul.

So this Advertisement has brought in two Pounds thirteen shillings—no very bad Morning's Work—Well, thanks to the Memory of our witty Eounder, say I! Had he not luckily hit on the Scheme of a Register-Office, I might have dangled on at Quill-driving without ever being worth a Groat.

Wil.

But, Sir, do you think this Calling of ours the most conscientious one in the World?—I begin to imagine my old Employment the Law the more honest Profession of the two.

Gul.

Mr. Williams, there is Roguery in all the Employments under the Sun. Every Day's Experience will convince you, that there is no getting through the World without a necessary Portion of Trick and Chicanery.

Wil.

Sir, if the Imposture of this very Advertisement were sound out and duly punish'd, one or both of us would stand a fair Chance for the Pillory. How many poor Girls have this Morning been stripped of perhaps their last Shilling, by being amused with the Hopes of the Place we have advertised—In Faith, Sir, some of our Profession are little better than downright Pickpockets— I am glad I shall have the good Fortune to leave it so soon.

Gul.

Mr. Williams, I am truly sorry for our Separation, yet rejoice at the Occasion of it—however, if you hope to make a Fortune in your alter'd Condition of Life, you must learn to keep your Conscience in proper Subordination. I can assure you, that Fraud is as necessary a Requisite in a Stewardship, as in an Intelligence-Office. — Is there no Message from Dr. Skinflint about the Welch Living?

Wil.

Yes, Sir: he says as Curates are so cheap in Wales, he will not take less than a thousand Guineas.

Gul.

A spiritual Curmudgeon! Why it is not quite a hundred a Year—I forgot to ask if you call'd at Captain Sparkle's last Night?

Wil.

I did, Sir, and was surprised to see him so greatly recover'd.

Gul.

Ay, I thought he would grow better after the Embarkation! I never supposed him in any very great Danger, because he refus'd eight hundred Guineas for his Commission, when his Life was said to be despair'd of — Have you finish'd the Assignment of the Surgeoncy?

Wil.

No, Sir.

Gul.

Then get it done, Mr. Williams — stay—you must write an Advertisement for the Daily—any Time this Afternoon will do—of an Employment to be disposed of in Ireland of a thousand Pounds per Annum, which requires little Learning or Attendance, and may be executed by a Deputy — Remember to add, that Secrecy is requir'd, and none but Principals need to apply.

Wil.

I forgot to tell you, the young Gentleman was here, to know if you had receiv'd an Answer about the Secretary's Place.

Gul.

Truly I am sorry I cannot succeed—Fifteen hundred Guineas were insisted on—I pleaded the young Gentleman's acknowledged Merit, and the publick Services of his brave Father, who lost his Life in fighting for his Country, which so softened my Principal, that he sunk his Demand from—

Wil.

Fifteen to five hundred, I hope?

Gul.

From Guineas to Pounds: I could get no further Abatement.

Wil.

It is a Pity that such extraordinary Merit should have no better Success.

Gul.

Ah! Mr. Williams, if Places were given to Persons of Merit only, the Lord have Mercy upon many a big-looking Family—away! here's Company a coming! Exit Williams. Heyday! Who have we here? By his looks he must be one of the Tribe of the Soup Maigres!

Enter a Frenchman.

French.

Be votre Nom Monsieur le Gulville?

Gul.

It is, Sir—Your Business?

French.

Site, me be tell dat dere be de grand Nombre of des Academies Françoises in Londres, an me vould be glad to be employer as un Maitre de Langues. Me speak a de Frens vid de vrai Prononciation; an you see beside ma Connoissance in de Langue Angloise be not de most inconsiderable.

Gul.

O yes, Sir, you speak very pretty English I must own — pray what business have you been bred to?

French.

Bisness! do you means to front a me? me be von of de Gens de Qualité.

Gul.

How, Sir, a Person of Quality, and so poor as to be seeking after a Livelihood?

French.

Vy vere be de vonders of all dat? Noting be more commune in France—Me dit indeed sometime, pour passer le Temps, amuser my sel vid curl a de Air, and cut a de Corn of mine Comrades of Qualité of bot Sex.

Gul.

Sir, if you be a Proficient in these Sciences, I give Joy with all my Heart, for I don't know a more profitable Calling in London: nay, nor a more reputable one; for it's Professors are caress'd by Persons of the first Fashion and Distinction — There's your Countryman Monsieur Frizzellette de la Corneille, a Hair and Corn-Cutter in St. James's, that keeps his Chariot, tho' 'tis scarce half a score Years since he would have made a Bow to the Ground for a Bellyfull of Soup-Maigre — Sir, I will cook you up an Advertisement, as long as a Proclamation, that will effectually do your Business: In the mean Time I shall give Orders for one of the Laconic Kind, to hang in golden Letters over your Door, as ‘Hair and Corns cut after the French Taste by a Person of Quality.’

French.

Ay dat vill do ver vel! Par une Personne de Qualité.

Gul.

But, Sir, as you are a Man of Rank, you may perhaps think it below your Dignity to follow any Profession, that has the least Appearance of Business?

French.

Non, non, Monsieur: tout au contraire.

Gul.

Then I dare venture to say, that in less than a dozen Years you will be rich enough to return to your native Country, and marry a Princess of the Blood—How in the Name of Wonder could you think of being a pitiful Teacher of French for a Livelihood, when you are possessed of Talents, superior to all the Learning in the World?

French.

Me vill tell you, Monsieur—It be not more as dix leven—douze—tirteen —ay tirteen Year, since mon Cousin com'd over to l' Angleterre to teash a de Frens in de Boarding-Ecole—Vell, he dit engager de Affection of de Angloise Lady, sa belle Ecoliere, runn'd avay vid her, and so begar he getted de Vife, vid not less as von hunder tousan Livres—Now, as mon Cousin could marrier de Lady, vid so much of de l'Argent, vy may not me ope to do de same?

Gul.

True, Sir: but there's an ugly Act of Parliament since that Time, which hinders you Fortune-hunting Gentlemen from gaining such Wives—Well, Sir, you will deposit a small Sum; two or three Guineas or so, and I shall begin the Advertisement.

French.

Hey! vat you say! deposit!—Je ne entens pas deposit.

Gul

O, Sir, I'll soon explain it!—Deposit signifies—

French.

Non, non, mon chere Ami!—it be impossible for me to know vat you means; for me do not understand un Mot de Langue Angloise.

Gul.

Why, Sir, I thought your Connoissance in de Langue Angloise had not been de most inconsiderable? (mimicking him.

French.

O Monsieur!—but dat—dat—dat vas anoder ting.

Gul.

Well, Sir, I must have two or three Guineas, by Way of Earnest, before I proceed any further in your Business.

French.

Two tree Ginee! begar! me could so soon give you two tree Million—Vat you take a me for? Un grand Voleur? von Tief?—You tink me ave rob you Inglise Exchequer; for all de Vorld know Dat of mine Countree ave scarce so mush to be rob of—Let a me see—me ave no more as von Chelin,—an von,—two,—tree alf Pence.

Gul.

Thirteen Pence Halfpenny! a very critical Sum in England—Well, Sir, you may leave that in part: I must give you credit for the Remainder. Frenchman gives him Money.

French.

Dere, Sir—An so, Monsieur le Gulvelle, you tink en Verité me sal ride in my Coash?

Gul.

Not at all impossible—Call again in a Week, and you shall see what I have done for you.

French.

Begar! you ave elever mine 'Art—Sire, me be votre tres humble, tres obligé, & tres devote, Serviteur —O mon Dieu! Ride in my Carosse! Exit.

Gul

Your most humble Servant, good Monsieur le Carosse—If it were not for the Credulity of Mankind, what a Plague would become of us Office-keepers!

Enter MARGERY.

Mar.

Sur, an I may be so bold, I'se come to ax an ye've sped about t' Woman Servant, at ye advertis'd for.

Gul.

I have not—Come nearer, young Woman.

Mar.

Let me steck't Deer first, an ye please. Shuts the Door.

Gul.

What Countrywoman are you?

Mar

I'se Yorkshire, by my truly! I was bred an bworn at Little Yatton, aside Roseberry Topping.

Gul.

Roseberry Topping! Where is that, my pretty Maid?

Mar.

Certainly God! ye knaw Roseberry? I thought ony Fule had knawn Roseberry—Its' t' biggest Mountain in oll Yorkshire—It's aboun a Mile an a hofe high; an as coad as Ice at 'top on't i't hettest Summer's Day— that it is.

Gul.

You've been in some Service, I suppose?

Mar.

Ay, I'll uphode ye have I, ever sin I was neen Year ald Nay, makins, I'd a God's-penny at Stowslah Market, aboun hofe a Year afore at I was neen—An as good a Servant I've been, thof I say't mysel, as ever came within a pair o Deers—I can Milk, Kurn, Fother, Bake, Brew, Sheer, Winder, Card, Spin, Knit, Sew, and do every Thing at belangs to a Husbandman, as weel as ony Lass, at ever ware Clog-Sheen: An as to my Karecter, I defy ony Body, gentle or simple, to say Black'smy Nail.

Gul.

Have you been in any place in London?

Mar.

Ay, an ye please—I liv'd wi Madam Shrillpipe, in St. Pole's Kirk-Garth, but was forc'd to leave my Place, afore at I had been a week o Days in't.

Gul.

How so.

Mar.

Marry becose she ommost flighted an scauded me out o my Wits — She wast arrantest Scaud, at ever I met wi in my bworn Days—She had seerly sike a Tongue, as never was in ony Woman's Head, but her awn—It wad ring, ring, ring, ring, ring like a Larum frae Mworn to Neeght—The she wad put hersel into sike Flusters, that her Face wad be as black as't Reeking-Crook—Nay for that Matter I was nobut rightly sarra'd; for I was tell'd aforehand, by some verra sponsible Fwoke, at she was a meer Donnot: howsomesever as I fand my Money grow less an less every Day (for I had brought my good seven an twonty Shilling to neen Groats an two Pence) I thought it wad be better to take up wi a bad Place, than nea Place at oll.

Gul.

And how do you like London?

Mar.

Marry, Sur, I like nowther Egg, nor Shell on't —They're sike a Set o Fwoke, as I never saw wi my Eyn—They laugh an flier at a Body like ony Thing — I went nobut t'other Day ti't Baker's Shop for a Lafe o Bread, an they fell a giggling at me, as if I'd been yan o't greatest Gawvisons i't Warld — Do you think, Sur, at I look ought like a Gawison?

Gul.

Not in the least, my pretty Damsel.

Mar.

They may bwoast as they will o their Manners, but they've nea mare Manners than a Miller's Horse, I can tell them that; that I can—I wish I had been still at canny Yatton!

Gul.

As you have so great a Liking to the Place, why would you leave it?

Mar.

Marry, Sur, I was forc'd, as yan may say, to leav't!—The Squire wad not let me be—by my truly, Sur, he was after me Mworn, Noon, an Neeght—If I wad but ha consented to his wicked Ways, I might a had Gould by Gopins; that I might—Lo ye, Squire, says I, you're mista'en o me! I'se nane o thea sort o Cattle— I'se a vartuous young Woman, I'll asseer ye—Ye're others Fwoke's Fwoke—Wad ye be sike a Taystrell as to ruin me?—But oll wadn't do: he kept following an following, and teizing an teizing me—At lang run I tell'd my ald Dame, and she advised me to gang to London to be out of his way; that she did like an honest Woman as she was—I went to my Cousin Ishbell, an says I to her, Ishbell says I, come will you goway to London? —An tell'd her the hale Affair atween me an the Squire— Odsbeed! says she, my Lass, I'll gang wi thee ti t Warld's End—An away we come in good yearnest.

Gul.

It was a very vartuous Resolution—Pray how old are you?

Mar.

I'se ninteen come ald haly Even.

Gul.

Would you undertake a Housekeeper's Place?

Mar.

I'se flaid I cannot manege't, unless it were in a Husband-Man's House!

Gul.

It is a very substantial Farmer's in Buckinghamshire —I am sure you will do—I'll set you down for it — Your Name?

Mar.

Margery Moorpout, an ye please.

Gul.

How do you spell it?

Mar.

Nay, makins, I knaw nought o Speldering—I'se nea Schollard

Gul.

Well, I shall write to him this Evening—What Wages do you ask?

Mar.

Nay marry, for that Matter, I wad'nt be ower stiff about Wage.

Gul.

then I can venture to assure you of it—You must give me half a Crown, my pretty Maid—Our Fee is only a Shilling for a common Place; but for a Housekeeper's we have always half a Crown.

Mar.

There's twea Shilling, an yan—twea—three— four—fave—six pen'north o Brass, with a thousand Thanks —God's Prayer light o you! for I'se seer ye'rt'best Friend, I have met wi sine I come frae canny Yatton: that you are—When shall I coll again, Sur?

Gul.

About the Middle of the next Week.

Mar.

Sur, an ye please, gud Mworning to you. Exit.

Gul.

Good Morning to you, dear, vartuous Mrs. Margery Moorpout — So this is a Specimen of Yorkshire Simplicity; that it is—More Customers!

Enter an Irishman.

Irish.

My dear Honey, I am com'd to shee, if you have Commiferashon enough in your Bowelsh to a poor Irishman, to get him a Plaish.

Gul.

What sort of a Place are you fit for?

Irish.

Upon my Shalwashon, Joy, d'ye see, I am fit for any Plaish alive! I have Strength and Bonesh enough in this Carcash of mine, to do all the Work in the World.

Gul.

Have you ever been in Service?

Irish.

In Shervish! No to be sure I have not—Yes, by St. Patrick, ever since after I was so big as a Potatoe!

Gul.

With whom did you last live?

Irish.

With Squire Maclellan of Killybegs.

Gul.

Killybegs! Where the Duce is that?

Irish.

Why where the Devil should it be but in Ireland, my dear Honey?

Gul.

But what Part of Ireland?—What Province?— What County?

Irish.

It is in the Provinsh of Donegal, in the County of Ulster. It is an Inland Seaport Town, where they catch the best pickled Herrings in all England—By my set! he was the best Man of a Maishter between Derry and Youghal — Arra! I shall never live so well with nobody else, unless I go back to live with him again!

Gul.

As he was so good a Master, how came you to leave him?

Irish.

Leave him, Joy! Becase he wanted to make a Bug and a Fool of me. When I went to go to Plough and Harrow, he would insist on yoking the dear Creatures the Mulesh by the Necks, instead of the Tailsh.

Gul.

The Tails! Why, is that the Irish Custom in Ploughing?

Irish.

Ay, upon my Conscience, it is, Joy! and the best Cushtom, that ever was born in the World — I'll give you a Reason for it, Honey — You know when the Trashes is sasten'd to the Tail, all the rest of the Body is free; and when all the Carcash but the Tail goes along, the Tail must shertainly follow it—Besides, Honey, all the World knows the Strength of every human Creature lies in the Tail—Arra! He wanted to bodder me with his dam English Tricks, but the Devil burn me, if honest Paddy would not have left twenty Plaishes, if he had been in them all at once, sooner than be put out of the Way of his Country!

Gul.

You were certainly in the Right! I commend your Spirit—But pray how have you liv'd since you came to London?

Irish.

Liv'd, Honey! As a great many lives in London; no body knows how—by my Shoul! I have only picked up five Thirteens for these four Weeks and a half!

Gul.

A special raw-bon'd Fellow this! He will do for America—I must send Word to my nephew Trappum— Would you like to go abroad, Friend?

Irish.

Ay, my dear Honey; any way in England, or in Scotland; but I would not like, d'ye see, to live out of my native Kingdom.

Gul.

Oh! It's only a very short Voyage! A little round the Land's-End—A Gentleman hath taken a very considerable Farm in the West, and if I could prevail on him to hire you, you would have the sole management of it—'Twould be the making of you—You can write, I suppose?

Irish.

Yes, upon my Conscience, that I can very well!—My Mark, Honey; that's all—But that's Nothing, my dear; I could get any Body to write for me, if they did but know how.

Gul.

That's true—Well, I shall see the Gentleman this Evening, and have a little close Talk with him about you.

Irish.

Upon my Shoul, the most shivilest Person, dye see, that ever I met with since I was an Irishman! Aside.

Gul

Where do you lodge, Friend?

Irish.

At the Harp and Spinning-Wheel in Farthing-Fields; Wapping; in a Room of my own, that I hire at Nine-pence a Week.

Gul.

Your Name?

Irish.

Patrick O Carrol.

Gul.

O Carrol! Give me your Hand—we must be Cousins—my great Grand-Mother was an O Carrol

Irish.

Was she by St. Patrick? Then we must be Cushins sure enough!—Where was she born?

Gul.

At what do you call the Place where Squire O Carrol lives?

Irish

What Provost O Carrol?

Gul.

Ay, the Provost.

Irish

Oh! You're a soft Lad! you don't know it was Ballyshanny?

Gul

Right! That is the very Place!—Well, Cousin, I should like to be better acquainted with you.

Irish.

And so should poor Paddy, by my set—You cannot conceive how my heart dances in the inside of my Bowelsh, to see a Relashon in this Part of the World, where I expected to see no body at all; — do, Honey, put your Head here to feel — fet, Joy, it beats, and beats, and beats, and jumps about in my Belly like a brustled Pea upon a red hot Fire-Shovel — Arra! I knew you to be better half an Irishman, by your Shivility to Strangers!

Gul.

Ay, I wish I were wholly so! but it was my Misfortune to be born in England.

Irish.

Upon my Conscience, that was almost poor Paddy's Misfortune too! I was begot in England, but as good Luck would have it, I went over to Ireland to be born.

Gul.

Well, Cousin, if you will call on me To-morrow-Morning, I hope I shall be able to give you Joy of your Place.

Irish.

I shall, my dear Cushin — Arra! Now if I was but my Father, who has been dead these seven Years, I should be for making Song upon you for this Shivility.

Gul.

Your Father! What was he?

Irish.

A true Irish Poet, my dear; he could neither read nor write—By my set, Honey, he wrote many an excellent new Song—I have one of his uppn Moggy Maclachlan, a young Virgin in Sligo, who he fell in Love with, after she had two Love-Begots at one Time to Squire Concannen.

Gul.

I should be glad to see it, if you have it on you.

Irish.

O yes, my dear Creature! I always carry it upon me—It is in my Head, Honey: You shall see it in a Minute, if you will give me leave to sing it.

Gul.

With all my Heart, Cousin.

Irish.

The Devil burn me now, Honey, if I can think of the right Tune, becase it never had any Tune at all!—However it will go to Larry Grogan.

Gul.

By all Means let's have it.

Irishman Sings.
I.

My sweet pretty Mogg, you're as soft as a Bog,

And wild as a Kitten, and wild as a Kitten:

Those Eyes in your Face—(O pity my Case)

Poor Dermot hath smitten, poor Dermot hath smittem

Far softer than Silk, and as fair as New-Milk

Your Lily white Hand is, your Lily white Hand is:

Your Shape's like a Pail; from your Head to your Tail

You're strait as a Wand is, you're strait as a Wand is.

II.

Your Lips red as Cherries, and your curling Hair is

As black as the Devil, as black as the Devil:

Your Breath is as sweet too, as any Potatoe,

Or Orange from Seville, or Orange from Seville.

When dress'd in your Boddice, you trip like a Goddess,

So nimble so frisky; so nimble so frisky:

A Kiss on your Cheek (tis so soft and so sleek)

Would warm me like Whisky, would warm me like Whisky.

III.

I grunt, and I pine, and I sob like a Swine

Becase you're so cruel, becase you're so cruel.

No Rest I can take; and asleep or awake

I dream of my Jewel, I dream of my Jewel.

Your Hate then give over; nor Dermot your Lover

So cruelly handle, so cruelly handle;

Or Dermot must die, like a Pig in a Sty,

Or Snuff of a Candle, or Snuff of a Candle.

Gul.

I thank you very kindly; it is a most admirable Song—Well, you will be here at nine to-morrow?

Irish.

You may be certain of my coming, my dear Cousin.

Gul.

But hark you — Be sure not to mention a Word of this Affair to any Person whatever—I would not have it get Wind, lest any Body else should be applying to the Gentleman.

Irish.

Oh! let Paddy alone for that, my dear Creature! I am too cunning to mention it to nobody, but my nown Shelf—Well, your Servant, my dear Cousin. Exit.

Gul.

Your Servant, your Servant—We must have this Fellow indented as soon as possible—He will fetch a rare Price in the Plantations—Odso! here comes one of my best Customers.

Enter Lady WRINKLE.

Gul.

Your Ladyship's most obedient.

L. Wrin.

Mr. Gulwell, your Servant—I call'd to see if you have never a handsome well-bred young Fellow on your Books. Master Richard, whom you lately recommended to me, grew so intolerably vain, and so swelled with his own Importance, that I was last Night obliged to send him a packing—Would you think it, Mr. Gulwell— the Creature had even the Impudence to—

Gul.

Bless me, Madam! Not offer any Rudeness to Lady Wrinkle, I hope! A Lady of her Prudence! her Virtue! her Character!

L. Wrin

The most consummate Rudeness in the World!—As I hope to be sav'd, Mr. Gulwell, the Monster had the Audacity, the immoderate Audacity, to make Love to me—ay, and in an honourable Way, I assure you!

Gul.

Make Love to your Ladyship, I am astonished at the Rascal's Impudence?

L. Wrin.

I am so naturally good-natur'd, that I could almost have forgiven any other Rudeness; but this was so excessively impudent, so immensely provoking, that I could almonst run mad to think on't.

Gul.

And so could I too, I assure your Ladyship. Walks to and fro in a disorder'd Manner.

L. Wrin.

Because I shew'd him some slight Civilities— for, excusing this Fault, he was really a pretty agrecable Fellow—he had the Assurance to use me in this audacious Manner—Oh! Mr. Gulwell! there was no bearing such Insolence! I must have been as insensible as an Idiot to put up with such astonishing ill Usage — But I must be on the Wing—I have three and twenty Visits this Morning — Well, you will be upon the Lookout for me—I would have him well-built—Nothing, at least very little less than six Foot—None of your snipper-snapper, whey-fac'd Jacks, but as proper a Man, as one would wish to see at a Review of the Guards—Nothing adds more to the Dignity of an Equipage, than the Size and Stateliness of one's Domestics.

Gul.

What Countryman would your Ladyship have him?

L. Wrin.

Why, if he be but a proper, stately, active Person, it is no great Matter for his Country — Suppose he were a Swiss—they are a hale, robust Nation — but I should like him the better for being an Irishman — The Irish in general are a very obliging People.

Gul.

I have one in my Eye that answers your Ladyship's Description to a Hair: he was with me the other Day about purchasing a Place in the Guards—let me see—ay! here he is!—Arthur Mackilwayne—he's a Strapper i'saith, and a Man of very good, but decay'd Family!

L. Wrin.

Family, Mr. Gulwell! — Surely the Man's turn'd in his Head!—Don't you know, Sir, that we Quality always make it a Point never to admit into our Services any Creature that has the least Pretence to Birth?—With the Mushroom Part of Mankind we can do as we please; treat them with all the Contempt, State, Insolence, and Superiority, which characterize the Woman of Quality; but if we behave in a like Manner to the Gentleman, he gives himself a great many impertinent Airs on his Birth—Why it was but last Week that Lady Stilts reprimanded her Footman, when the Rascal had the Impudence to tell her, he was of a better Family than herself; For his Grandfather was an Attorney, and her Ladyship's but a Bum-Bailiff—No, no, Mr. Gulwell; there is no enduring the Insolence of a decay'd Gentleman!

Gul.

I ask your Ladyship's Pardon—I was not aware of this Objection.

L. Wrin.

Well, if any Thing happen in a Day or two, you will remember me—If you don't hear of one in that Time, I would have you advertise—Your last Advertisement if you have a Copy of it, with a little Alteration, will do again—It was an extreme good one, but border'd rather too much on the double Entendre—Lady Dy Spritely was very funny on reading it—I would not for the Universe she had known that it was written upon my Account—You wicked Creature! how could you use me in such a Manner?—I protest I was horridly angry at you for't—You know I abominate every Thing that has the least Appearance of Indelicacy— Well, you will take Care to advertise: for it will positively be of great Inconvenience to my Family Affairs, to have Richard's Place unsupplied—Mr. Gulwell, your Servant. Exit.

Gul.

Your Ladyship's most devoted—Of great Inconvenience to my Family Affairs to have Richard's Place unsupplied!—In Faith I believe her Ladyship!—So Dick is unshipp'd, and the Bond not worth a Farthing!—I have lost the five hundred Pounds, as clean as a Whistle!—He gave me such Assurances of her Ladyship's Regard, that I thought the Money as safe, as if I had it in my Pocket—Who's here?—one of my party-colour'd Customers! — Oh! 'tis Lady Vixen's Livery!

Enter a Footman.

Foot.

Sir, my Lady Vixen desires to speak with you, at Mr. Bombazine's, the Silk-Mercer's over the Way.

Gul.

Mr. Williams, give an Eye to the Office—I shall be back in a few Minutes. Exeunt.

The End of the first Act.

ACT II. Scene continues.

Enter HARWOOD and WILLIAMS.

Har.

'Tis lucky that your Master was sent for, or we should have been terribly puzzled in getting Frankly out of the House.

Wil.

'Twas fortunate indeed!

Har.

What an infamous Rascal he is! Such a Villain is enough to bring an Odium on the whole Fraternity of Office-Keepers—I hope they are not all like this Master of your's, Mr. Williams?

Wil.

No, they are not!—There are Persons, in this Way of Life, of as strict Honour and Integrity, as in any Profession whatever.

Har.

A Register-Office, under the Managment of an honest Man, must certainly be very serviceable to the Publick?

Wil.

Undoubtedly, Mr. Harwood—but the old Gentleman is crossing the Street—To your Post, Sir. Exit Harwood.

Enter GULWELL.

Gul.

Her Ladyship hath releas'd me sooner than I expected—go, get the Instrument finish'd, Mr. Williams.— Exit Williams. [writing] A Comb-brush for Lady Vixen!—this I believe will be the one and twentieth, she hath had from my Office within these two Years—a special Customer i'faith!—Heyday! who have we here? A spruce Coxcomb of the Military Cast!

Enter Captain Le BRUSH.

Capt.

Sir, your most obedient—Pray an't you Mr. Geofry Gullwell, Esquire?

Gul.

The same, Sir.

Capt.

Then I am come to have a little Talk with you.

Gul.

Your Business, good Sir?

Capt.

You must know, Sir, I am an Ensign, in a new-rais'd Ridgmen, to which Post I was advance through the Interest of my very Good Friend and Acquaintance, Lord Pliant, whom I had the Honour to serve many Years in the Capacity of a Valet de Chambre — But, Sir, tho' formerly a Servant, I am a Gentleman born, and have had the Honour of a University Iddication.

Gul.

Sir, I make no Dispute of it: you have the Appearance of a Man of Consequence—May I crave your Name and Family?

Capt.

My Name, Sir, is Le Brush—I am commonly called Brush; but le Brush is the Name my Family was ariginally, nay even so lately as Harry the Eight, known by: a Name, Sir, given by Way of Distinction to one of my Auntsisters, that was General under All-afraid the Great, for so victoriously sweeping away hole Armies of the Enemy—Our Family had all their Estate consisticated in the Broils between the Yorkshire and Lancashire Line, so that their Predecessors have been a little out of Repair to the present Time, and the Name regenerated into plain Brush.

Gul.

Sir, as your Family hath been so long reduced, how came you by the Education you talk of?

Capt.

Sir, I was taught to read and write free-gratis for nothing at a Charity School, and attended Lord Pliant to the University, where you know there is many Opportunities for a Man of Talons to improve himself.

Gul.

Right, Sir, such Opportunities, that I have frequently known a Valet return from thence full as wise as his Master.

Capt.

Egad, Sir, I see very plainly you're a Gentleman, that knows what's what.

Gul.

And pray, Captain, what were your favourite Studies at College?

Capt.

Logic and Poetry, the only two Studies sit for a Gentleman; as the first will teach you to cheat the Devil, and the last to charm the Ladies.

Gul.

I should be glad to have a little Conference with you on the latter, for I am a bit of a Dabler in it.

Capt.

Then serously as a Friend, I would dissuade you to look out damn'd sharp, or upon my Soul you'll catch a Tartar! For I have not met with any Body, that was fit to hold the Candle to me in Poetry, for a long Serus of Time—But, Sir, as I am in haste, we had better refer the Dispute at prosent—any other Time I am at your Service for a 〈…〉—I shall run thro' my Business with as brief Prolixity as possible—At a Country Town, where I was Recruiting, I had the good Fortune to pick up a maiden Lady, pretty well stricken in Years, with a Fortune of three thousand Pounds in the Stocks. Now, Sir, as the Interest of the Money, and my present Pay will scarce be sufficient to maintain me — for you know, Sir, a Soldier and a Gentleman is anonymous Characters, and a Man in my Office must live up to his Dignity—I say, Sir, as the Interest of Money is damn'd low, I have a Desire to purchase a Cornecy or a Company of Foot, that I may be better able to live like a Gentleman.

Gul.

Posts of this kind frequently fall under my Disposal. I think it a prudent and honourable Intention in you; as, in case of Mortality, the Provision for your Lady will be larger.

Capt.

Pho! Dam the old Hag! I don't care if the Devil had her: I have been married above two Months, and was as tired of her in the first Fortnight, as a modern Man of Quality after a Twelve-month's Cohabitation I have, for these five Weeks past, done every thing in my Power to break her Heart; but egad it is made of such tough Stuff, such penctrable Stuff, as my Friend Shakespear calls it, that I believe I shan't be able to defect the Business, damme!—In short, my Disappointment hath thrown me into such a hellish Deel ha me, that the Devil fetch me if I know, for the Blood and Soul of me, how to execrate myself out of it! For I want to be rid of her most cursedly that's certain.

Gul.

There are Ways—many Ways, Captain, by which such a Business may be brought about.

Capt.

True, Sir My Serjeant Tom Spaterdash, who is a damn'd cute Dog, as any in the Coppercan System — You don't know Tom? do you, Sir?

Gul.

I can't say I have the Honour of his Acquaintance.

Capt.

Oh! the most archest, comicalest Son of a Whore in the whole Universe egad! — As I was a saying, Tom offered me for ten Pieces to give her a Dose; but no, no; damme thinks I to myself, I'll not poison the old Beldam neither! It will be the more fashionable Way to break her Heart.

Gul.

Sir, as you are a Gentleman, I would beg leave to ask why you are so desirous of parting with a Woman, who hath been so great a Benefactress to you — I should be afraid your Patron and his Lady would resent such Behaviour—Will you be kind enough to answer my Question with Truth?

Capt.

Truth, Sir, is to be sure a most amable Thing, and what every Gentleman ought to make Use of. As Mr. — what's his Name? — One of the old Roman Philosophers there—Pythogorus, I believe — Ay Squire Pythogorus it was—used to say, Sockratas is my Friend, Pluto is my Friend, but Truth is more my Friend. So say I, Lord Pliant is my Friend, Lady Pliant is my Friend, but Truth is more my Friend — And tho' some Persons will affirm that Truth ought not to be spoken at all Times; yet no Philosopher, not no body else, would ever venture to affirm, but that Truth ought to be spoken at sometimes—which being granted—I say, Sir, which being granted, it must follow—necessarily follow. Sir, — that tho' Truth ought not to be spoken at all Times, Occasions, and Seasons; yet seasonable Truths may be occasionally spoken at all Times—But this, Sir, is the very Profundity of Logic, and consequently out of the Reach of every Capacity, wherefore I shall descend into the Spear of common Sense to be the better understood.

Gul.

Sir, I must acknowledge that your Arguments are very Sublime and Logical; but yet they are no Answer to my Question—Perhaps I have been too rude to press you on the Occasion — there may be some Lady in the Case, who—

Capt.

Egad! Sir, you're in the Right! I had not been Married above ten Days; till I fell most consumedly in Love with a Niece of my Wise's, a Girl of Fifteen with a damn'd large Fortune—a most exquisite Creature upon my Soul!—In short, She is all the hole Tote of my Desires—As that there black Fellar in the Play—Othello Moor I think they call him — says, Perdition catch my Soul but I do Love her: and when I Love her not Chaos is come again!"

Gul.

Pray, Captain, who is that Chaos?

Capt.

Chaos! Lard bless you!—You pertend you don't know! A Man of your Years and Understanding too! Fie! Fie! Mr. Gulwell! None of your Tricks upon Travellers!

Gul.

Sir, I seldom ask the Meaning of a Word I understand.

Capt.

Then you must know Chaos is a—my dear, it is a—a—a— zounds I What shall I say?—The Devil Chaos him—It is a—I can't find Words to express myself properly—It is a—as it were a—as one may say a—Chaos. I can't divine it otherwise for the Blood and Soul of me!

Gul.

You have not divin'd it at all; at least not to my Satisfaction—I suppose by the Connexion it signifies Dislike?

Cap.

Right Sir, it is a—a—kind of Dislike, but not, as one may say, a—a—an absolute Dislike—But, Sir, to proceed in my Story—If I could but break my Wife's Heart, I should assuredly marry my Niece in less than a Month after her Decease — A seprate Maintainance won't do, or Mrs Le Brush should have it with all my Soul but if we part, you know all Hopes of breaking her Heart are over—She hath offered to seprate, if I would give her two hundred Pounds in ready Rhino, and allow her for Life an annual Provision of fifty Pounds per Annum every Year —.

Gul.

Which you have refused, I suppose?

Capt.

Refused! Most certainly, Sir: I was almost putrified with Astonishment at the agregious Impudence of her Demand—I shall not consent to allow here a Shilling more as Fifteen a Year—She may live very comfortably; very comfortably on it in the North.

Gul.

Truly, Sir, I think fifteen Pounds a Year a very genteel Allowance; especially as she brought you so small a Trifle as Three Thousand.

Capt.

I think so too egad! But these old Devils have no Conscience at all damme! — Well, Sir, you'll give me an Answer as soon as possible—You may hear of me at Mrs. Dresden's, a Milliner under the Peeaches, in Common-Garden.

Gul.

(writing) Very well, Sir—I'll talk with a Principal about your Affair this Evening.

Capt.

There Sir—[gives him Money] You'll take Care to beat him down as low as possible?

Gul.

You may depend on my best Endeavours, most noble Captain. Exit Captain Le Brush. Scoundrel I should have said — Why this Fellow's a greater Rascal than myself—But what can be expected from a Coxcomb of his Stamp?—More Company!— In a Chair too! — I fancy this must be my dear Sister in Wickedness.

Enter Mrs. SNAREWELL in a Chair.

Dear Mrs. Snarewell, your most obedient—Let me hand you to a Seat, Madam.

Snare.

Oh! Oh! Oh! Touch me gently, Mr. Gulwell.

Gul.

I am glad to see you Abroad again. (kisses her) I hear you have had a very bad Night.

Snare.

Oh! The most shocking one, that can be ima¦gined! The Chelic, and my old cursed Distemper the Rheumatise, have plagued me to so violent a Degree, that I could not possibly attend your Office in Time—Such Twitchings! Such Tortures!—I never expected to live 'till Morning, I assure you — Poor Mr Watchlight, the Tallow Chandler, was called twice out of Bed to comfort me—The dear Man was so servent in his Prayers, and so earnest in his Ejaculations, that I received great Comfort and Consolation—I was so Easy, so Composed, so Resigned after I had made my Peace, that I could have parted with Life with as little Uneasiness, as a young Wife of Quality with her Deary of Threescore—Oh! he's a most Heavenly Creature!—He said such comfortable moving Things!—But what Success had the Advertisement?

Gul.

Beyond Expectation! I had above fifty Damsels with me—You might have cull'd half a Dozen at least, that would have answer'd to a T: such fresh blooming Creatures!

Snare.

The Devil's in my Luck to be sure!—Ay! Ay! he owes me a Grudge for turning Methodist — I have been cursing my Fortune in Bed these three Hours—so violently pain'd, so tortur'd, that I could not rise tho' my Life had depended on it — I am certainly the most unfortunate Woman alive! The Reputation of my House will be utterly blasted for want of fresh Faces!— O this cursed Rheumatise! that it should seize me at such a Juncture!—I could cry my Eyes out to think on't! weeps.

Gul.

Dear Madam, be comforted, I shall have many of them applying To-morrow to know their Success.

Snare.

To-morrow! But that won't answer my Purpose: I have promised a Virgin to Mr. Zorobabel Habakkuk to Night.

Gul.

You must palm some of your freshest Commodities on him for one.

Snare.

Palm some of your freshest Commodities, quotha! Mr. Gulwell you are vastly mistaken in your Man!— He is too knowing in these Matters to be imposed on in any such Manner — It would be as difficult to deceive my little Israelite in that Point, as a Jury of Matrons — Besides, he pays the Price of Virginity; and I assure you I am a Person of more Honour and Conscience, than even to endeavour to fob him off with a Counterfeit — Conscience should be used in all our Dealings — I have too strong a Sense of Religion to be guilty of such a heinous Imposture—No, no, Mr. Gulwell! if we expect to be Happy hereafter, we must endeavour to do as we would be done by—Is there never a likely Girl you expect at the Office to Day?

Gul.

None that I know of — But pray how stands the Account for the Irish Lady, you had the last Week?

Snare.

Why, Sir, I could not squeeze a Penny more than ten Guineas from the old close listed Scrivener, so that I owe you Five — Upon my Soul, Mr. Gulwell, you must abate of your Demands for the future! The Expences of a Bagnio run so high, that I cannot afford you an equal Moiety of my Procuration — There's Rent, Taxes, Sesses, Repairs, Fire, Candle, Linen, Washing, Cloaths, Connivance-Money, and a thousand other expensive Articles — I can give you no more than a fourth Part: I can afford you no more, as I hope to be sav'd!

Gul.

Madam, I can do Business, on my present Terms, with any of the Procuresses in Town.

Snare.

Ah! you're a covetous Curmudgeon! but there is no quarrelling with you Well, I must be going! I have promised Mr. Watchlight to be at the Tabernacle, to return Thanks for my Recovery—He will preach a Thanksgiving Sermon, and Sing an occasional Hymn of his own composing after the Discourse — Here it is! I have been humming it over in the Chair—O they are sweet Words! divine Words! comfortable Words, Mr. Gulwell! — You shall hear two or three Lines.

Gul.

With all my Heart, Madam.

Snare.

Let me see where shall I begin!—Oh here! read!

When as a Sinner groaning sore

In Cholic Pain most sad;

And eke in Rheumatise did roar

Like one quite raving mad:

Then did their come Relief—

But you shall have it some other Time: I will get Mr. Watchlight to write you out a Copy—Oh! he's a good Creature, Mr. Gulwell—I must have been in a State of utter Darkness but for him—I can never be out of his Debt for the great Work of my Reformation—It is true I have left him, in token of my Gratitude, all my worldly Substance, except Rings and Mourning to you and a few Friends — Dear Man! He hath promised to lay it out, even to the uttermost Farthing, in building a new Tabernacle.

Gul.

I hope, Madam, you have not disinherited your two Daughters?

Snare.

Why I had some Scruples on that Head, but Mr. Watchlight remov'd them — He told me, as they were Illegitimate, it would be a great Slur and Reproach to my Reputation, if I named them in my Will: and you know one would wish to die with a good Name—Besides, he convinced me of the exceeding great Sinfulness of leaving any Thing to Bastards, as it was a direct Countenance and Encouragement to the Cause of Lewdness and Debauchery — He assured me that many good Men, in all Ages, had disinherited even their lawful Children, for the charitable Work of building Hospitals and Alms Houses—and if there be such Merit in building an Hospital, what must there be in erecting a Tabernacle?

Gul.

Here's Religion with a Vengeance! aside.

Snare.

Besides, my Daughters are both very happily provided for. Sukey is in keeping with a rich Jew, and Lucy with a grave Merchant in the City—Poor Girls! They have no Occasion for any Assistance from me— No, no; Mr. Watchlight hath perfectly satisfied me of the Lawfulness of Disinheriting them—Oh! he's a good Creature, Mr. Gulwell!—I should have been Lost! utterly Lost! irrecoverably Lost! if he had not been luckily made the Means and Instrument of my happy Change — Well, I shall be with you in the Morning to take a Survey; in the mean Time if you meet with any delicate young Thing, be sure to give me Notice — Oh! Oh! Oh!

Gul.

Pray what's the Matter, Madam?

Snare.

A Return of my late Disorder — Have you no Holland's Gin in your Scrutore?

Gul.

Yes, I have always a Bottle for the Service of the Ladies. Takes out a Bottle and Glass.

Snare.

Hold! hold! hold! I would not have above a Thimbleful — Mercy on me! You surely think I have the Brain of a Country Justice, to bear such a Glass in a Morning!

Gul.

I design this Glass for myself—To your better Health, Mrs. Snarewell. Drinks.

Snare.

Thank you, dear Sir—But I am persuaded I cannot live long—You had better give me the Bottle: my Hand shakes so violently, that I am afraid of spilling, if I drink out of the Glass—It would be a Pity to waste the good Creature. — Come, Sir, Success to all our Undertakings. Drinks out of the Bottle.

Gul.

I thank you, Madam—So! the Thimbleful will be half a Pint at least!

Snare.

Yes, Mr. Gulwell, as I was saying I am persuaded I cannot live long—I feel the Decays of Nature in me very sensibly! I am wasting and wasting every Day—I must entirely give over my wicked Life, and wholly apply myself to the Care of my precious and immortal Soul—I am grown so Feeble and Infirm, that I am almost unfit for this World—Oh! Oh! Oh! — there's another envious Twitch—Pray hand me the Bottle —I must have t'other Thimbleful—Thank you, Mr. Gulwell—Chairman! (Enter Chairmen who help her into the Chair.) Carry me to the Tabernacle—Dear Sir, your Servant.

Gul.

Madam, I wish you a good Day.

Snare.

O Lard! I have forgot my Hymn—There it is upon the Table — Hand it me, dear Sir—(looks on the Paper) Ay! 'tis right enough—Go on, Chairmen—Mr. Gulwell—Mr. Gulwell!—Have you no Ears, you damn'd Rascals?—Hark you, Sir — If any Thing offer in half an Hour or so, send me Word to the Tabernacle.

Gul.

I shall, Madam. (Mrs Snarewell is carried off singing ‘When as a Sinner groaning sore.’ Let me see—Mrs. Martin's fair Lodger was to call to Day—I must not let Mother Snarewell see her—I'll market for her on my own Bottom—If the don't turn Restive on my Hands, I shall make a pretty Penny of her—More Customers!

Enter Scotchman.

Well, Sir, your Business with me?

Scotch.

Gin ye be the Maister o' this Office, my Buzziness wi' ye is to spear at ye, gif ye can be o' ony Service till a peur distressit Gentleman?

Gul.

Sir, I should be glad to do a Gentleman in Distress any Service in my Power; especially one of your Country. I have a Veneration for the very Name of a Scotchman—My Father was one.

Scotch.

Troth, ye speak verra meikle like a Gentleman, and seem to hae a proper Sense o' National Honour A'm glad that A've been sae •on•y, as to fa' into sic Hands— Ye maun ken that my Family is as auncient as ony i' a' Scotland; and that by diract lineal Deshent, I sprang frae the great Jamy Macintosh, who was a Preevy-Counsellor to King Sandy the Second.

Gul.

A very considerable Origin indeed! — But pray, Sir, what may have been the Cause of your present Distress?

Scotch.

I'se tell ye the hale Mater — When I was a Callant, I was sae dyl'd as to get the ill Wull o' a' my Kin, by the Disgrace I had brought upo' the Macintoshes, by pitting mysel Prentice till a cankert auld Carle o' a Sword-Slipper in Aberdeen, whase bonny Daughter I was sae unsonsy as to click a Fancy to.

Gul

Well, Sir—

Scotch.

When I was out o' my Prenticeship, I wanted Gear to begin the World wi': I ax'd a' my Friends, but they girnit at me like the Vengeance — ‘Hald ye there, Lad,’ quo they: ‘Ye maun e'en pickle i' your ain poke-nuke!—As ye bak'd, ye may brew’ — And the Deel o' owther Gowd or Siller; nae no sae meikle as a Plack, or a Bawbie wald they gie me, unless I wald betak mysel to some mare Gentleman-like Occupation—Weel, Sir, I was forcit to wale a new Buzziness—They game Graith enough to buy a Pack, an I turn'd travelling Merchant, whilk the English, by way o' Derision, ca' a Pether, that I might nae langer be a Disgrace to my Kin.

Gul.

Why this was a Way to retrieve the Disgrace of the Macintoshes indeed!

Scotch.

Right, Sir, verra Right a-truly!—But wi' your Permission, I'se speed me to the tragical Part o' my Story—As I was ganging my gate towards Portsmouth, I was attackit by twa Rubbers, wha gar'd me strip frae the muckle Coat o' my Back to my verra Sark; an rubbit me o' a', ay an mare nor a' I could ca' my ain — An no content wi' taking my Gudes, they ruggit my Hair, they pou'd me by the Lugs; they brissit and skelpit me to sic a Gree, that the gore Blude rin into my Breeks, an my Skin was amaist as black as Pik — Nay when I greand i' meikle Dool an Agonie, the Fallows leugh at my pitifu Mains, caw'd me an illfar'd scabbit Tyke, and bad me be gane into my ain croudy Country to sell Butter an Bruntstane.

Gul.

The barbarous Villains! Not only to rob and abuse you, but to insult your Country!

Scotch

I wat, it was a downright National Reflection! An A'm sic a Loo'er o' my Country, that it hurt me mare, nor a' the Whacks they ga' me, an the Tyne o' my Pack into the Bargain—Weel, Sir, A'm now brought to the maist ruefu' Plight, that ever peur Fallow was in; for I canna get Claiths to my Back, or Veetles to my Wame — A'm sae blate that I maun starve to Deid, or I can ax Chary; abeit A'm sae hungery, that I could make a braw Meal upo' a whin sour Kail, an a Haggise, tane aff a Midding; gif it e'en stank like a Brock.

Gul.

Poor Gentleman! I pity your Condition with all my Heart.

Scotch.

As I trudge alang the Wynds, I can hear the cawler Waiter, I drink at the Pant gang jaup, jaup, jaup, i' my empty Kyte—Excep a Bicker o' gud fat Brose, an a Lunch o' salt Beef, whilk I gat last Sabbath-Day aboard o' a wi• Scotch Barkie, I ha no had my peur Wame weel-sleght this twa Owks an aboon: an Hunger ye ken is unco sair to bide.

Gul.

It is so indeed.

Scotch.

Now gin ye can pit me intil any tolerable Way o' gitting my Bread, I sal rackon it a verra great Kyndness.

Gul.

For what Station in Life do you think yourself fittest?

Scotch.

For ony Station, where Learning is necessary—I care na a pickle o' Sneeshing what it be—Ye may ken by my Elocution, A'm a Man o' nae sma' Lair—I was sae weel-leer'd that ilka auld Wife in Aberdeen wald turn up the Whites o' her Een, like a Mass John at Kirk, an cry, ‘God guide us! what a pawky Chiel is Donald! He's sae ald-gabbit that A speaks like a Print Buke! ’ — I could like verra weel to be Latin Secretary till a Minister o'State, and can say without Vanity, A'm as sit for sic an Office, as ony Man i' the British Dominions.

Gul.

Then you understand Latin?

Scotch.

Latin! Hout awa, Man! hout awa, ye daft Gowk! Do ye jeer abody'—a Scotchman, an no unnerstan Latin? ha! ha! ha! A verra gud Joke a-truly! — Unnerstan Latin, quo' he!—Why we speak it better, nor ony o' his Majesty's Subjects, an wi the genuine original Pronunciation too—I'se gie ye a Specimen frae that wutty Chiel Maister Ovid.

Parve, nec inviden, sine me, Liber, ibis in urbem,

Hei mihi, quod Domino non licet ire tuo!

Now ken ye, Man, whether I unnerstan Latin, or no?

Gul.

Oh! Sir, I see you are a complete Latinist — Well, if we can't fall in for the Secretary, suppose you should take up with translating a while 'till something better offer?—there are pretty Pickings, very comfortable Pickings now and then to be had in that Way.

Scotch.

Ony Thing at present to satisfy the Cravings o' my Wame, that is no an-under the Dignity o' my Family —Ye ken the auld Saw, Beggars munna be Chusers— for that Mater I'se no repine, gif I can but e'en git Bannocks, an Sneeshing till something better fa' out.

Gul.

Give me your Name, and Place of Abode, and you may expect to hear from me very shortly.

Scotch.

Donald Macintosh, Gentleman; at Maister Archibald Buchanan's, a Tobacco-Merchant, at the Sign of the Highlander an Snuff-Bledder, ower anenst King James's Stairs, Shadwell. [Gulwell writes] What's your Charge, Sir?

Gul.

Only a Shilling, Sir—'tis a Perquisite to my Clerk.

Scotch.

There it's for ye, Sir—[gives him Money.] I was sain to borrow'to' Sandy Ferguson, the Coal-Heaver, for the Deel a Bodle had I o' my ain.

Gul.

Have you got any Body to give you a Character?

Scotch.

In troth, I canna say I ha' e'en now!—I ken nae living Sawl in London, but Sandy an my Landlord, that I could ax sic a Favour o'; an ablins their Karecter o' me would no be thought sufficient.

Gul.

Nay, Sir, it is no very great Matter—it would have sav'd you a Trifle; for when we make Characters we must be paid for them — We have Characters, as Jockies have Pedigrees, from five Shillings to five Guineas.

Scotch.

Weel, Sir, we may tauk o' that anither Time — gin ye succeed, ye'se find me no ungratesu'—Ye sal see I hae no sae meikle o' the fause Englishman, i' me, as to be forgetfu' o' my Benefactors—A'm afeard A've been verra fasheous; howe'er I'se fash ye nae langer, but gaung my Waus Hame—Sir, your verra abliged Servant—In gud troth, this is a Rara avis in terris, nigroque simillima cygno. Exit.

Gul.

Your most obedient, good Mr. Latin. Secretary—There goes one of the many Fools, that owe their Ruin to Family Pride—Oh! here comes one of my Right Honourable Customers!

Enter Lord BRILLIANT.

My Lord, your Lordship's most devoted.

L. Bril.

Mr. Gulwell, I am most immensely glad to see you! I am come to know if you can recommend to me a Housekeeper—Lady Brilliant, who by the by is the most whimsical Person alive, hath insisted on the Discharge of Mrs. Candy; and unless I consent, we shall have nothing but Hell and the Devil to do about the Affair. This is the Curse of marrying a Tradesman's Daughter for the Sake of her Fortune! My Lady is ten Times more haughty and impertinent, than if she had been really born a Woman of Quality — As I hope to be sav'd, Mr. Gulwell, her Temper is past enduring!

Gul.

And how does your Lordship intend to dispose of Mrs Candy? — She's a very good Sort of Woman.

L. Bril.

Upon my Honour, the most virtuous, inoffensive, deserving Creature on the Globe!—I want to consult you on this very Affair—You have often the Advowsons of Livings to dispose of, and if I could make a reasonable Purchase of one, of about a cool hundred a Year, I would marry her to Mr. Secondly my Chaplain, and take his Bond for the Purchase-Money.

Gul.

My Lord, I have frequently Bargains of this Kind under my Negotiation: I could help you to one about the Mark, but would not advise you to it, on account of it's extravagant Price. The Impropriator, who by the by is one of the Cloth, hath the Conscience to set it at ten Year's Purchase.

L. Bril.

An unconscionable Muckworm!—If any Thing happen in a few Days, you will be kind enough to let me know—I would not have it lie at too great a Distance; for Mr. Secondly is a Man, for whom I have so particular an Esteem, that I should like now and then to give him a friendly Call—But we want a Housekeeper to supply Mrs. Candy's Place—Have you never a one to recommend? You know what will please.

Gul.

I wish your Lordship had been so fortunate, as to have applied a Day or two sooner. I have one of the finest Women in the World to provide for, but have unluckily promis'd her to an elderly Barrister of my Acquaintance.

L. Bril.

A Barrister! Why did not you give me Notice of it sooner? Upon my Honour I did not think you would have us'd me with so little Respect!

Gul.

I should have inform'd your Lordship of it sooner, but the Templar was so very genteel on the Occasion, as to promise me an hundred Guineas for my Commission.

L. Bril.

You had no Reason to dispute my Generosity: if I had thoroughly lik'd her, I should not have minded twice the Sum.

Gul.

Why, my Lord, the Affair may be yet brought about—I expect her here every Minute—Will your Lordship be pleased to step into that Room—You may see her thro' the Lattice. — You will find Rochester's Poems, and the Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure to entertain you—please to retire, my Lord: here's Company a coming— Exit Lord Brilliant. Lucky enough! 'tis the very Woman!—If she be but of the right Sort, I shall make a tolerable Penny of her.

Enter MARIA.

Ma.

Sir, I am come agreeable to Appointment—Have you yet heard of any Thing that will suit me?

Gul.

Madam, I believe I have done your Business: there is a Peer in the next Room perusing a Mortgage Deed, who is in immediate Want of a Housekeeper.

Ma.

Is the Nobleman married, or single?

Gul.

Married, Madam; to one of the best Women in the World: you will be extremely happy in the Place. Her Ladyship is the most generous Woman of the Age. Mrs. Candy, the present Housekeeper, hath sav'd a Fortune in the Family, and is going to be married to a Clergyman of great Character—Shall I call his Lordship?

Ma.

I had rather first see his Lady?—but do as you please?

Gul.

My Lord! My Lord!— [Enter Lord Brilliant.] This is the Gentlewoman I told your Lordship of.

L. Bril.

Madam, your most obedient—egad a most angelic Creature!—Madam, I was telling Mr. Gulwell—s' Death! what a Face is there!—I say, Madam, I was telling Mr. Gulwell that my Housekeeper is going to be married—Heavens! what a Shape and Mien!—and that we shall want one to supply her Place—wherefore if you are inclinable—that is, if the Place would suit, and you can be well recommended—I say, Madam, well recommended—for my Lady will take nobody without a sufficient Character—therefore, Madam, if—I say, Madam, if the Place would suit, and you can have a fatisfactory Recommendation, I should be glad to know your Terms—I was never in such Confusion in my Life, curse me!

Gul.

Here's Company a coming!— Please to step into the next Room, and you may talk of the Affair with less Interruption. Exeunt Lord Bril. and Ma. So! so! Matters seem to go on very promi•ingly—My Friend Harry Trickit! what can be his Business?

Enter TRICKIT.

Trick

Well, Sir, you receiv'd my Letter?

Gul.

Letter! what Letter?

Trick.

The Letter I sent you this Morning.

Gul.

Not I indeed—pray how did you send it?

Trick.

By a Ticket-Porter, whom I order'd to call in his Way to the Banker's.

Gul.

The Fellow must have forgot it—What are the Contents?—Speak low: there's Company in that Room.

Trick.

My Niece is going to file a Bill in Chancery against me, to set aside her Father's Will. She will be supported by a Person of Fortune, with whom she now lives—I was told it this Morning by a Friend, who din'd with the Gentleman a few days ago in Somersetshire— Now as Mr. Williams is going to leave you, I am afraid he will begin to squeak; and then I shall not only lose the Money, but my Life into the Bargain.

Gul.

Sir, it is not in Williams's Power to do you any Injury in the Affair: he was not privy to the Fraud of your Brother-in-law's signing a counterfeit Will, but only called hastily in to witness the Signature. The other Evidence is dead, therefore there is no Danger from that Quarter—Don't be afraid, Mr. Tricket; I'll answer for the Validity of the Will—I thought you had known the Law better in these Cases, than to be afraid of such a Bug-bear as a Chancery Suit!

Trick.

You have given me some Comfort: I have been very uneasy about the Affair these three Hours.

Ma.

[within] Help! help! Murder! help!

Enter HARWOOD and WILLIAMS.

Har.

Ha! my Maria in Danger! Enter Maria. What's the Matter, my Dear?

Ma.

Good Heaven! Is it you, Mr. Harwood?—I am so frighted and out of Breath, that I can scarce speak—A noble Villain in the other Room hath attempted my Ruin.

Har.

Let me but secure the Door, that none of this Nest of Villains escape, and I shall punish the Right Honourable Scoundrel—[locks the Door] there's the Key, Mr. Williams — Frankly and the Officers must soon be here—Now for his Lordship. Exit Harwood.

Trick.

My Niece and her Master!

Gul.

The Devil they are!—I don't like the Business! I wish it were well over!

Enter HARWOOD dragging in Lord BRILLIANT.

Har.

No, I won't kill you cowardly—Now, my Lord, if your Life be worth preserving a few Minutes, draw.

L. Bril.

Sir, This is no proper Place for a Duel.

Har.

Not quite so proper, as the other Room for your Lordship's intended Purpose, I must own: however it will do—come, my Lord, you must fight me, or ask your Life—You can fight, I am sure, for I have been a Witness of your Lordship's Courage in Flanders—Why don't you draw?—Do the one or the other, or I shall dishonour the Peerage of my Country, by kicking your Lordship out of the Room.

L. Bril.

Sir, in a bad Cause I think it no Diminution of my Honour to own myself to blame; in Consequence of which, I ask the Lady's Pardon, and wish it were in my Power to make her any further Satisfaction for the intended Injury.

Har.

This is talking like the Peer and the Gentleman— I'll take you at your Word — I beg your Lordship to inform me whether or no you did not lately borrow five thousand Pounds of Mr. Tricket, who, if I mistake not, hath the Honour to be your Lordship's Steward?

L. Birl

I did, Sir: pray what of that?

Har.

My Lord, you will pardon me for with-holding the Reason of such Enquiry: at a proper Time I may perhaps inform you—I have a few Questions to ask Mr. Tricket, which are improper for your Lordship to hear at present, and shall take it as a particular Favour, if you will be kind enough to leave us for a few Minutes.

L. Bril.

Sir, I shall immediately withdraw; and if I can be of any Service to you or the Lady, you may freely command the Execution of it.

Har.

I humbly thank your Lordship — Mr. Williams, please to unlock the Door. Exit Lord Brilliant. I am sorry, Mr. Trickit, there should be such a Brace of Rascals in the World, as you and your Friend there. Mr. Williams hath given me a Letter, directed to his Master, which he open'd on a Supposition of it's being relative to the Business of the Register-Office — I need not tell you that it contains a Proof of a Piece of Villainy, sufficient to hang you both: however, Sir, in Consideration of your Family, I shall let your Crime slip unpunished, on Condition of your restoring the Money, of which you have robb'd your Niece by a villainous Will.

Trick

Sir, I acknowledge my Offence, and will make whatever Restitution you require.

Har.

Enough, Sir—Mr. Williams, I see Frankly and the Officers at the Door—pray step out, and tell him we have made up the Affair.

Wil.

I shall, Sir. Exit Williams.

Trick.

I must beg leave to inform you, by way of lessening my Offence, that this Villain put me upon the Fraud, which was no sooner executed, than he insisted on a thousand Pounds for his Advice and Secrecy.

Har.

I am sorry it is not in my Power to make an Example of him, without exposing or punishing you: However, if he will not agree to restore the Money, he shall be given up to Justice.

Gul.

Sir, I shall restore it whenever the Lady pleases.

Har.

But this is not all your Punishment—I must insist on the immediate Resignation of your present Employment—You are too dangerous a Man to be continued in a Register Office any longer. And surther you must pay into the Hands of the Treasurer of the Magdalen-House, five hundred Pounds for the Use of that Charity. I am convinc'd, from your Connexions with Mother Snarewell, that you have been the Cause of bringing many a young Creature to Shame. It is but therefore Poetical Justice that you should be obliged to contribute to the Support of ruin'd Innocence.

Gul.

Sir, I am too much in your Power to dispute your Will: but the Devil take the Porter for his Blunder in delivering the Letter!

Enter FRANKLY and WILLIAMS.

Fran.

Well, you have brought them to Terms I suppose?

Har.

Ay; Thanks to my Friend Williams, We have!

Enter Irishman.

Irish.

My dear Cushin, after I went away before, I forgot to remember to pay you for your Shivility; therefore I am going to come back again to be out of your Debt.

Gul.

Never mind it, Cousin — any other Time.

Irish.

Arra! Joy, I am a Person of more Honour, than to continue in no body's Debt, when I owe him nothing at all—Besides, my dear Creature, if I should be taken sick, and die of a Consumption to night, you might tell me to my Face the next Time I seed you, that I stole out of the World on purpose to cheat you—There, my dear Cushin. (Beats Gulwell.)

Enter Scotchman and a Highland Piper.

Gul.

Oh! Oh! Oh! Murder! Murder!

Irish.

Upon my Shoul, you lie now, Honey, for it is only a Shivil Beating!

Gul.

A Plague on such Civility, say I!

Enter Frenchman.

Scotch.

Lay on, Lad, an welcome; for the Deel brust me an I bid ye hald your Hand, gin ye skelp him this sax Hours—Here's Wully, the Piper, tells me he's as great a Faw, as e'er swang in a Helter.

French.

Begar! So say my Countryman, Monsieur la Fricasie.

Har.

Gentlemen, what is the Matter between you and this Office-keeper?

Irish.

Matter, my dear Joy! Nothing at all — I am only paying him for getting me a Plaish in the West—Ah! the Devil West you, my Dear! Your West is some of the Plantations in the East-Indies, where Pickpockets are transported to — This kidnapping Rascal was going to send me into the other World to be turn'd into a black Negro—I had gone shure enough, if it had not been for Macarrell O Neill, whom I overtook, as we run against one another in your English St. Patrick's Church Yard—St. Paul's I believe they call it—He told me this Scoundrel Cushin had transported three of my Countrymen, overland in a Ship to the Plantations, on Pretence of getting them Plaishes in the West—I'll Plantation you, you Tie• of the World!

Scotch.

Gud troth, Wully tells me he play'd e'en sic a Trick to twa o'my Countrymen.

French.

Begar! me vill ave von kick at the Fanfaron for my von Chelin and tree alspence.

Irish.

Hold, my dear Creature!—Don't lift a Hand at him I beseech you! For no Foreigners, but the Irish, must pretend to kick an Endlishman.

French.

Den pray give him von Kick for me.

Irish.

Upon my Conscience, but I would sooner give him half a score for myself.

Scotch.

What think ye, had, an we tak him to the neist Horse-Pool, an wash the Fleas aff him?

Irish.

The Devil burn me but that is the very Thing, I was just going to think of! There's some of my Countrymen at the Door that will assist—My dear Cushin, you must go along with us.

Gul.

I beseech you, Gentlemen, don't disgrace me so publickly!

Scotch.

Gud troth, we'se no care a bawbie for your Disgrace—Come, Wully, gie's a Lilt; and we'se carry him aff i' musical Triumph — Do you guard him behind, Man.

Irish.

Let me alone for that, Honey—If he offer to run away, I'll knock him down as dead as ever he was born. They hurry him off.

Har

Ha! ha! ha! There is so much Justice in the Rascal's Punishment, that I was resolved not to oppose the Execution of it—Now, My dear Maria, I have two Favours to ask of you, both of which I hope you will grant me.

Ma.

Sir, you have been my Deliverer, and cannot ask any Thing, Consistent with Honour, that I shall refuse.

Har.

First then I must desire you to forgive the Cause of your quitting my House: in the next Place, that you will return with me to Somersetshire; not in the Capacity of a Housekeeper, but a Wife—Don't imagine the Recovery of your Fortune hath induced me to this Proposal— Mr. Frankly can convince you the sole lntent of my Journey to Town was to marry you.

Ma.

Sir, I don't dispute your Veracity; and must belie my own Heart, if I make any Objection to your honourable Proposal.

Har.

An honest Girl ifaith! — Come, my dear Maria, let us step to Frankly's, and I'll order my Post Chariot to drive us to Doctors Commons — My Friend Charles and Mr. Williams, will be kind enought to attend us.

Fran.

With all my Heart.—So the Adventure of the Register-Office hath turn'd out a lucky Affair?

Har.

Fortunate for me indeed! And were I not fully convinced of the great Service, arising to the Community, from the Institution and proper Management of a Register-Office, I should be apt to conclude, from the Trick, Villainy, and Chicanery I have seen practised within this Hour, that none but a Fool or a Knave would ever set foot within it's Walls. Exeunt.

ADVERTISEMENT.

As there is a palpable Similarity between the Characters of Mrs. COLE in the Minor, and Mrs. SNAREWELL in the foregoing Performance; it may not be unnecessary to declare, that the Register-Office was put into Mr. Foote's Hands in August 1758, on his Promise of playing it at one of the Patent-Theatres in the ensuing Season.

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Title statement

The register-office: a farce of two acts. Acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. By J. Reed.

Reed, Joseph, 1723-1787.

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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3424

ID [isbn10]

110600423X

ID [isbn13]

9781106004239

ID [TCP]

K008041.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3316872878

ID [ECLL]

1234602500

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Source

— The register-office: a farce of two acts. Acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. By J. Reed., Reed, Joseph, 1723-1787.. 42,[2]p. ; 12⁰. Dublin :: printed for H. Saunders, R. Watts, and W. Whitestone,. 1761.. [With a final leaf of advertisement to the reader.] [Reproduction of original from the Harvard University Houghton Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCN13021.] [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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