My grandmother: a musical farce, in two acts, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Hay Market. The music composed by Mr. Storace.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

- ACT—I.

- ACT.—II

- LIST OF PLAYS.

MY GRANDMOTHER.

FINIS.

MY GRANDMOTHER; A MUSICAL FARCE, IN TWO ACTS, AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, HAY MARKET.

THE MUSIC COMPOSED BY Mr. STORACE.

Printed for the CURIOUS, and sold by the Booksellers in general.

1794.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

MEN,

- Sir Matthew Medley,Mr. Waldron,

- Vapour,Mr. Bannister, Jun.

- Woodly,Mr. Sedgwick.

- Gossip,Mr. Suett.

- Soussrance,Mr. Wewitzer.

- Tom,Mr. Bland.

- Servant,Mr. Lyons.

WOMEN

- FlorellaSignora Storace.

- Charlotte,Mrs. Bland.

SCENE—The Country.

ACT—I.

SCENE—A Chamber of an Inn, Bells ringing, a violent noise

ENTER TOM.

COMING—coming, what the Devil is the matter, Souffrance-Souffrance—!

(Rings again,)

Enter SOUFFRANCE (Napkin and fork)

Hello, vat is de matter, I can no eat my little bit of chicken i• quiet.

Tom.

Don't you hear?

Souf.

Oh! da• is my master.

Tom.

I wish the Devil had your master then▪

Souf.

Vy, don't you know vat is d• matt•r vid my master—my master is vimsical—he fancy himself all manager of tings i• de whole world, de sexton, de grave-dig, de ploughman.

Tom.

A ploughman.

Souf.

Nui—My master vas go to de masquerade, and 〈◊〉 de picture of a young lady, vich he fall so much in love vid, dat h• is go to kill himself—my master is vat you call de hypo—chondria•

Tom.

Hypo—who.

(Ringing again)

VAPOUR. (without)

Waiter—Souffrance—Am I to wait here all day?

Souf.

Here, take a de forcet—give me my little bit of chicke• though—

Exit To•

Enter VAPOUR.

Ah, Suffrance, I am going to drown myself.

Souf.

Ah, No sair.

Vap.

Yes—I will—I will drown myself—there is the finest pond in the garden.

Souf.

Ah! sair, for vy you drown yourself?

Vap.

What right have you to ask? you are my servant, and have no right to ask questions—I will drown myself.

Souf.

Ah, sair, when you get into dis vay!

Vap.

Yes, I know I am an ass, a fool, a blockhead, an idiot.

Souf.

Me no right to contradict you sair, but sair, when your papa •ie, you fancy yourself every ting, in de vorld, you vas de sexton, de clerk, de grave dig, and de coffin—den you fancy yourself de great bell, and your head de clappair and go ba—ba—ba.

Vap.

Oh! that was folly—but now I have reason—cool reason on my side—s'death, to think I should fall in love with a picture, pick't up at a masquerade, which perhaps represents no person living.

(Taking a miniature from his pocket.

Look Souffrance what eyes?

Souf.

Nui.

Vap.

What a mouth!

Souf.

Nui.

Vap.

What a countenance!

Souf.

Nui.

Vap.

What expression!

Souf.

Nui.

Vap.

Oh! I will go drown myself.

Souf.

Ah! no sair, you no drown yourself.

Vap.

Ha! ha! ha! I can't help laughing to think I should be such a fool, I that swore never to be in love!—Ha—ha—ha—if I laugh too much, I shall bring on the hystericks, I am very ill, my eyes are sunk.

Souf.

Dey wou'd be sunk if you vas fling yourself in de pond.

Vap.

I am very weak.

Souf.

Oh! sair, 'tis all fancy.

Vap.

You lie, you rascal (strikes him) I've no more strength than a mouse.

Souf.

I am ver glad, dere be no more such mouse in de house, but sair, If I might advise, I wou'd throw de picture in de pond.

Vap.

An excellent thought, Souffrance—and yet how can I find in my heart to do it!—here you shall take it, find the deepest part of the pond, and—why don't you take it?

Souf.

Oh! 'tis diamond, I vil take care you shall never seel more.

Vap.

Stay Souffrance—there is more philosophy in getting the better of one's folly, so give it me again.

Souf.

No sair.

Vap.

Give it me again, you rascal—I'll go instantly to Sir Matthew, he has expected me these two days, so get the horses ready directly.

Souf.

Sair, dey have not eat dere little bit of corn—I have no time to eat my bit of chicken myself.

Vap.

Why did you not give them their corn yesterday, I can't stay, Sir Matthew expects me?

Souf.

You vill not go dat figure.

Vap.

What is the matter with my figure, I am sure it will do very well?

Souf.

Oh, sair! you be no dress—you be no shave.

Vap.

Damnation, it will take an hour to get a barber,

Souf.

Sair, dare be one maitre Gossip vait at your appoint, dis half hour.

Vap,

Shew him in, I'll beshaved directly.

Souf.

Maitre Gossip, you come shave my master.

Enter GOSSIP.

Servant sir.

Vap.

Come, shave me directly, don't prate, Sir Mattehew will be glad to see me.

Gos.

I won't say a word, ah sir,—ah sir—I shav'd your father's honour.

Vap.

You did.

Gos.

Yes sir, I shav'd him every morning, when he was in hese parts.

Vap.

Well sir—very well sir.

Gos.

Your father set me up here, sir.

Vap.

Damn me, I'll set you down, if you don't shave me

Gos.

I don't know any body I wou'd sooner take by the nose and chin, altho' he's dead.

Vap.

I wish you wou'd not bother me about my father's nose and chin, but shave me.

Gos.

Ah! sir, I shall have more pleasure in shaving you than you're aware of, I have a respect for every hair in your chin.

Vap.

Why dont you shave me.

Gos.

Lord Sir, you're as queer as a quarten of soap after a week's wash—your father wou'd not use me in this manner, he lik'd to hear me talk, Dicky Gossip, say's he—he always call'd me Dicky, you're my barbatic—barbatic was not that drole—

Vap.

Damn me, why don't you shave me?

Gos.

Shave you directly, Sir, did you hear of the news?

Vap.

No sir, or do I wish to hear of it, I wish you would shave me?

Gos.

Some very particular event likely to happen, I shan't fail to foretell, at least by the time it will happen, for you must know, sir, I am a bit of a star-gazer, a sort of an almanack-maker, a kind of a Poor Robin.

Vap.

I did not send for a poor-Robin, I sent for a barber to have me.

Gos.

Ah! sir, I am not only a barber, I am a man of many callings,

Vap.

I wish you was a man of few words, with all my heart,—you're razor must be sharp enough.

Gos.

Sharp, sir, why its as smooth as sattin, cut like the wind.

Vap.

Like the east wind, I suppose, cut my face in two.

Gos.

That's a good joke, come I like that, but it wou'd not do in our shop, it wou'd be a forfeit.

Vap.

Damn your shop—why don't you shave me?

Enter TOM.

Master Gossip—master Gossip—the grocer's is on fire in you're street, you must make haste home or it will be at your house presently.

GOSSIP (draws a chair and sits down)

I know it, saw it in the sky, I was sure of it, I told them so in my almanack, says I, there will be a fire one day this month.

Vap.

I suppose sir, you expect me to shave you, now I shall never get shaved.

(walks about Gossip following.

Gos.

Oh sir! shave you directly,

Enter SOUFFRANCE.

Sair, de horses are ready.

Vap.

Then I'll go

Exit Vapour,

Gos.

Give me my napkin, he's gone with my napkin.

Tom.

Master Gossip, make haste, or the village will be all on fire.

Gos.

Can't go without my napkin, must have my napkin.

Enter VAPOUR.

Damme, sir! why don't you come and shave me, am I to wait all day?

(Snatches his wig and exit, followed by Gossip and Souffrance.

SCENE—A Garden.

Enter FLORELLA, gathering Roses.

AIR FLORELLA—Poesiello.

ARE ye fair, like op'ning roses? tender maidens, ah, beware?

When its bloom the heart discloses, love will find a dwelling there.

Prudence then in vain opposes; youth is never wise as fair.

Enter WOODLY.

Florella, still in masquerade?

Flor.

Don't mention it Mr. Woodly, still sighing and dying after my cousin Charlotte, there she is, go and speak to her.

Wood.

Such is the power she has over me, that I am not able to comply with your commands.

AIR. WOODLY.

CRUEL fair! who secret anguish can with wanton pride impart,

Can behold a lover languish, sporting with his faithsul heart.

Her, let ev'ry beauteous maiden, her, let ev'ry constant swain,

With her Woodly's fate upbraiding, banish from the smiling plain

(Exit Woodly.

Enter CHARLOTTE.

Well Florella, still in that masquerade dress.

Flor.

Shall I never hear the last of going to a poor harmless masquerade!

Char.

From which you confess, you return'd with the loss of your heart and picture, they are sufficient motives for your uncle's displeasure.

Flor.

My dear cousin, I'll tell you, my heart I did loose to be sure, but as for the picture—

Char.

Hey day, what next!

Flor.

Why, that, I put it Mr. Vapour's way, on purpose that he might pick it up, and his eyes—

Char.

Oh! his eyes to be sure!

Flor.

We're so fix'd on it, that I had a great mind to unmask, and shew him the original, if it had not been for the dignity of the sex, my dear consin.

Char.

You're a giddy mad girl, but what do you intend to do with Mr. Vapour?

Flor.

Not treat him as you do poor Woodly.

Char.

Would you have me run into his arms?

Flor.

Which you wou'd find no hard matter, for he has held them open to you these two years.

Char.

Well—well—I must go and prepare for the reception of Mr. Vapour.

Flor.

But I wish you would let me go and ask my uncle's pardon now?

Char.

No—no!—no man's temper's more mild, when taken at a proper season, but now his head's as crowded as a newspaper, and in as much confusion as your work-bag, what with the thoughts of his new varnish, and the expectation of Mr. Vapour,—I'll speak to him for you.

Flor.

Well, speak to him soon.

Char.

In the mean time, you keep out of Mr. Vapour's sight.

Exit Charlotte.

FLOR. (Taking a mask from her arm.

Oh! dear enchanting mask, 'tis to you I owe all the delightful ••easure I now feel!

AIR. FLORELLA.

•n the lightly sportive wing at pleasure's call we fly,

Hark! they dance, they play, they sing, in merry, merry revelry.

Hark! the tabor's lively beat, hark! the flutes in numbers sweet,

•ill the night, with delight, at the Masquerade,

Beneath this mask what tender woes we softly hear reveal'd,

Secure, that, while the bosom glows, our blushes lie conceal'd!

Let grave ones warn us as they may, of ev'ry harmless joy afraid!

While we're young while we're gay, let us frolick and play at the Masquerade

Hither trips along a beau so smart,—dear heart; pretty lass, th•• way—soft, soft, stay here;—my dear!

'Tis a favour, Sir, I must deny.—Oh fie! can I trust myself alone with you?—adieu!

Then amid the croud we mix again, and join the motly train.

Let grave ones, &c.

(Exit FLORELLA

SCENE—A Saloon with pictures on each side, with curtains.

Enter SIR MATTHEW and CHARLOTTE.

SIR MATTHEW.

I wonder Mr. Vapour is not come! but I am glad he did 〈◊〉 come until I had varnish•d my pictures (walks up to the pictures and draws the curtain) let's ••e how they look—very well—〈◊〉 well indeed, another coat of varnish and then.

Char.

Perhaps he has fell in love, and forgot his appointive

Sir Mat.

Fell in love! no—no—he may have fell from horse perhaps, he made a vow never to fall in love.

Enter SERVANT.

Mr. Vapour, Sir.

Sir. Mat.

Where is he? where is the dear boy

Enter VAPOUR.

Ah—ah—Mr. Vapour, I am glad to see you!

Vap.

Happy to see you Sir Matthew, Madam, you're most obedient.

(Bows)

Sir Mat.

Ah! that bow put me in mind of your father. Do you know Charlotte, this gentleman's father was fond of pictures— why, what's the matter Mr. Vapour?

Vap.

Nothing—nothing, Sir Matthew!

Sir Mat.

Why, you an't ill are you?

Vap.

Never in better spirits in my life, do I look ill madam?

Char.

You look as if you was in love.

Vap.

If I do it is a symptom of the liver complaint.

Char.

No, its the heart.

Vap.

No, its the liver—I know I shall be ill of an ague, or St. Anthony's fire: or an attack on my c•est—my throat seels queer, I am going to have the mumps—hem—pray Sir Matthew, do I look billious?

Sir Mat.

No, no.

Vap.

Hectic.

Sir Mat.

No—no—you're the picture of rude health.

Vap.

Then I shall die of a plethora.

Sir Mat.

Come, come, leave off this nonsense, and come and look at my picture—I am told you have a little love for a picture.

Vap.

Zounds! has he discover'd my weakness.

Sir Mat.

Here's one by Guido, and this by Salva•or Rosa, but here's a (drawing the curtain) picture.

Vapour ••arts.

Vap.

The very same as the miniature in my pocket! (runs to Sir Matthew) Oh! my dear Sir Matthew!

Sir Mat.

What is the matter? now some new disease.

Vap.

Oh! Sir Matthew, by all types of friendship that ever subs•••ed between our families—tell me who that divine picture represents.

Sir Mat.

What, do you think it pretty?

Vap.

Never 〈…〉 to equal its any of your family, Sir Matthew.

Sir Mat.

〈◊〉, yes its my grandmother.

Vap.

Your grandmother! is she living?

Sir Mat.

No, why if she had been alive now, she had been, let me see—aye—a hundred and twenty-two.

Vap.

Did she sing?

Sir Mat.

Oh yes, our family were all musical.

Vap.

Did she play on the guitar?

Sir Mat.

Who?

Vap.

Your grandmother.

Sir Mat.

Why, you seem to have taken a great liking for my grandmother, but come into the garden and see my improvements, and the gold and silver fish.

Exit Sir Matthew and Charlotte.

Vap.

I'll attend you Sir Matthew—S'death, that I should live to years of discretion, and fall in love with an old fellow's grandmother.

AIR. VAPOUR.

Ah, me! I am lost and forlorn! no hope can my anguish aslauge;

For, alas! long before I was born, my fair one had died of old age.

Ah, Wella—day! Well-a-day!

Why, Time, should'st thou be so uncouth! why wither her beauties divine?

Why rob her of every tooth before I had cut one of mine.

Ah Well-a-day! Well-a-day;

At night, to her tomb I'll repair, bewailing, she ne'er was my bride;

Cut a lock of her lovely grey hair, If any was left when she died.

Ah, Well-a-day! Well-a-day.

END OF FIRST ACT.

ACT.—II

SCENE—A Garden,

Enter FLORELLA, CHARLOTTE, and WOODLY.

Air Charlotte.

Full twenty times you've heard my mind, You're not the man I hope to find,

Or can for life approve;

In spite of all that you can say, I'm still inclin'd to answer nay,

And never think of love.

Give o'er your teazing, 'tis in vain; From me your suit will nothing gain,

My will you'll never move;

When I resign my hand and heart, I'll have a had gay, brisk and smart,

Or never think of love.

Flor.

Well, Charlotte, what do you think of Mr. Vapour.

Char.

Think, why he's a thousand more whims than a fine lady, and in a little time would fancy you some strange monster or other?

Flor.

So he did not fancy himself one, I should not care, they say nervous men make the best husbands, for you may fret them to death whenever you like, but why don't you pity poor Woody, there?

Char.

I must support the dignity of the sex.

Flor.

The dignity of the sex is best supported by a good husband, and if Mr. Vapour should like me—

Char.

What then?

Flor.

Why then, I would marry him, to support the dignity of the sex my dear cousin.

Char.

Well—well, how goes on your scheme?

Flor.

Oh! charmingly, you'll not betray us Woodly?

Wood.

No—indeed, not I.

Char.

Ah! no—no—you may rely on him, a look is enough.

Flor.

Then he deserves kinder ones than yon have given him lately however.

Wood.

I'm glad I have an advocate in you. Miss Florella, but why my dear Charlotte, don't you believe these tender sighs?

TRIO. FLORELLA, CHARLOTTE, AND WOODLY.

Flor, & Woodly.

Ah! believe these plaintive sighs,

Uneasing still, when you appear!

Charlotte.

Ah! forbear these plaintive sights,

Uneasing still, when I appear!

Flor. Woodly.

Tell not me, you can despise

A constant heart and vows sincere;

Charlotte.

Tell not to me, that I despise,

A constant heart and vows sincere;

Faith, in native colours shewn, wins at length our yielding heart;

Pleas'd an equal flame we own, pleas'd an equal joy impart

(Exeunt.

SCENE—A Hall.

Enter GOSSIP, meeting SOUFFRANCE.

Gos.

Ah! at! my old boy, give us your hand, how do you do, I am very glad to see you, where are you going?

Souf.

I was go to de apotecare of de village.

Gos.

The apothecary, very well, stay where you are.

Souf.

I can no stay, me must go for de apotecare for my master.

Gos.

Stay where you are, stay where you are, I am the apothecary, I came here on a bit of a carpentering job, for Miss Florella so I thought I might as well bring the decoction for your master in my pocket.

Souf.

Vat Apotecair, carpentair, barbere?

Gos.

Dentist and taylor at you're service, ecce signum.

(Shewing a flannel waistcoat)

Souf.

Vat is dat?

Gos.

Vat is dat—why a flannel waistcoat to be sure, which every body knows is design'd for our brave troops abroad, who, while we're at home warm and snug in our shops, defy cold, wet, and hunger, for the good welfare of old England.

Souf.

Dat is ver good.

Gos.

Very good, I believe it is indeed, its a very good thing for me I know, I always carry one about me, ready cut out, that I may loose no time in the job, I feel my heart so warm in the cause, that when I take my shiers in my hand, and extend my finger and thumb, just to take my simple allowance of cabbage, damn me they drop out my hand—can't take the cabbage.

Souf.

Monsieur Gossip, how you be so many trade?

Gos.

Why, as you are a foreigner, I'll tell you all about i• first, you know shaving was born with me, I was born a shaver —bleeding follows of course.

Souf.

Nui, I dare say ven you shave—

Gos.

Now my other trades are took up by motives of convenience, for being an apothecary, I sometimes keep my customer longer in the village than they otherwise might wish to stay—you know if they die, then I am a carpenter; and so finish my own job but if they shoud happen to recover, then I am a taylor, and make their cloaths-can't walk abroad you known without being fashionable

Souf.

You be great many trades for one man—vy vas you no• de sexton, and de grave dig too

Gos.

I should have been—I should been, but I let my brother in-law have them.

Souf.

Oh! den'tis all in de family.

Gos.

To be sure, never let any thing go out of the family—never—never.

Souf.

Dat is right, dat is right.

Gos.

Did you never see my sign?

Souf.

No.

Gos.

Never see my sign! its the prettiest sign in the village, hang over the door, under the pole, its the sign of the four-outs.

Souf.

Four-outs.

Gos.

Ah four-outs, there's wrote in large letters, GOSSIP that's me, you know my name's Gossip.

Souf.

Ah! I know you Gossip.

Gos.

Gossip, dentist, taylor, apothecary and Carpenter, I draw-out, I cut-out, rout-out, and lay-out.

Souf.

Den you never out.

Gos.

Come that's a very good joke for Frenchman, Oh! I'd like to forget, here's the decoction for master, mind and shake it, always shake it, for the best is at the bottom.

Souf

Vat is dis, vineger and brickdust? will it no hurt my master.

Gos

No—no—it won't hurt him, I take care never to hurt my nervous customers, they are the best customers I have to my back, tho' they are always ailing, they never die, so I don't get much out of them in the carpentering line, but as long as I hammer something out of them, I don't care how it is; do you know they wrote a song of me in these parts, they call me the wonderful barber, or Jack of all trades? I'll sing it you.

AIR—GOSSIP.

When I was a younker, I first was apprentic'd

Unto a gay barber, so dapper and airy;

I next was a carpenter, then turn'd a dentist,

Then taylor good Lord! then an apothecary,

But for this trade or that, they all come as pat they can;

For shaving and tooth-drawing, bleeding, cabbaging, and sawing,

Dickey Gossip is the man.

Tho' taylor and dentist but aukwardly tether,

In both the vocations I still have my savings;

And two of my trades couple rarely together,

For barber and carpenter both deal in shavings.

So for this trade or that, They all come as pat, &c,

But blunders will happen in callings so various,

I fancy they happen to some who are prouder:

I once gave a patient, whose health was percarious,

A terrible dose of my best shaving powder,

But no matter for that, my trades come as pat, &c.

(Exeunt.

SCENE—The Salloon.

Enter VAPOUR

I've slipt from Sir Matthew to take another look at the object of my passion, my passion!—my folly—Oh! that I was born three generations after thee, (draws the other curtain) what's here! his grandfather, this is my rival—oh if I had him here—this is the lovely picture— (Draws the curtain and discovers Florella dress'd as the picture, with a guitar) it looks fresher than ever, now I am such a fool I could fancy it was alive, there seems life in the eyes, it seems to breathe, Oh! my brain is certainly turn'd, I'll go back to Sir Matthew— (she shams) I could almost persuade myself, I heard her touch the guitar.

AIR—FLORELLA.

Say how can words a passion feign,

Where love ne'er taught to languish?

Or, when we own the tyrant's reign,

What art can veil our anguish?

The God of love alike disdains

To lend his form, or wear our chains.

Vap.

Oh! its alive—its alive!

Enter SOUFFRANCE.

Souf.

Sair de horses are ready.

Vap.

Souffrance, its alive—its alive!

Soup.

Vat is alive?

Vap.

Why, Sir Matthew's grandmother, (pushes off Souffrance) now I'll have one sweet embrace, (as he gets on the table, the picture drops down) —Sweet enchanting angelic,—Oh!—

Enter Sir MATTHEW, CHARLOTTE, & WOODLY.

Sir Mat.

Here Mr. Vapour,—Mr, Vapour!

Vap.

Oh! Sir Matthew, did you hear it?

Sir Mat.

Hear what?

Vap.

Hear her sing.

Sir Mat.

You're a singing in your head, I fancy.

Vap.

O yes, I am certainly crazy, well, good bye Sir Matthew, I'll go immediately.

Sir Mat.

Mr. Vapour, you're not going, there's all the neighbours coming to pay their respects to you.

Vap.

Yes—yes Sir Matthew, I must go directly.

Sir Mat.

Nay—nay—stay—Charlotte, you told me somebody wanted to speak to me, now I have a little time, let them come in.

Char.

O sir, she is no strange.

Enter FLORELLA, kneeling to Sir Matthew.

Flor.

Pray sir, forgive.—

Vap.

'Tis she,—'tis she!

Sir Mat.

'Tis who?

Vap.

Why, your grandmother.

Sir Map.

Ha—ha—ha, this is all owing to the family resemblance of my niece, to my grandmother.

Flor.

Pray sir, forgive this juvenile indiscretion.

(kneeling.

Vap.

Here am I rooted forever, unless you forgive whatever juvenile indiscretion, your grandmother has been guilty of.

Sir Map.

Rise—rise, Mr, Vapour, I do forgive her, I do forgive my niece.

(embracing Florella.

Vap.

O! this is alive, so you're Sir Matthews niece, are you?

Flor.

Charlotte can answer you that.

Vap.

And not his grandmother.

Flor.

No—that I can answer myself.

Vap.

Oh! Sir Matthew, will you bestow you grand—your niece on me in marriage.

Sir Mat.

Aye—aye—take her, and I will give you my grandmother into the bargain.—Charlotte, I see you like him too, so take her Woodly,

Vap.

But what says my divine Florella?

Flor.

Will you love, me, Mr. Vapour?

Vap.

Yes, for ever, if its only for the sake of Sir Matthew's grandmother.

FINALE. FLORELLA, CHARLOTTE, WOODLY, AND CHORUS.

FLOR.

Tho' now betroth'd in early life, I died in days of yore,

And happy you will take to wife a grandam of fourscore.

WOOD.

When blest with Charlotte's hand and love, we'll kiss till we Grow old,

May she in time a grandam prove, but never prove a scold.

CHORUS.

Since Wedlock must at last ensue, let's wed, and say no more

Our mother's and our grandams too, they all did so before.

VAPOUR.

Soon on my knee a boy may sit, and call me dear papa,

In fifty Years some little tit (To Florella) may squall out grand mama,

CHAR.

Tho' former times were not amiss, We're happier in our own

The type of England's nuptial bliss, now sits upon the throne.

CHORUS.

Since Wedlock, &c.

LIST OF PLAYS.

- Siege of Belgrade.

- Wild Oats.

- Prize.

- Son in Law.

- No song no supper.

- Notoriety.

- Duenna.

- My Grandmother.

- School for Scandal.

- Mountaineers.

- Farmer

- Love Alamode.

- Modern Antiques.

- Village Lawyer.

- Animal Magnetism.

- Battle of Hexham.

- Man of the world.

- Haunted Tower,

- Agreeable Surprize

- Poor Soldier.

Information about this book

Title statement

My grandmother: a musical farce, in two acts, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Hay Market. The music composed by Mr. Storace.

Hoare, Prince, 1755-1834.

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/3481

ID [isbn10]

1106004809

ID [isbn13]

9781106004802

ID [TCP]

K013141.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3316115701

ID [ECLL]

0404502700

Availability

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

Source

— My grandmother: a musical farce, in two acts, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Hay Market. The music composed by Mr. Storace., Hoare, Prince, 1755-1834.. 19,[1]p. ; 12⁰. [London] :: Printed for the curious, and sold by the booksellers in general,. 1794.. [The libretto only, by Prince Hoare.] [Reproduction of original from the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library (UCLA).] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCN22586.] [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).]

Creation

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Editorial practices

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