The old women weatherwise, an interlude: as performed at the Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane.

Table of contents

- [halftitle]

- [titlepage]

- DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

THE Old Women Weatherwise.

Enter TWITCH and CRAMP.

TWITCH.

GOOD-morrow neighbour, how do you do?

CRAMP.

Good-morrow, goody Twitch, to you.

TWITCH.

'Tis sorry weather, neighbour Cramp.

CRAMP.

Ah! very dirty, very damp.

TWITCH.

By the gnawing in my shoulder,

Before we are a fortnight older,

I fear we worse and worse shall see.

CRAMP.

Ah! that we shall, for my poor knee

Twitches and throbs, and gives me pain;

Depend upon't it brings us rain.

TWITCH.

Nay, I must differ from you there.

I rather think it will be fair;

For by the burning in my toe,

And by this corn of mine—oh!—oh!—

Good lack a-day! it makes me sweat—

Oh! the burning and the heat!

Besides, my cat so whisk'd about,

Up stairs and down made such a rout—

And that's a sign I always find,

That brings us either frost or wind.

CRAMP.

God send a change, then, very soon!

And! if we judge it by the Moon,

The new one that appear'd last night,

Lay on her back and shone so bright,

That, I assure you, on my word,

She looks as sharp as any sword.

TWITCH.

What says old Sodo?—He has learning,

And, has beside, a quick discerning;

He soon cou'd tell, should he but look

Into his fortune-telling book.

CRAMP.

I saw him scarce three nights ago;

But then he terrified me so,

I could not rest all night in bed,

His story ran so in my head.

Sometimes he called the Moon a punk,

And said that Neptune made her drunk,

And that she tippled greedily,

Upon the spring-tides of the sea;—

One night (this great fore-teller said)

The Moon was getting into bed,

And in her reelings had the lot,

To break her chrystal chamber pot;

That he attributes one great reason,

Why we have had so wet a season.

TWITCH.

Nay, I myself have seen her rise,

With sanguine nose and blood-shot eyes!

Sometimes, indeed, I've seen her shroud

Her head in shame behind a cloud.—

Say, what's the reason?—

CRAMP.

Why, I think,

As Sodo says, the Moon must drink.

TWITCH.

If that indeed, should be the case,

I think she's wise to hide her face.

CRAMP.

Once I remember, it was told,

When I was scarcely nine years old;

The earth had been all flooded o'er,

For six and thirty days and more;

'Twas the opinion of the wise,

Who knew the motion of the skies,

The Moon had turn'd her turvy-topsy,

And drank herself into a dropsy;

The reasons given were most various:

Some said the archer Sagittarius,

As he one night was passing by,

He let a bearded arrow fly;

And to this day some folks will tell ye,

He hit the Moon plump in the belly;

Which tapping her, for five weeks a'ter,

She teemed upon the earth her water.

Other gave out it was her grief,

And that suits most with my belief;

For now too plainly it appears,

She means to drown us with her tears.

TWITCH.

But here comes neighbour Rheum I vow,

Who wears a very thoughtful brow;

I wonder where my lady's been,

She shakes her head; what can she mean?

Enter RHEUM.

RHEUM.

Goodies, I'm glad to see ye—

Health and happiness be wi'ye!

TWITCH.

What news? What news?

RHEUM.

Sad news, alas!

If what I've heard should come to pass.

CRAMP.

What have you heard?

RHEUM.

Nay I've seen,

A wonder where I lately been;

For, coming home at twelve last night,

I saw a most alarming sight;

No good to this world it portends—

No—that I can assure ye friends.—

TWITCH.

Good lack! you speak and look so bitter,

It sets me in a horrid twitter;

My toothless gums together chatter,

I want, yet fear, to know the matter.

RHEUM.

Well, well—I'll tell ye all about it—

I'll tell ye truth—ye need not doubt it.—

Last night I saw a flaming comet!

Good gracious heav'n keep us from it!

TWITCH.

A comet!—Pray what says our friend?

RHEUM.

He says the world is near an end:

And I believe his saying's right—

Oh! what a striking, awful sight!

For such a swinging tail it bore,

I never saw the like before.

Nay more—he says—(but that between us)—

'Twill singe the bum of madam Venus!

And what is worse—we're all undone—

'Twill tumble us into the sun.

TWITCH.

Have mercy on us all I say,

And grant we ne'er may see that day!

RHEUM.

Methinks we hold this theme too long,

What say ye, goodies, to a song.

CRAMP.

With all my heart, and I'll begin,

Tho' I can't sing now worth a pin.

SONG.

O lack-a-day! O lack-a-day!

What shall I do, what shall I say?

Come never think,

But let us drink,

'Till we have wash'd our sins away.

Then let it snow,

Or let it blow, [Pulls a bottle out of her pocket.

When we are lin'd with brandy O!

For if we die,

'Twixt you and I,

We have a weary jaunt to go.

[They dance the hays, and then all drink.

RHEUM.

When the horrors grow too strong,

There's nothing kills 'em like a song.

CRAMP.

When song and dance will not prevail,

And all your wise prescriptions fail—

TWITCH.

At such a time, 'tis very handy,

To have hard by a little brandy.

SONG.

TWITCH, with the bottle in her hand.

Wet the other eye,

Wet the other eye,

Let's be jolly,

Melancholly

Is a folly;

Then refrain—

'Tis in vain

To complain,

Let us wet the other eye. [Drinks.

CRAMP.

Wou'd I had lived in David's days,

Or when the pious poet says

The priest were wont their horns to blow—

RHEUM.

Ah! we had been in heaven now!

SONG.

Psha! psha! what does it signify,

Whether to-day or to-morrow it prove;

Since we are all of us sure to die,

Let us enjoy the passion we love.

Come let's have a noggin, my goodies, a noggin,

Come let's have a noggin to chear up the heart;

Give me a good cordial, for we must be jogging,

Let's toss off a bumper before we depart.

[Exeunt singing.

N. B. At the conclusion of every song, they amble the hays together, to the tune they have sung.

FINIS.

THE Old Women Weatherwise.

THE Old Women Weatherwise, AN INTERLUDE; As performed at the THEATRE ROYAL IN DRURY-LANE.

LONDON: Printed for S. BLADON, No. 28, Paternoster-Row, 1770. [Price 6d.]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

CRAMP.

Mr. HARTRY.

TWITCH.

Mrs. BRADSHAW.

RHEUM.

Mrs. DORMAN.

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Title statement

The old women weatherwise, an interlude: as performed at the Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane.

Carey, George Saville, 1743-1807.

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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4690

ID [isbn10]

1106016890

ID [isbn13]

9781106016898

ID [TCP]

K068460.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3310148032

ID [ECLL]

0058600700

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Source

— The old women weatherwise, an interlude: as performed at the Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane., Carey, George Saville, 1743-1807.. 18p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed for S. Bladon,. 1770.. [Anonymous. By George Saville Carey.] [With a half-title.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT83949.] [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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