The dramatic history of Master Edward: Miss Ann, Mrs. Llwhuddwhydd, and others. The extraordinaries of these times. Collected from Zaphaniel's original papers. Illustrated with copper-plates.

Table of contents

- [frontispiece]

- [titlepage]

- Dramatis Personae.

- ZAPHANIEL'S Exhortation to his Fellows in the Faith.

- SCENE the FIRST.

- ACT I.

- SCENE II.

- SCENE III.

- SCENE MATRIMONY.

- The CHOICE SPIRITS FARCE.

- SCENE, the OVERTHROW.

- The COUCH SCENE.

- SCENE III.

- The DREAMING SCENE.

- ACT II.

- SCENE IV:

- The same SCENE continued.

- SCENE PLYMOUTH.

- The ORIGINALITY of GHOSTS; AND ANATOMY of PHANTOMS.

- Interlude between the ACTS, CALLED, The MISTERY REVEALED. This is to satisfy all the Curiosi in England, Scotland and Ireland, concerning the Spiriting away of Miss Canning. And also of the Cock-Lane, Miss Fanny's Spirit.

- SCENE, PLYMOUTH.

- SCENE next MORNING.

- SCENE the TROLLOPEE'S CATASTROPHE. OR RETORT UNCOURTEOUS.

- The Natural Reason for a LADY's LONGING.

- SCENE the DELIVERY.

- The METAPHYSICAL SCENE.

- SCENE, ISLINGTON.

- An interview between Author and Patron.

- An Account of the Continuation of this Work.

- CANNON. To the READER,

- The DEDICATORY SPECIMEN.

- TO THE PRIME GENIUS Of this AGE; Professor of the Art of Teaching the Passions, and unparallelled Adven turer.

- First Chapter of the Continuation of the His tory of NEDDY, &c. How Master Edward was to be brought up.

LE RIRE EST LE PROPRE L'HOMME RAB.

The Conoisseur is mistaken, who fancys the Back drapery to be only a SHIFT.
Frontispeice.

THE DRAMATIC HISTORY OF MASTER EDWARD. MISS ANN, MRS. LLWHUDDWHYDD, AND OTHERS.

THE EXTRAORDINARIES of these TIMES.

Collected from ZAPHANIEL's ORIGINAL PAPERS.

Illustrated with COPPER-PLATES.

LONDON: Printed for T. WALLER, opposite Fetter-Lane, Fleet-Street.

M DCC XLIII.

Dramatis Personae.

MEN.

- Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd,

- Master Edward,

- Ap Thomas,

- Samuel Foote, Esq

- G. A. Stevens,

- Corporal Knott,

- Harry Howard,

- Zaphaniel,

- Mr. Warner,

- Dancing-Master,

- Mountebank,

- Merry-Andrew,

- Connoisseur,

- Gentleman Haberdasher.

WOMEN.

- Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd,

- Miss Ann,

- Miss Shred,

- Governess,

- Winifred ap Shingle:

Constables, Bumbailiffs, Choice-Spirits, Gossips, Stroling-Players, &c. &c. &c.

ZAPHANIEL'S Exhortation to his Fellows in the Faith.

THOSE vain tale-bearing Books, entitled Memoirs, have so far subverted Readers, that the truth is to them but a threadbare Garment.

Unsatisfied are they with each History, unless the Writer delivereth all the Particulars, concerning every Person whom he memorialises; from the Colour of an Eyebrow, even unto the Pattern of a Shoe-buckle.

Since therefore it accordeth, that Narrators must use such Precision; enforced am I to extend my Plan, the primitive Design of which was no more, than to repeat the Spirit-moving Discourses, that preceded this Play Actor, and comical Comedians Regeneration; which were utter'd unto him, by the great Mr. Whitfield, the good Mr. Wesley, the pious Mr. Bradbury, and the learned Mr. Romaine. But now it behoveth me, for expediting the Sale of my Book, to give an Account of his Birth, Parentage, Education, Character, and Behaviour. Yet, for as much as it doth not, in any Sort, suit me to deliver those Historialisms, according to the Vanity of the Times, I have agreed with a Scribe of this Town, vulgarly called a Wit; and he hath undertaken to Dress these Anecdotes, in all the fashionable Language of fine fangled Phrases, for the Perusal of the Publick.

ADIEU.

Page. 1. SCENE the FIRST.

DANCING MASTER. EDITOR. ZAPHANIEL.

ONE afternoon as I was preparing a Political Essay, for the next day's Chronicle, in answer to a letter, I had inserted the week before, on the other side the question, the boy from the blue posts, said, two gentlemen wanted me at his master's.

My dear wife, whose prudence, and person, are unequalled, was unwilling I should go; but upon recollection, I ventured (not without some necessary precaution, I must confess) and was inducted into a room, where two very well looking men were seated.

The shortest of them was dressed in a laced coat, a fine flowered gold and silver waistcoat, figured Ruffles, a heart at his shirt bosom made of green and red stones; he had a sword and a bunch of ribbands at the handle, and he held a snuff-box in his hand.

As his complexion was of the olive tint, his eyes vacant, his nostrils charged with rappee, and his eye-brows, forehead, and other parts of his face, indicating he much practised the look contemptuous, I took him for some foreign nobleman, just imported: but he was a figure dancer at the Opera-house; and thus he opened the business to me.

DANCING MASTER.

Sir, we have taken the liberty to send for you; because we hear you are an author. That gentleman (pointing to his friend, who wore his own dark brown hair, parted on the top of his head, and smòothly stroked down each side of his temples, then tucked behind his ears, as you have seen window curtains turned back) Mr. Zaphaniel has got some very curious stories relating to a particular player; but he wants to have them put into a proper stile.

EDITOR.

What sort of a stile, Sir?

DANCING MASTER.

Nay as to that, Sir, it will be left to you. I have nothing to say to stile, for my part.—Gentlemen like me never read. I never looked into a Book in my life.—I keep my chariot, Sir, and people now-a-days, don't keep their chariots by book reading.

EDITOR.

Would you have it in a drole stile, Sir?

DANCING MASTER.

Ay, Ay, as drole as you can, faith—touch up all the actors and singers in it. They are only fit to be made game with; as to the dancers, you may let them alone, only if you can cleverly throw in any hints about myself, for I teach most of the people of fashion in town, I am indecd the best dancer either for execution or address, or school business, in Europe. I hate vanity—but I'll tell you more of myself, when you come to dine with me.—Where's the papers, Zaffy?

ZAPHANIEL.

There they are, tied up together in the window, thou may'st take them home (addressing himself to me) peruse the contents: give me thy opinion of them, I will come to thee at the seventh hour on wednesday next, as this porter seemeth to be very good, we will assemble here.

DANCING MASTER.

But Sir (addressing himself to me likewise) that you may be the better able to understand what you are about, you should have an idea of the person, who this history is wrote upon, therefore come to me next sunday, two o'clock, to dine at Jemmy Warner's, NED will be therè, and Nancy with him. NANCY you must know, Sir, is a wench he's a friend to, for the fellow faith has a devilish smart sort of a genius for high life; although he is but a player, he keeps his girl, wears embroidery, drinks burned champaign, and betts his 50 as freely, as if he was the best nobleman, or dáncing master in England.

EDITOR.

But, Sir, you spoke something of mentioning you in these memoirs.

DANCING MASTER.

You must know, Sir, there is no doing any good in the world, without puffing. It does not signify, if you are the cleverest fellow that can be, in your way, without you can puff yourself off, or get your friends to puff you off, you will never get forwards; for it is not now the question, whether an artist is a genius? But whether he is in fashion? Now there are several ways of managing this bringing a man into fashion; some chuse to bribe a very great lady's hair-dresser; others get into fashion 'cause their fathers have a vote, or their sister a pretty face, or they were born on this side, or that side Berwick-bridge; or, because—because—in short, Sir, there are many schemes, but I don't like any of them half so well, as printing your merits in the news papers, or writing a book about it.

I was let into the secret by my master, who got all his money by advertising. For, as he said, never mind what other people say, do you say as much as you can for yourself; and keep at it; and if you will go on telling the town, so you will talk them into it, until they believe every syllable about you.

The MSS. I took home with me, and, being promised ready money, began to digest the materials immediately.

ACT I.

SCENE II.

Master Neddy's Descent ascertained, from the Antidiluvian British Records of the Llwhyddwhuydd Family.

NO, not all the wives in the world shall persuade me to it. Not for all the wives in the world, would I suffer such a thing. (stamping with his foot at the same time, and throwing his hat hard upon the ground) Bite my nose? What the devil business has she to long to bite my nose? If it was a child of my own getting, and I loved the mother ever so well, I would not allow it.

Thus was Mr. Thomas Ap Morgan, a Welch chairman, very vehemently telling his mind to David Llwhyddwhuydd, his partner. David mildly replying, you know, my dear countryman, that now I am the very last, look you, of all the Llwhyddwhuydds in all Wales, and will any countryman of mine, any true Briton, and there are no true Britons but Welch folks, you know, Thomas.

THOMAS.

Yes, to be sure I do, and thank God for that, I am but a Welchman truly, but I am a true Briton, and Britons never will be slaves; and therefore why should your wife want to bite my nose then?

DAVID.

Now, Thomas, would you have the most ancientest family in all Wales, and all Merionethshire to boot, as indeed mine is, to be extinguished, rather than let yourself be put to a little pain; and if my wife should miscarry, there is an end of all my hopes; for only Providence and good Sir Watkins knows, when I shall be able to get another child; for we have been a long time about this; and if we lose this, all my hopes of having a family to inherit my nam• is gone; because, you know, we have never another child in the world, but that which is coming to be born now.

Thomas picking up his hat, and wiping the flaps of it with his elbow, replied, you know, David, that I would not have Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd vexed now she is so near her down-lying, upon any account; but why should you say yours is the most ancientest family in Wales, did not the Ap Morgans go to meet William the conqueror?

DAVID.

God's blessings upon us both, I am ashamed to hear a Welchman talk of any thing so little a while ago as William the conqueror; why my family, I have all the parchment account of it at home, was in Wales before the deluge.

THOMAS.

But where did they go when the world was drownded?

DAVID.

Why they went on board ship with Captain Noah, and the ship settled upon a very high mountain, and the mountain was Penmanmuir, and Wales was the first place peopled again; and Japhet married into our family, and I have some of his blood now in my veins, and our family has been in Merionethshire ever since. Now here lies the point, my dear. Suppose my son, because my wife should lose her longing, is to be born without a nose, or (God help us) with two noses now; for great authors say, that a woman with child, when she longs, or is affrighted the effects will be the same upon the child.

THOMAS.

But I don't believe it, no more than if I am carrying a fare, and a dog shall come behind

Page 29th.

me and bite my leg, that the gentleman or the lady, look you, in the chair, shall have the print of the dog's teeth in their skin.

DAVID.

But I will shew you, friend Thomas, from the testimony of learned wise men (pulling a book out of his pocket) I copied them with my own hand-writing, to convince you of the danger, that may attend letting my wife, that you profess so much friendship for, lose her longing.

THOMAS.

Well, you know, Mr. David, I love to hear histories, so let us sit down. They did so; and Mr. Lwhyddwuyd began to read the testimonies of the learned, as follows;

CASE. I.

Aldrovandus relates, that a woman in Sicily observing a lobster taken by a fisherman, and being moved by an earnest longing for it, brought forth a lobster, altogether like what she had seen and longed for.—Vide the copperplate.

II. Is told by John Swammerdam. A certain woman at Utrecht, being with child, was frighted with the sight of a negro, and apprehended to be delivered of a perfect black; but at last recollecting herself, she made use of a second imagination, to prevent the danger from the first; for she washed herself from head to foot, with hot water, to clear the child from blackness. The time of her delivery being come, the child was born with all his teeth, and appeared perfectly white, except those places, the hot water did not reach.

III. By ditto. A child was born in Normandy with horns upon his head, and cloven feet, and he proved afterwards to be a man of extraordinary sense and judgment: the occasion of that misfortune was, that his father having represented a satyr upon the stage, had the knowledge of his wife in that ridiculous dress.

IV. We have a case in Fabricius Hildanus, upon the faith of Ludovicus Horniceus, a physician of Frankfort, viz. a woman having been frighted with the firing of a gun, was delivered of a child with a wound in the back, of the same shape, as if it had been done with a musquet shot.

V. Father Malebranche, in his search after truth, relates, that seven or eight years ago, was seen in the hospital of incurables a young man, who was born an idoet; and whose body was broken in the same places where malefactors are broke; he had lived near twenty years in that condition, and has been seen by several persons. The cause was, his mother hearing a criminal was to be broke, went to see the execution.

Father Malebranche proceeds to explain this strange accident: children, says he, see what their mothers see; they hear the same cries, they receive the same impressions of the objects, and are moved by the same passions; all the blows given to the malefactor did violently strike the mother's imagination; and by the counterblow, the tender and soft brain of the child.—The fibres of the child's brain, not being able to resist the torrent of the spirits, were broken; that's the reason why he came into the world without understanding. The violent course of the mother's animal spirits went with force from her brains to the several parts of her body, which answered to the parts of the malefactor: 'twas the same in the child—but because the bones of the mother were capable to resist the violence of the spirits, they were not wounded. But this rapid stream of the spirits was capable to carry away the soft and tender parts of the bones of the child; and 'tis to be observed, that if the mother had determined the motion of the spirits, toward any other part of the body, her child had not had his bones broke; but that part which answered to the part towards which the mother determined her spirits had been sorely wounded.

VI. A gentlewoman of Helsenor, says Bartholin, was delivered of a great cat; which, to the astonishment of the assistants, ran away with great celerity, and was never seen afterwards—because the lady was frightened with one.

VII. Bartholin also relates; I have it, he says from John Naborousky, a gentleman of Poland, and my good friend, that a woman of that country was brought to bed of two small fishes, without scales; which were no sooner born, but they swam in the neighbouring waters, as naturally as others do; because the lady did long for them; so that you see, my friend Thomas, look you, it is all the same, according to the opinions of these learned people, whether a lady is frighted, or whether a lady longs.

THOMAS:

Well, let us hear some more stories, in the Name of God.—I do love to hear such things, to be sure; but God help me, for my own sake, but to be sure I cannot believe all these things, so well as the scholars do, because I have not their learning; but go on, do my friend, do go on. Which request David obeyed immediately.

VIII. Philippus Meurs, apostolical prothonotary, and cannon of St. Peter's in Louvain, a reverend ancient man, affirmed unto me, and several others, says our author, Thomas Fienus, that he had a sister compleat in the rest of her body, but without a head. Instead of which, was joined to her neck a shell fish, in the likeness of a sea-muscle, made up of two shells, which shut and opened; and by which, from a spoon, she took her nourishment. And this he said was occasioned, for that the mother with child with her had a strong desire after some muscles she beheld in the market, but could not procure at that instant. This sister of his lived in this monstrous condition, to be eleven years old; and then, by accident, happening angrily, and very strongly, to bite the spoon they fed her with, and breaking the shells, died quickly after.

IX. Schenkius tells of a woman very big; who, among other discourses with her neighbours, mention being made of her great belly, she told them, she reckoned about the time of Epiphany, or festival of the three kings. Upon which the good woman wishing she might bring forth three kings; she merrily answered, with all her heart; and accordingly, at the time, she bore three sons; one of them an Ethiopian, or of a black colour, as usually one of those kings are painted. The same relation is confirmed by Cornel. Gemma, being seen, as he says, by great multitudes, in the city of Louvain, and authenticated by undoubted testimony.

X. There was a lady, a kinswoman of mine, says Sir Kenelm Digby, who used much to wear black patches upon her face (a fashion among young women) which I, to put her from, used to tell her in jest, that the next child she should go with, should come into the world with a great black spot in the midst of its forehead; and the apprehension was so lively in her imagination, that she had a daughter born, and marked just as the mother had fancied, with a great black spot upon her.

XI. There lived amongst us at Bern in Switzerland, says Gul. Fabricius, an honest woman, who, about ten years since, being great with child, and quarrelling with another woman, put herself into such a passion, that she was unable to contain herself. After which, falling into labour, she was brought to bed of a daughter, of a couragious and heroick mind, but her feet and hands contracted, as if ready to fight, and her whole body in continual motion, so that she walks, as it were, dancing, and in a trembling posture, after the manner of angry people, unable to govern their passion.

XII. Amb. Parey gives us to understand, that in the year 1517, a child was born (in a village near Fontainbleau) with the shape of its face exactly like that of a frog; which was brought to pass by the mother's holding that creature in her hand, to allay the heat of a fever, about the time of her conception.

XIII. But something singular beyond all these, is the tale of Languis, of a woman longing to bite the naked shoulder of a baker passing by her; which, rather than she should lose her longing, the good-natured husband hired the baker at a certain price. Accordingly, when the big-bellied woman had bit twice, the baker's wife broke away from the people who held her, would not suffer her to bite her husband again; for want of which, she bore one dead child, with two living ones.

Why then, I say (thus Thomas very loudly began, hitting his hand hard upon the table) I say, the baker was—.

At that instant a voice from the street called chair, chair; out run Mr. David and Mr. Thomas, the book, the nose, the wife, were in an instant forgot; for the occult desire of money-getting annihilates all other considerations, as black absorbs all factitious colours.

How the chairman came to be so learned (as we all love to know every thing) courteous reader, you shall, if you please, be informed.

Upwards of twenty years had he taken in the Magazines, and had made so many abstracts, and remembered so many extracts, that if he had
Page 12
not been a chairman, he might have been made honorary professor of universal erudition.

He was the living Lexicon, to which the whist and jockey clubs applied, whenever they made a bett about spelling a word; and he had, from observation, acquired such a genius or power in disputation, that all smatterers he silenced, as easily as Socrates did the Sophists; if a true scholar happened to contradict him, David, from his knowledge of the world, dumfounded the student, by offering him ten pound on't; for he proceeded upon one general, and not an often controverted principle, i. e. no rich men will mind learning; ergo, only poor folks are scholars.

Therefore every fool, every dunce, dares to assert, to contradict, to find fault, or praise; even with the utmost ignorant effrontery, and oppose the opinions of men of real merit—blockheads having one undeniable resource, the proposing a wager.

Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd, master Neddy's mama, was born in America, the daughter of a mulatto woman, her papa, the famous councellor Justice, who was sent abroad on account of some books being missing. The grandfather's disgrace is the reason why none of his descendants ever chose to learn their letters.

Hence, as Heinsius observes, it is very easy to account for the Hero of this History being illiterate.

Miss Justice was imported under-cook to a West-Indian family, who came to England for improvement; they hired a fine house the south side of Maidstone, within half a mile exactly of the market-place, and on the right-hand of the London road.

N. B. The utmost precision is made use of in relating the situation of the house, because an attention to truth is the Editor's greatest care throughout the whole of this publication.

In Maidstone, at this time, there was a company of Comedians, that town and county being remarkable for the residence of such sort of people. It is an observation of naturalists, that turnips and attornies thrive best in Norfolk; that Sussex is noted for bad roads and smugglers; and that it is as impossible to eradicate buggs from London, as to free Kent from Hoppickers, Gipsies, and Stroling Players.

In all rural theatrical communities, it is the custom of one of the actors to carry play-bills to the people of fashion's houses about the country; and as these Jamaica gentlefolks were remarkable for sumptuous living, the manager cast himself into that part of the business; this occasioned much murmuring when his back was turned, among the rest of the company; they would meet at the ale-house, and call him all the scoundrels, and tyrants imaginable; but the moment they saw him returning, they run out of the room, begged he would drink with them, and happy was he; who could get his handkerchief out first, to wipe the dust off from his master's shoes. He loved, like most of his brethren, eleemosinary high living, therefore he never missed carrying up a bill every morning to the West Indian squires; and used to wait in the hall, at first, along with the butcher's boy, to know their honours commands.

Page 15. The Moonlight amour Scene 4th.

But Miss Justice, being very fond of players, asked this proprietor of cloaths and scenes to step into the pantry, where the rest of the servants assembled, there he was treated with several remnants of danties saved from yesterday's dinner, and he made the kitchen company vastly merry, for he could be exquisitely entertaining.

He spoke Tragedy speeches to them, he showed them tricks, he made them faces, he sung songs, he acted the lame man, and the stuttering man, and stood upon his head, and drank out of his shoe, no man had more wit than he had; and he rehearsed all the other comicalities, by which benefit-making geniuses push their tickets off. The young lady above-mentioned fell in love with this master actor, his name, or at least the name he went by, was Samly; and as Mr. Samly was seeing Miss Justice home from the play-house, in about a week afterwards, she confessed her affection to him, and informed him, that she had forty nine pounds of her own, and in her own possession, all in specie.

Samly immediately fell in love with her, they vowed eternal fidelity to each other, and ratified those vows by the most particular engagement, before they went out of the home close, while the bright stars in the fiery fretted canopy of heaven sparkled over their heads, and the silent gloworms twinkled at their sides, the leafy hedges rustling to their embraces, and the whoping owls at distance toot tooting to their sighs (as Mr. Samly observed) made up great nature's loving concert. The next week, unknown to any of their acquaintance, they set out for London together; Samly left his cloaths and scenes behind him; indeed they were mortgaged for rather more than the worth, to the landlord of the stable in which they acted.

The Editor of this Treatise remembers this Mr. Samly's company at Maidstone, and they had the use of a brewhouse to shift their cloaths in; the ladies dressing-place was the mash-tub, and Alexander the Great, he has known to rehearse his mad scene very cleverly in the cooler.

The brace of lovers determined to remain in cog for some time in London; because, as Miss Justice said, what would all the world think of her, if all the world should come to know it? therefore desired Mr. Samly would get a licence as soon as possible.

That he promised upon his honour should be his next morning's business; and added, at the same time, my ineffable Chloe, we will content ourselves with these lodgings for the present; what to thee or me does it a drachma signify, if as yet, we are at St. Giles's or St. James's—no, we are ourselves, let us be where we please.

Upon the instant he brandished his lady's curling irons, with which he was then pinching his bag wig.—Majestically he strode cross the room, and then with most emphatical dignity—he—spit out of the window.

Resuming his subject, thus he went on—before the winter comes on, thou opening rose of beauty, we'll take a ready furnished house in some of the genteel squares about Piccadilly. But first, I'll determine with myself, which Theatre I chuse to belong to.—A man of my merit, my lovely attractress, will be caressed by the managers of both houses; so I'll play them off one against t'other; promise them both, and at last, who bids most has me. I know my cue—but I am resolved never to come upon the square of common salary actors; no, I will have so much certain when I play, or else such a sum of money out of the house as a sharer, and this way—(hitching up his breeches at the same time) this way I shall, keep up my consequence; and consequence is what an actor ought to study, as much, ay, and more than his parts. But it happened to Mr. Samly, as it may have to thee, reader, his expectations were superior to his advancement; the managers of both Theatres refused him.

His case was very severe, he had a great mind to print it, to let the town know how he was used; he did so, but it did not answer any purpose; the public took no notice of it, and the bookseller lost money by it.

His lady's fortune being soon dissipated, duns grew exceedingly impertinent, misfortunes presented themselves before him, in all the frightful phantoms of hunger, bad shoes, bum bailiffs, rainy weather, no trust, and an empty coal-hole; he cursed the pride of managers, their ignorance, their inhumanity; he damned the town, he despised life, he grew desperate; and one morning, before the fringed covering of his lady's eye-lights were withdrawn, he went down stairs, and opening the street-door, he, I am afraid it will never be believed, but the fact is authentic, and I can bring several reputable people to witness the truth of it,—he, that very morning, resolved—to work at his own business, and relinquish the stage for ever, saying, with Cardinal Wolsey,

Farewel, a long farewel to human greatness; onwards he went, leaving his lady, London, his creditors, and choice spirits, making the best of his way to his own parish in Nottinghamshire, to work at the stocking frame, nor cast one longing lingring look behind.

SCENE III.

Miss Shred and Miss Justice.

MISS Justice received a letter from Samly that very day by the penny-post, with his reasons for absenting himself; and as the epistle is really curious, we shall present a copy of it to the reader, recommending the author to the notice of the gentlemen publishers of Periodical Papers, as a proper person to be employed by them, when they need a journalist.—Since he can moralise, seems to know mankind, has a pretty knack at abuse, can write very well on the worst side the question, does not much mind orthography, and by his manner, I fancy him neither timid, hesitating, or conscientious.

To Mrs. SAMLY.

My dear Adorable,

WHEN I consider life, 'tis all a cheat; as to the managers, blast such scoundrels; however, I'm resigned to fate, whatever world I next am thrown upon, cannot be worse than this—as I am now determined to rennounce the follys, passions and delights of desire, I have been obliged to leave thee, my life and soul, my all that heaven can give; what can I do, while there was one thing my charmer had left to raise money upon; did I desert her—no— did I not, my lovely creature, stay with thee till the last penny was spent; for we were rich in love; but now approaching want, with all its wofill train appearing, I retire from the storm, not being able to live, my dear, and see thee in distress; therefore have cut myself off from all the pleasure of loved London, and thee the chief, and condescend (curse on my stars) to the vile mekanicall method of being obliged to get bread, by working at my business.

I leave you in good hands, I know my landlord loves you; and if during my exile, as he is rich, you admit him into my throne, only for a time, why it will be political; I give you leave, as it may expedite my recall. As Congreve says, he takes your body, I your mind. I must have the better bargain—remember this is my request, nay, my command to yield yourself up to one person, for the sake of another, and what is done by the finest women in England, and what I would do for you, with the finest woman in England.

Adieu.

After Samly had put the letter in the postoffice, he recollected his dear Chloe could not read—however, upon reflection, he was not sorry for that; for, by heavens, and all the ingenuity of arts and sciences, he called out, it is an elegant Epistle, equal to any of Pope's literary correspondence; and whoever my girl gets to read my letter for her, will and must admire the writer, and with me lament the loss which the town must receive, by those fellows of managers not employing me.

Just as the epistle above-mentioned came to hand, it happened that Miss Shred was upon a visit to Miss Justice, or Mrs. Samly, as she was called in the neighbourhood. This young lady, the visitor, had a very great taste for plays herself, and was an occasional actress at Richmond, and at Bartholomew Fair; her father has been breeches seater to me these nine years, and it was from his mouth, that I have been assured of the authenticity of this relation.

As soon as Miss Justice had heard the letter read, she shrieked, she stamped, she wrung her hands, she took salts: not Ariadne for the loss of Theseus; not a quean condemned to the ducking-stool; not—but no allusions could carricature her. Her lamentations brought up the landlord Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd, to whom Miss Shred discovered Samly's perfidy, although she did not show him the letter, but begged Mr. David would leave the lady a little until she came to herself. As it is good manners to do so, we will attend the chair—carrying gentleman down stairs, who rejoiced exceedingly at the two pieces of good news, as he called them.

In the first place, to find Mr. Samly was not her husband; and in the next place, to suppose Mr. Samly was run away from her; for David long had loved, long had he secretly admired her.

The tender God of soft desires roused all the sentimental soul of Llwhyddwhuydd, softning his heart, as vinegar will render marble supple.

'Twas on the 4th day after Mr. Samly and his Chloe had taken the lodgings, that Miss Justice fryed some beef stakes and onions for Mr. Samly's dinner, and invited their landlord to the feast; so relishing was the sauce,
Page 21.
so crisp the vegetables, that the landlord thought her the finest woman he ever saw; but when, on the next day, he discovered her darning so nicely her gallant's stocking, which, like a French chicken glove, she had drawn upon her arm, while Samly was rehearsing Othello, the conquest was complete, he became perfectly her slave, and sighing, vowed, upon his honour, madam Samly was the most compleatest gentlewoman to look to, that ever he did see in all his life. Dash not the book down, oh ye delicate, because I have related unembellished the beginning of love. — Love has many beginnings, but one ending. Love is like the city of London in a map of England, and the senses are the turnpike roads on which travellers trot to it. Love is like the tunes in the Beggars Opera, nay, its like the Beggars Opera itself; because the catastrophe is often brought about very unexpectedly.

Men have odd tastes; why then should David be blamed for this? Is it not common for ladies to relate the surprising conquests they have made over their husbands, and the simple means by which those victories have been obtained. Madam Blanch avowed to me, her spouse fell in love with her for her small ear. The deputy's wife shot her good man with a pair of black sattin shoes, and stone buckles; the motion of the hips in walking has made many lady's fortune. Esquire Pointer declared but last week, he was particularly struck with the white point of his wife's elbow: and with all-becoming reverence for the marriage state do I speak this, as I am myself in that nuptial band, I was won to surrender my liberty to the all excellent graces of my wife, who, in her virgin state, alarmed my eager desires, when she threw herself into that most graceful attitude of tying her garter. Here I must beg leave to be indulged with some anecdotes concerning my spouse.

She was born, she was bred a gentlewoman, I married her out of Sir Trinket Trolly's family; her mamma was companion to lady Trolly, and my wife, born in that house, was educated in all the becoming elegance, inherent to a woman of the first quality.

While I paid my addresses to her, several wealthy tradesmen proffered her their services; but her soul was above mixing with vulgarities. She scorned to listen to the voice of mechanic money-loving-slaves, she valued the addresses of a man of wit, more than all Peru.

On that hint I spoke,

She lov'd me for the stories which I told;

And I loved her, 'cause she did listen to them.

The rules of politeness obliged us to leave the afflicted Miss Justice, when decency desired Davy to go down stairs; but now we have liberty again to walk into her apartment.—Sit down, good reader, you are very welcome, the young lady is pretty well recovered, a serenity beams upon her brow, there is not the least print of affliction's footsteps to be seen upon her countenance.

But this calmness was not owing either to the affected pedantry of school stoicism, called philosophy, which honest teague, who never read a page of Seneca, so well defined, by saying, by Jasus I am born to be unhappy, so I'll make myself very easy about the matter.

Neither was the young lady of so callous a constitution, as to be easily reconciled to the departure of her gallant, by the method which the present females of intrigue make use of, viz. immediately to throw themselves in the way of another—no, this happy restoration was effected by that never-failing Nostrum, Nants Brandy. Q. S.

Miraculous specific! blush, blush, ye diplomists of Gresham, ye who pretend to understand things; asico for your knowledge, pound all the Materia Medica together in a mortar, can ye compose such a mental Succedaneum? — Behold, reader, the two young ladies, and mark with what courteous words the visiting lady addresses the lady visited.

Mrs. Shred.

My dear Samly take t'other pinch, it will do your head good. Thus kindly did my taylor's daughter console her companion, untwisting at the same time her paper of rappee.

Mrs. Justice.

Call me not Samly, dear creature, I conjure you, I detest the name. Oh Miss Shred! what woman would ever put her trust in man.

Mrs. Shred.

Curse on um indeed, my dear, man is as the poet says, ‘Deceitful as the vind.’

Therefore woe be to the woman, who has imbibed any fond ideas for Wits or Players, or such sort of Geniusses.

Curse me, if ever Wit did any good to man, woman or child, since the invention of clean linnen.—As to WIT'S perdition, catch such scrubs—they behave as bad to their ladies, as they do to one another.

They'll never give an absent friend a good word, or allow a girl a second gown to see company in.

Miss Shred's Story.

Yes—I must confess, a wit was the first man who really had me, that is, critically speaking, possessed my soul; as to my person, that was merely passive, in all those other connections, to which my interest made me submit; because, as I was then upon the town, and my inclinations not being engaged with my embraces, I was as indifferent to the performance as an actress, when she plays a part don't please her.

In London, madam, there are men, as well as women, on the town, and they go by the names of Wits, and Droles, and Clever-fellows, and Choice Spirits; whether they give these titles to themselves, or other people call them so, its no matter, but they are sent for into company to divert people of fashion, with what they can do, just as girls are, I mean, madam, in the way of singing and saying comic things, and telling stories.

It is a shame though, men should expose themselves so, because they are all of them bred to trades, and might get their livings honestly and decently, if they were not a set of lazy, mean-spirited, and conceited fellows.

Now when any of our sex is blasted, it is all up with us, we are unhappy enough to be reduced to the necessity of going into company, or starving; no body will employ us in an honest way; because a girl who is forced to be a whore for her livelihood, is looked upon (especially by all good christians) to be the most contemptible creature upon the face of the earth.

I sent a card to one of these wits and geniuses to sup with me; the consequence of which you may naturally suppose — we went to bed together. — Really I loved him infinitely, for he was not only vastly clever, but immensely odd, and that, you know, takes with our sex immoderately.

But he soon behaved as all such sort of people will, horridly ingrateful. For after I had paid all his debts (they were not large, indeed, because no shops would give him much credit) new cloathed him, and put money in his pocket, he used me—as surlily, as if I had been his wife; had I really been married to him, he cou'd not have treated me worse.

The word fool, fool; was perpetually his answer, not only to me, but to all his acquaintance; we were all fools, he swore, and yet in the whole fifteen months of our cohabitation, tho' he called every body bockheads, yet he never did one rational, or just thing: but by chance; he could repartee drolely, tell very high stories, argue charmingly upon all subjects, make songs as fast as I could cut out cap-patterns; but his words and his deeds were no more alike, than the sign of a dolphin, and a real one.

He once wrote a book in praise of neatness in dress, of elegace, and of decency, he was three weeks about it, and in all that time, never washed his hands, face or teeth once. — Cleanliness, or dirt, was all the same to him, money or no money — only let him but get into company, 'was all he cared for, when he had no money, he was tossed into the reckonings when he got three or four guineas, he threw it away; and he would sooner sit without shifting himself for a fortnight, in a night cellar, if he had no body left that he could make laugh but link boys, than be regular to the bounds of decency and domestic enjoyments.

He grew so overbearing at last, so irregular and so obstinate, that I could not bear it — he scorned to be talked to, and too proud to say he had ever been in the wrong — he was indeed, as all wits are, irresolute and froward as a baby, giddy as a drunken man, absent as a lunatic, as difficult to be pleased as a vexed ideot, and conceited as an Opera Singer.

Oh, my dear, never have any thing to do with your geniuses, unless you can get one of them now and then to write a song upon you, for that very often helps a lady to many a good friend—but for all that, I never would have any connection with such sort of sparks—as to granting a man that made a good song upon me a favour, ang passawnt, as the French say, I should not mind it—but don't never, dear creature, be fond of them—no—the only men worth a lady's notice, are those gentlemen, who have no wit indeed, but then they have what is better than all the wit, genius and understanding in the world—and what most commonly wit, genius and understanding never have any thing to do with; and that is, MONEY—Money, my dear. Let but a lady have that—and she is sure of having, doing, saying, and being, just what she pleases.

The next person to whom I was predestinated, happened to be neither a wit nor a scholar, nevertheless he was both a genius and a gentleman, because he was a gamester. As daring as a lyon, he would as soon draw his sword as his snuff-box, and was as quick as volatile salts.

He valued his honour before any other consideration, in the way of playing any game at cards or dice; for he would sooner venture his life than be found out, so careful was he of his honour. You can't imagine how polite he was, and what fine company he kept, although, as I told you, he could hardly write his name, or spell a word of two syllables; but a gentleman's being ignorant of letters, is no proof against his politeness; for really, I believe, it would go very hard with some folks of the best company, if they were to be examined concerning their reading and writing.

Miss JUSTICE.

Very true, indeed, miss; but thank God, persons in polite life, are two well bred to be pedants, and I would no more ask any fine gentleman or lady after their scholarships, than I would after their religion; because both the one and the other's out of fashion now.

Miss SHRED.

Well, madam, my friend did such things in the money-winning way, and with such grace!—to be sure he lived like a nobleman, and mantained me like a dutchess; I had my equipage all upon gilded springs, and I used to scorn all low bred persons, as I called them, for walking a foot; because, as my friend used to tell me, nobody never need be poor, if they had but a spirit to do things — for if people wanted luck, they should make it, or else be punished with poverty for their faintheartedness.—But for all that, what by the law, or by one thing or another, we dwindled, to be obliged to live in a two pair of stairs back-room, madam, as you may do now; and I can't but say, we used to sit and think ourselves very ill done by Providence—because, why should we be poor? when we took as much pains in the proper way of getting fortunes, as ever any people did who got estates, as the fashion is now to get them. Well, madam, at last we parted, and he married a methodist's widow, with 500 l. a year jointure, and I engaged myself as a figure dancer at the Opera House, because I was told, a lady had a better chance there of being taken into keeping, than at the English Play-houses. But I did not find the Opera people's taste so eager at intriguing with any of our sex, as I expected.—O, curse that Italy, my dear—but no more of that—I grew very low, and I sent to my late friend, who had married the methodist's widow for a guinea; and his answer was, truly he had done with all the vanities of this life, and so should I; and that he would advise me not to look after money, but go and seek the Lord.

Miss JUSTICE.

But who am I to seek, who'll seek me?

Miss SHRED.

Nay, as to that, madam, never despair, remember what is said to you in the letter about your landlord David.—I am sure it may be easily brought about for him to marry you, I have so often heard him say, what would he give for such a wife as you.

Page 7th. Case 1.

Miss JUSTICE.

But, dear creature, would it not be immensely shocking, and absurd in me—in me, to descend from being an actor's, nay a manager's mistress, and become a chairman's wife—perish that thought—can I bear it? can I, dear Miss Shred, can I, who came from a gentleman's family. Yes, madam, my papa was a counsellor at law, he was prosecuted for his merit, persecuted for the superiority of his talents, and banished from his native country by faction; but I am his own daughter; and can I ever agree to have these arms filled with any body, who is not a gentleman born, or who is not so by profession; or is not a person of consequence, ay, consequence; that was what my deceiver Samly used to insist upon; his consequence; but why should I mention him, or any other belonging to the stage; I, who have suffered by my fatal connection with an actor; O! that the world was all in flames, that final destruction might seize on all, since I am deceived; deserted. Farther she could not proceed, for her friend, fearful least her companion should relapse into fresh grief, snatched up the pewter measure in a moment, in which was one remaining cordial draught, and holding it to Chloe's lips, insisted on her not making any more words, but drink it off.

CHLOE, [Wiping her lips.

Dear Shred, you are so immensely kind; that, to convince you of my esteem, I will be ruled by you, and marry this horrid creature; nay, I'll do more; for from henceforth I bid adieu to all high life't ideas, to the fond charms of even dear intrigue.

Miss SHRED.

Miss Justice, you should not make rash vows; consider, my dear, you are a gentlewoman, and many gentlewomen marry only for the sake of intriguing; we should use the sex as that sex ought to be used. I would always chuse the man, who I fancied most properest for my interest, to be my husband; and then chuse the man, whom I most fancied, for my lover.

CHLOE.

But how, dear creature, am I sure, that as this odd mortal, this David, my landlord, now he knows I was only Samly's mistress, how am I sure, I say, that he will have me for a wife? and upon my soul, I would sooner die than derogate so far from the dignity of my birth, and my principles of honour; as to live with any man but a gentleman, without being married to him.

Miss SHRED.

As to that, my dear, you are vastly in the right on't; and our sex ought to be as strict in keeping up our consequence, in that point, as any, or more than any other; but as to the landlord's knowing of your having an affair — to be sure, although he is but a chairman, yet he is a Welshman; and he might, perhaps, have too much spirit, had he not lived so many years at this end of the town, as to know that it is fashionable; and what is fashionable, you know, must be polite. Besides, my dear, not one of his companions dare to hit him in the teeth with it, if he was to marry you, for fear of offending one or other of their best customers.

CHLOE.

I am determined; but, at the same time, am as determined, to avoid even the appearance of intrigue; what other ladies of taste and delicacy do, shall be no rule for me to go by. I will be true to my husband, my honour, and myself, nor ever again grant any other man (save him) an involuntary embrace.

The next week's sun saw her blazon'd in the matrimonial installation. With how much firmness of soul, she maintained her resolution of chastity, will be expressed in some of the succeeding chapters. In the conclusion of this, I hope, the reader will give me leave to observe, that though, like Miss Shred, ladies may be women of the town, and actresses at the same time; and that there are some females belonging to the Theatres, who, now publickly act in both capacities; yet so far from being a reproach, it is the greatest argument, which can be brought, in support of the profession of a player; for although the want of chastity, like the want of money, may make some people appear but in an indifferent light; yet, according to the times, neither of them have any thing to do, at present, with the respect which is paid to the accomplishments of genius.

SCENE MATRIMONY.

ON the wedding-night, after the raptures of enjoyment between Mr. and Madam Llwhyddwhudd were evaporated; when every heart-felt thrill and throb of desire subsided; each fine string of delight, which had been extatic stretched by imagination's apparatus, let down into a philosophic relaxation, the new married pair lay back to back. — The lady being most restless, was considering, whether it would, or would not, offend the rules of delicacy, if she was once again to turn to her husband.

Her spouse was then debating, since he had married so good a cook, and so notable a woman, about making his house a public one; which he did the winter following, and had great business, among the best people in the neighbourhood; his spouse being so obliging a landlady, occasioned the famous TRIPE AND TROTTER CLUB, to be instituted at Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd's.

THE TRIPE AND TROTTER CLUB, was the original of all the other Clubs now existing in this metropolis. — From thence came the famous Beef-stake Clubs, the Whist Clubs, the Ox-cheek Clubs, the Jockey Clubs, the Hornpipe Clubs, the Pea-soup Clubs, the Choice Spirit Clubs, the Spirituous Liquor Clubs, the Political Clubs, the Philosophical Clubs, the Roasting Clubs, the Punning Clubs, the Spouting Clubs, the Kept Misses Clubs, and the Club of Discontents.

David, as he began to get money, grew asthmatical and pot-bellied; not breathing so freely as he was won't to do, it frighten'd him; like the rest of the wealth accumulating part of mankind, he was terrified at the thoughts of dying, therefore sent for a physician immediately.

Reader, you must have known such persons, who, while they worked for their living, were useful members to society; but when, by chance or craft, they become masters of money, assumed a haughtiness of behaviour, abandoning themselves to a vitiated state of idleness, and gluttony. The event is, their being seized with a complication of infirmities, which, in their active and praise-worthy state, they felt not; they hurry to a doctor, give five guineas for advice, in hopes to have a worthless carcase sheathed from the worms; which, was it to continue on the earth for twenty years longer, would not be of five shillings use to any of its fellow creatures.

David, by his physician's order, was to return to his former trade; this he had entirely left off; his soul, as he said, being always rather above such an employment; but when health is concerned, when a life is to be saved by it— although a lady or gentleman may have ever so good a spirit, to be sure, upon such considerations, they must give way; according to Sir John Falstaff's aphorism,

Honour must be hid in necessity.

While Mr. David was putting himself once more into chair-carrying exercise, some soldiers were ordered to be quartered in his neighbourhood; and Corporal Knott brought a billet for himself, to Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd's

The Corporal was a gentleman remarkable for his gallantry; he had had as many fine woman as any general officer; he was form'd for intrigue, and graced with every accomplishment which could undo the fair.

He sung all the songs in the Beggars Opera, he could speak ten Tragedy love speeches, could dance a hornpipe, shew tricks with cards, balance a lady's fan upon his nose, no gentleman could fill a tea-pot more gracefully, or swear more often, or more agreeably: then he wore his hat so smartly bluff, and his hair was powdered so smooth, could he have been but as constant as he was lovely. Yet as no man is perfect, he affected to imitate his betters, and boast of his amours.

It is natural for one hero to take another for his pattern; he chose Alexander the Great for his; it was the Macedonians frailty to glory too much in his conquests; which Arrian could no more excuse in the son of Philip, than I can in Corporal Knott.

He, though admired by the fair, was disliked by his brother subalterns, especially the veterans, who, hagged by winter campaigns, their faces weather-worn, and scarified; did not like to see him look so plump, so pert, so smoothfaced, and wear his linnen so well ironed; when they, who had endured all the inclemency of every hard season, in the tented and untented fields of unhospitable Germany; who reflected, that, at the time they were thus fighting their country's battles, instead of wearing nice plaited linnen, had not any linnen to plait; and half a dozen brave British battallion boys, who scorned to turn their backs upon double the number of French fellows, though all beruffled and chitterlin'd, yet all their linnen, would not set up a tinder merchant.

They snarled at this beau Corporal; swearing he was not fit for any service, but just to make one in an officer's guard, at the Opera-house.

Often have I heard these non-commissioned heroes, as they have limped along—that defect in their gait proceeding, either from the wounds received in battle; or from the neglect of not being dressed after the fight; or from incurable contractions, or relaxations, the fatal effects of being exposed to the scorching heats, and sudden damps of Africa, and America; and to the severity of wintering in ill-provided quarters, on the banks of the Rhine, the Weeser, the Lippe, &c. &c. for which, perhaps, Flemish and Dutch commissaries, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I was present at the disputation, which old Winterness had with Corporal Knott on this subject; which, with the reader's leave, we'll insert — because, if it is not a story, it is a dialogue; and as it is a dialogue, it will be a means of displaying a copper-plate exhibition of an old warrior, and a junior fine gentleman; or, more properly, to explain the print; it is a contrast between the Charms of Peace in Mr. Knott's figure, and the Fortune of War in the old soldier's portrait.

At the valiant tooper the altercation happened; old Winterness was relating in the Corporal's company all the engagements he had been in; fighting all his battles o'er and o'er again, and marking with a stick, upon the sand of the ale-house kitchen, the marches and countermarches of our armies, dwelling with emphasis on the spot where he had received a shot, or lost a limb.—There, my boys, just there, where I put my foot now, there I stood on the left of the Scotch greys, and had these two cuts on my skull, and, as it mought be here, I had these three wounds; and supposing now these pieces of pipe to be our front line, as I was to the right of the royal, a musquet ball took me in flank, and went through both my thighs, and there Sir, as I was running after the French Pollavousees, I lost the use of my right eye; and, Sir, supposing this full-pot now to be Bocachica castle, there I stood while we were attacking it; and here it was, that I left my arm and leg at Cartagenah. — But what then — I don't think much at it, not I —I have gained honour and glory enough for an honest man—I know what it is to serve my country — and so here's his Majesty King George's health, and all his family, and Old England for ever—and as to my limbs, why they're welcome to um, as welcome as I am to this tobacco of my own buying.

This limb-losing conversation was foreign to the Corporal's thoughts; he had been bred up in polite and delicate principles, which was diametrically opposite to such gothic customs; although several people of birth lately, have been mad enough to relapse into their forefathers rusticity, and not mind the sun's spoiling their complexions, nor different climates having any
Page 36th
effect upon their constitutions; and have been as cool amidst batteries, broadsides, pitched battles, and forts storming, as if they were only dancing minuets at an assembly in England.— Yet the Corporal did not exceedingly relish such maiming honours; for, in his days, fighting for one's country was not made such a fashion among fine gentlemen, as it is at present; therefore he rejoiced, that a peace had been so expeditiously manufactured.

Yet he was ready, with a small sword, to give any private gentleman satisfaction—because that was fighting upon honour, which no person of honour could refuse—but fighting for one's country may be refused; because you may have—or—or—or—or—or—&c. &c. Knott, unwilling that Old Chelsea should win all the applause of the company, interrupted the scar-furrowed grenadier; observing, that a man might run as many risques, be in as many dangers at home, as abroad; and to prove it, related his intrigues with several fine women.

First, he recounted the hair breadth scapes to get Miss Neatsfoot, the tripe-man's daughter off —how he scaled the back garret, how he knocked down the watchman, and how the town was obliged to him for bringing so accomplished a girl upon it—thus the Corporal went on. — It was I that gave that girl the first idea of acting. I ust to tell her, how the first time she got into grand keeping, she must persuade her friend to speak to some of the managers, about letting her come upon the Stage; because I know that's common — ay, and it's grown a scheme too among several gentlemen about town, to get rid of their women that way; for when a girl grows stale upon their hands, and they want to part with her genteely, without being a settlement out of pocket by her; why then these gentlemen, will call on one or other of the managers, and so, in a sort of half-asking favourway, they will tell the proprietor, that there is a fine woman of their acquaintance, who they know will be of service in the Play-house; and taking the patentee by the hand, the'll say— come set the girl down in the list, pon honner I shall take it immensely kind, I know you won't refuse me, what's forty or fifty shillings a week out of your pocket; besides, I am sure she'll earn it. And this is the way that we have women of the town belonging to the Theatres.

Then, continued the Corporal, there was Bett Filbert, she was the best drest fruit girl about St. James's market—I beat the reforming rascals for her — no woman of quality, though she had ever so fine a silk stocking, and diamond shoe-buckle on, could show a neater leg and foot then Bett's was, with her silver clasps, red clocks, and pinned up petticoats; and as to an elegant and polite manner of doing things; who ever opened oysters with more affability then Bett? or made a hot-pot with more taste then she did?

Then there was Waste Butt, the publican's widow, I spent about five and forty pounds of her money, only she grew too fond; and when once a woman begins to behave so its fulsome, and what no man of true delicacy can bear; I was obliged, therefore, to leave her, and got cherry-cheeked Judy, that used to lisp at Buckingham-gate, can o'milk, Sir?—I was private then, my officer made me a corporal for her — I a'nt the first gentleman, I suppose, who has made his fortune by women, nor come to preferment, by giving up his mistress.

Winterness,

Who had sat chewing the cud of disappointment, to be cut off in the concatenation of all his glorious recitals, and by a smockfaced boy too, as he muttered to me; rose up, like Ajax, boiling with rage, and casting his eyes upon the Corporal, he burst out with,

Why then, Sir, I must tell you—that a man of honour, Sir — striking his fist at the same time against his waistcoat breast buttons, a man of honour, Sir, would as soon sell his king as his mistress. — A soldier, let me tell you, Sir, would as soon desert from his post, or run away from his colours, as give his girl up — I have been among the beauties in my time, Sir—but before I would surrender my woman to a general officer's summons, I'd be drummed out of the regiment for cowardice; and as to advancement, I have got Chelsea honestly — I never won preferment by pimping.

Corporal.

D'ye call me pimp, Sir?

This dispute would certainly have grown serious, had not the Editor of this work started up between them—whispered Knott, that he saw a fine girl pass by the sash window, and give the Corporal a beckon; away skipped Knott, and I begg'd old Winterness to be pacified; and that I would bring him half a pound of the best pigtail next sunday.

This pleased the veteran, he shook the Editor heartily by the hand, promised him never to mind any more fools for the future; swore, when he dyed he would leave me all his papers, if I would promise him to write the history of an old soldier.

It is necessary we should return to the other personages of our dramatical copper-plate history; and consider to what purpose Corporal Knott was introduced into this narration; with regret I record it, but Madam Llwhyddwhuydd, for all her resolutions, fell in love with him.

Sometimes a lady's vows, like French treaties, are not to be relied on—they are like hasty made acts of parliament, which the cunning of conv•niency can always find means to evade. —Besides, when love is in the case; nay, when money, for love and money are like a principle in mechanics, which acts equal and contrary. Love is equal in its power of action to money, but contrary in its effects; for as money will make persons blind to every thing, but their own interest; love will make persons see every thing, but their own interest. And with this mechanical, metaphysical, tritical, critical, and analytical disquisition, proper it is to finish this scene of the drama.

The CHOICE SPIRITS FARCE.

There is somewhat vastly significant, not only in the reputation of being a soldier, but also in a soldier's reputation; which made Madam Llwhyddwhuydd, as soon as ever the Corporal came with his billet to her house, regard him with an eye of complacency.

But when she heard what a number of women he had ruined, she could not take her eyes from him, not being able to imagine what he possessed so extraordinary, that made so many
Page 41.
ladies fall in love with him—and as we know curiosity has as sudden and violent effect upon the frame of a fine woman, as an hysteric; she determined to be satisfied.

The Corporal conceived a most violent inclination for her, from the moment he was convinced her husband was a monied man, and that she bore the purse.

He immediately opened his trenches with a love speech, made regular approaches, by squeezing her hand; planted his battery of ogles against her; and quickly found he had a friend in the garrison, which determined him to make one general assault, by a billet doux, that he resolved should be in the most elegant manner; and concluded to have a song wrote upon her.

He enquired among the Choice Spirits, who then held their meetings, like the primitive christians, by stealth, the reforming constables carrying on terrible prosecutions against them; he found them at the cat and bagpipe, in Rosemary-lane, after declaring, upon honour, he was no informer; and owning his business; he was inducted to the president, whom you see in the print, one George Alexander Stevens, and who was recommended to the Corporal as a song-writer.

Stevens received six-pence from him as earnest; for it was a rule, which the poets of that club had made, to always have half the money down; and the president declared he would write the song, as soon as ever the disputation was over, which the gentleman's entrance had put a stop to.

The argument was warmly supported by the two altercators, Stevens and Harry Howard the ass-man, concerning essential qualities. George insisted, the only acquisitions, which could constitute human happiness, were temperance, stability, and propriety of behaviour.—Harry, on the contrary, swore, that there were no accomplishments worth a man's while to be master of, except good breeding, and a good education. This dispute would have lasted much longer, had not a headborough opened the door, and producing a warrant against Harry Howard for scurrility, took away one side of the argument.

A sheriff's officer would have carried off the other, he came there with a thief-take's dog fearful of a rescue—but least the thread of our history should be snapped too soon, we shall turn over this cause and arrest, to the chapter entitled the art of bail-taking, or—the—by—London—and Westminster.

All gentlemen performers in the pen and ink way of song-making, must acknowledge it is extremely unlucky, when the lady's name, whose person they are to celebrate, won't make a proper rhime.

The number of pretty ballads which are sung every summer season, at all publick places of entertainment, would lose one part of their merit, were it not for the name jingle, which so aptly terminates every stanza; such as

- Kitty Downs

- And Zouns

- Miss Apple

- And Couple

- Polly Savage

- And Cabbage

- Love Miss Harriot

- And Judas Iscariot

What then could a song-maker do with Llwhyddwhuydd? had he not cunningly supplied that defect, by versifying her Creolian name Chloe; and fitted up so tasty a love-song for the Corporal, that Mr. Knott, taking the bard by the hand, swore, had he had any more money about him to signify, he would have made George a handsome present, over and above what he agreed with him for; however, the military man's spirit was so great, and he was so well pleased with the verses, that he slipped the remaining change of six-pence into the poet's hand, which was all Knott had, after paying for a tankard of porter, the entrance fee, which every body subscribed, according to the rules of the room, before they could be admitted honorary members.

The Editor of this undertaking cannot be so ingrateful, as to suffer such a noble action of the Corporal's to slip, without taking proper notice of it.

To the most Noble, most Worthy, most — &c. &c. &c.

Ye great men of many manors, who at this present writing can chuse your taverns, and pay a ready money reckoning for every dainty you call for; while I, twirling my mutton before an ill-supplied fire, am stretching the elasticity of my invention, to its utmost pitch, how to obtain, upon credit, one single beer and beer libation.—Oh, would ye but imitate this generous soldier's behaviour, and bestow upon the artists, you employ, a premium for their merit. But artists, perhaps, would think themselves happy, could they, instead of being paid overplus, only receive the prices they agreed for.

But laments are vain, the labourers of genius, and the lollers in a coach and six, are no more analogous, than politics and plain-dealing.

Honestly and bona side I speak; if they do call me names, I can't help it; but ⅝ of all the rich people in England, were it not for their money, would have no more sense, no more wit, no more taste, no more generosity, no more humanity, no more learning, no more affability, nor more of any more, mores, than we have, who are obliged to mind our books, to make the pot boil.

Yet writers, who pretend to satyrise rich folks, are to blame; nor should any pen and ink dealers call the expectants and dependants of wealthy men, who are known by the name of toad-eaters, to an account for their behaviour.

To be sure, the members of the toad-eating club will give his honour vast applause, if his honour says but any thing bordering upon common sense; and they will also lift up their hands and eyes, with theatrical astonishment, if her ladyship should make an observation pertinent to the subject, and extol the vastness of their patron's capacities. Now I cannot see any flattery in all this; for it is wonderful, considering rich peoples education. The ductility of their tutors, the venality of their menials, and the libertinisms they are indulged in; how they can ever say, think, or do any thing, to the purpose.

Heirs to great fortunes are born as well minded, very often, as the poorest tenant's child under them; but the understanding of the eldest hope of great families, is either totally neglected, or else cultivated in an improper manner.

The reason why men of genius are so seldom rewarded by men of fortune, is, because men of fortune don't understand genius; therefore rich people are more proper objects for pity than satire. It is the want of having their minds justly improved by arts and sciences, which makes them such strangers, to the happiness of knowing what to do with their time.

To be a man of fashion, they think, is the excellence of perfection; or they would not lavish such vast sums for the encouragement of grooms, gamblers, prostitutes and rare-shows; when so many works of public utility become abortive, and so many artists pine away for want of the hand of bounty, to bring them to life, for the service of their country.

Is it not a shame, that in so noble a nation as England, renowned throughout the world for arts and arms, the major part of those, who should set a better example, only exhaust themselves and their fortunes, in an eternal round of visits, cards, auctions, foreign fidlers, and ballad-singers.

As to ballad-singers and ballad-makers, the difference is trifling in regard of their merit; but the reward is not proportionable. This Stevens, to my knowledge, has wrote upwards of 200 songs, yet never was so well paid for any; nay, for all the rest, as for that one he made the Corporal.

The POET'S BILL.

Received as earnest for making a love song upon Madam Chloe, to consist of four verses

0

0

6

Paid the remainder of my demand as soon as I had finished my work

0

0

6

Received overplus, or by way of premium

0

0

3

Sum total for Poetry

0

1

3

All the rest of this man's songs, I am certain (the weight of paper excepted) would not now sell for so much money.

For the entertainment of the curious, we insert the verses that Mr. Knott bespoke, printed from the author's original copy.

And as this song comprehends all that has been, or can be comprehended, in the composition of love-song-writing, according to the method at present of the public garden poets; the Editor presumes, this may serve as a pattern, or measure, for all future amorous stanza makers, to cut out their works by, who intend to write for the amusements of the summer parties, that swarm from Ranelagh Rotunda, to the New Tunbridge.

A New SONG.

Call'd CHLOE LLWHYDDWHUYDD. An lambic, Sapphic and Lyric,

by G. A. Stevens.

Embellished with Notes, by H. Howard, Esq Author and Etcher in Ordinary.

STROPHE I.

DOWN the Parnassian heights I soar,

Upon Pegasus' back my fancy I bore.

Bright Phoebus, with Apollo here, attend,

Be all ye Muses nine the poet's friend,

A Poet, as I'll show ye;

From France to Philadelphia's climes,

No haberdasherer of rhimes,

Can boast a Toast like Chloe.

Notes on the first Verse.

Soar and Bore.

Some people say; those two lines are rather false grammar, and it should be, that Pegasus bore; but I say, whatever bad grammer they may be, they are good rhimes; and as Mr. Skeggs and Mr. Massy both observed, that is the most materialest thing in a song; because there are very few singers now-a-days, who will let you know whether they sing sense or nonsense, So for that reason I never troubled my head with what I published in that respect.

H. H.

Phoebus and Apollo.

Phoebus signifies the sun, according to the dictionary; and Apollo is said to be the God of physic and poetry. So a person said last night, that was the reason why rhime-writings were generally called drugs; and also, why a great deal of poetry was used in physical operations.

Philadelphia.

That word was put in, because the lady was born in the West Indies.

STANZA I.

She is not—yes, she is compleat,

Her alablaster, iv'ry teeth so neat;

Her eyes like starry suns all hearts illume,

And Zephyrus whistling sighs, her lips perfume;

Where is her marrow know ye?

Her cheeks are cochineel'd; her breasts

Are Cupid's kettle-drums, and love's birds nests,

That Venus builds for Chloe.

NOTES to the second Verse.

She is not.

The word not is a pun upon Corporal Knott's name. Your critics, that know no better, will call out about false spelling; but I never mind that, I can write songs for all them, or that either.

Alablaster and Ivory.

These words are two similes, to describe whitnesses, and clearnesses.

Like Starry Suns.

Poets may do what they will with nature, make stars suns, and suns stars; because we have the poetica licentious for it.

Her Marrow.

That is a Yorkshire word, and signifies an equal; or a person upon the same footing as yourself; introducing such obsolete words, gives the poem a true pastoral turn; and as it is intended to be sung in an evening in the music loft, among the lamps and trees, it ought to have some out of town allusions in it.

Her Cheeks Cochineel'd.

One of the best lines, the thought is mine, but it's wrong spelt, it should be scutchineel'd; because scutchineel is a better red than vermilion, and takes its name from the herald painters, first using it in painting scutcheons.

The simile of scutchineel also signifies, that as those insects are never used but after their death, so her cheeks would not lose her colour until after she is dead.

Cupid's Kettle-drums.

That's a double ontender, and love's birds-nests another; and without such things, a song won't fell. I told the author, I would etch him a head-piece to this song about the bird's nest; because, what sells so well as smutty pictures now; especially with a dash of politics in them, and politics is easy brought in any how—truly Mr. George said, he would not offend decency; then people are damnably deceived in you, thought I; but, as I told him, why George, says I, is there not a great many tradesmen, freemen of the city of London, men well to pass, and masters of families, who are not ashamed, to have their sash-windows filled with bawdy, blackguard prints; and why should you then trouble your head about it? I'll answer, we could get money by it, and as long as a man can but do that, and not go to Newgate, why it does not signify what he does; and as to decency, I despise it; for I have always got a good living (thank God) without it. However, George woud'nt consent, so I set him down obstinate.

STROPHE encore.

Tempests I'll tear up by the root,

Earthquakes I'll undermine to boot;

With the galaxy of the milky way,

Upon Jove's threshold I'll at marbles play,

And stake my fair so showy;

I'll dare the synagogue of gods,

And play or pay, I'll lay the odds,

That nothing ne'er beats Chloe.

NOTES to the third Verse.

Tear up Tempests by the Root.

This is a figure in poety, signifying, that the earth shall pull her hair about her ears, in a passion. Trees are often said to be, in song-writing, the locks of hair of the world's head.

To BOOT.

There's a fine word for a pun, and fine punc have been made about it, and now I don't care who knows it, but I have done more of those pieces of wit, than any one else; they were all afraid; but I was like a true gamester, I went nothing to something. I knew I cou'dn't be worse; and if they did take me up, I was sure to be a great man, as long as I lived; because I should have suffered martyrdom, for my wit and humour.

Galaxy.

There is no such a word, at least not that I know off. I askt the author, and he told me, it was the mosaic pavement of Jupiter and Juno's gallery; but I was not to be hummed so; for what business has Moses with Heathen Deities; not that I know any thing about religion; I would as soon make a song about Moses, as I did about Zebra; if I could get as much money by it.

The Synagogue of Gods.

This signifies something about parsin Whitfield, and his tabernacle-people, but what, the author won't tell me.

Play or Pay, lay the odds, Nothing never beats Chloe.

This is the true verbatum language, used by sporting men, at all the meetings in England, Scotland, and Ireland.

STANZA encore.

When time's sharp scythe mows down my breath,

Shall I not in my quick expiring death,

In tinkling rills her murmuring whispers hear,

While she, like eccho sobbing, sighs, my dear,

Oh Corporal where go ye;

Revived; I'll rush into her arms,

And ravish all her curling charms,

And charm my charming Chloe.

NOTES to the fourth Verse.

Times Scythe mowing down his Breath,

Is a fine metaphor; and to be met with, or something to the same purpose, in almost all the love songs for many years past.

Eccho sobbing.

Because eccho, Mr. Littleton in his dictionary says, she sighed herself into a consumption.

Charm my charming Chloe.

That I will venture to say, is one of the most charming lines that I, or Shakespear, ever made. There was, as I have heard say, a critic once, a learned man, his name was Villager, or Scalisher, or some such a foreign phrase; and he said, that there was one of Horace's songs, which he had rather been the author of, than been a king without a rag on.—This is, as I ve heard the story—and now I say, I did'nt care, if I could but have wrote that line, and charm my charming Chloe, if I was to be reduced to my former state, and have nothing but rags on.

SCENE, the OVERTHROW.

Home hasted the Corporal with the copy of verses, and gave them the lady wrapped up, as he received them from the author. She hurried into her own room with the pacquet, imagining it was some very pretty present; but when it was unwafered, and it appeared to be only a paper filled with written hand, which she could not read one syllable, Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd suffered the most cruel agitation of spirits, that ever any lady was thrown into; who, by the sudden whim of spouse or papa, was prevented from being punctual to the moment of assignation.

She supposed the letter to be an appointment, the Corporal gone to the rendevouz, and had left her that, as a direction where to follow him. How did she then lament her not being book-learned; she fretted, sighed, stamped, called on her stars, on the Corporal, and fate.

The maid, passing by the door, heard the outcry, run down to Mr. Knott, beckoning him into the back kitchen, asked him what he had done to her mistress; for that, as how her mistress was in the most wonderful consternation, about the Corporal, and what he had wrote in a paper.

Knott, who had been, Bajazet like, enjoying, though but in fancy, his scheme, and what an opinion his landlady must have of him, and how fine a fellow she must think him; to be able to write so fine a song, was struck as flat, with what the girl said to him, as a new actor just hissed.

It occured to him, on the instant that the verse-maker had hummed him; and, instead of the song he had paid for, had palmed some other paper, on purpose to make the lover look like a fool; and Knott muttered, damm these wits, they are always full of mischief, especially against their best friends; however, I'll break the rascal's bones.

Unluckily for some parties, George, the ballad-compiler, then was passing along on the other side of the way, the military man had a view of him, and through the entry Knott burst into the street after the scribbler.

Passion or anger will as effectually dazzle persons eyes as interest. Mr. Knott, by rage, was so dim-sighted, that, as he sprung from the threshold, he saw not a sedan, which David and his partner were bearing by with a fair in it.

Against its side rushed the Corporal, and down came the chair, shattering upon the pavement. The glasses were smashed, the sash frames shivered; and the soldier tumbling over the top of it, rowled into the channel, calling out, as he lay, oh, Stevens, I•ll do for you.

George Alexander, hearing a threatning voice, imagining it to be a bailiff's, started off, fast as fear could wing his feet; and (like an expeditious fine porter, running to his duty) overset every one who stood in his way.

The first person, who fell a victim to the velocity of the poet's fears, was Well-fleet Betty, standing on the upper step of a cook's cellar, with a basket full of goods upon her head; one hand was rested upon her hip, her elbow forming the point of an angle, and with the fingers and thumb of the other hand, she was snapping defiance.

The bard took her in flank, rushing against her outstanding elbow; the sudden shock turned her half round, and backwards she pitched into the cellar, just as Theo. Cibber's propertyman was bringing up twelve-pennyworth of soup and ox-cheek bouilli, for his master comedian's dinner.

Down soused Betsy's head into the dish, and her feet fell on each side of the young man's head, upon his shoulders; her weight returned him into the cellar; and the broken baking pan, the ox-cheek, the soup, and the oysters, covered the floor.

Onward scampered George, overturning Haddock's waiter, who had a box full of jellies in his hands; then the song scribbler met parrellel to his breast a mop-handle, which a wench was twirling; his force flung it in a diagonal direction down; but the mop hit in its way the silkstockin'd shins of a French dancing-master the blow brought Monsieur Capriole to the ground, he pitched upon his face, and his nose was flattened against the pavement.

The perpetrator of this mischief began to be scant of breath; and turning his head, as he ran, to see where his pursuers were, he threw down a salop stall.

The vender of that diet drink, had just served a dish to no less a chapman, than the little poet DERRICK, the doer of Dryden's works, who, not thinking of any thing, was very innocently cooling his sassafras, when the gross bodied bard, like a collier, running foul of a pleasure boat, tumbled the small sized versifier into the dirt.

The bulk of Mr. Derrick's muff, prevented him from being bruised; but the blade of his pinch-beck hilted rapier, snapped in the scabbard, and the spray of the salop, obliged the little gentleman to keep his bed, until the scowerer had repaired the damage his laced coat and waistcoat had sustained.

Here the race ended; the author of all these ills, tumbling at the same time, was seized by the woman, to pay for what was broke, spoiled and spilt.

It is impossible to say, what might have been the event of George's being detained, since he always was inflicted, with that terrible malady, of non sum solvendum; but Mr. MACKLIN the the actor came by, paid the cost, and took Stevens home, promoting him to be his tutor.

The putter together of Love Alamode, being at that time of day in the bloom of his youth,
Page 57th.
not above thirty-four years of age, took to his learning prodigiously; and, in less than a week, was able to make out every letter of the alphabet.

The COUCH SCENE.

The person who happened to be in the chair, when it was overturned, was the very drole SAM. FOOT, Esq the greatest mimic genius in England; who, after much shrieking and struggling, rose head and shoulders high, betwixt the broken frame of the chair-glass; his face all scratched, like a fresh blooded ghost, ascending through the tragedy trap; on his countenance pallid fear sat frightful; his livid lips quivered with terror; he begged help for God's sake, and religiously reiterated his intreaties to the bystanders.

He had not, at this time, exhibited publickly any of his extraordinaries; neither was he as yet determined, to what part of the arts and sciences he should devote himself.

It was to this adventure, and the advice of Miss Shred, that the town has had the happiness of being entertained with his Vis Oeuvres.

After he was delivered from the chair, and inducted into Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd's best one pair of stairs room. Miss Shred, who saw from her chamber the accident, ran over to David's house, fearful, they had not politeness enough, to accomodate so brilliant dressed a person, as Mr. Foot.

Miss Shred insisted, upon carrying up the bason of water, and towel, to the gentleman. Mr. Foot received her with all that complaisance, peculiar to himself; and assured her, both in French and English, that he was immensely obliged to her.

Miss SHRED.

Sir, a person of your appearance demands the most polite reception; and, as I am conscious, the people of this house, are too vulgar to use such a person, as you are, as you should be; therefore I left my own house, that I might pay a proper regard to one of your elegant appearance.

Mr. FOOT.

Madam, you do me too much honour; to be sure ma'am, I conceive the inhabitants of this porter-selling territory, to be the quintessence of vulgarity. My Ideas never before announced such a contemptible set of reptiles, as those creatures were, who helped me out of the chair: one should not, they say, mock one's friends; but upon my soul, they were such a collection of grotesques, that while they were doing me a great piece of service, I could not help taking them off; and the fellow who seemed to have the most humanity about him, and was really very tender of me, squinted his compassion with two such inverted eyes, saying—I hope your honour cant hurt, Sir.

Miss SHRED.

I vow, Sir, that look was vastly like him; but I am surprised, Sir, a gentleman of your accomplishments, should seem to hesitate, about taking off your friends; it is the extreme wit of the politest persons; and which, Sir, you must know, and if you was not to do it, Sir, it would be a loss to the world; for you know, Sir, each individual admires to have an acquaintance, nay, all their acquaintance, made ridiculous; and I am persuaded, no person, can be more happy in that execution, than yourself.

Mr. FOOT.

Madam, I am embarrassed at this rencontre, with a lady of your consummate penetration; indeed, madam, I have been flattered by my friends, with having an excellency, in taking off my intimates; and shall be proud, of a lady of your sensations, determining, concerning the merit of my abilities.

Immediately he went through the defects, misfortunes, and weaknesses, of all his acquaintance with immense spirit; he took off Sir Harry's lady, as she said her prayers at church; mimicked her brother the judge, in his passing sentence of death; shook his head as my lord's uncle did, who was paralytic from his infancy; walked limping like Sir William, who lost part of his heel in a sea-engagement; and then in the character of punch, preached a funeral sermon, with such vivacity, such humour, and such naivetie, that Miss Shred became transported, backwards she fell in raptures upon the couch, crying out bravo, bravo, bravo, my dear creature —

SCENE III.

Miss SHRED and SAM. FOOT.

Curtain up again.

Miss SHRED.

UPON my honour, Sammy, you have reduced me to the most extraordinary circumstances, of not being able to look at a genleman without blushing; and, believe me, Sir, I never was guilty of such an action before; but, as Richard says, for this among the rest was I ordained.

Mr. FOOT.

Madam, it is impossible for me to express, how high an idea I entertain of a lady, possessed of such a capability, as I find you mistress of, therefore I can do no less, than dedicate myself to your service.

Miss SHRED.

I accept your homage, dear Foot, and I give you my hand, which acts equal with my heart; and as I know your talents, are as extrordinary, as you are pleased to observe my capabilities are surprising, I will plan, and you shall execute, as I am conscious my conceptions are perfectly picturesque.

This it was, on which Mr. Foot laid the foundation of that grandeur, we have several times seen him so amazingly arrive at. To Miss Shred he was obliged, for the hint of giving tea; by her he also was initiated into that species of wit and humour, with which, to this day, he continues, with so much originality, to entertain the town.

During this above-stairs conversation, David was busied, in picking up his chair's fragments; the Corporal was upon foot pursuing the author; but the soldier met his officer at the turn of a street, who ordered him immediately to get ready, and set out next morning for Cornwall.

Knott, though he was alarmed at the command, knew his duty was to be silent, and obey.—But took his resolutions accordingly; as he had been hitherto successful in his schemes, with the fair sex, and that his time was so short, he went upon the hunt, for two of his comrades he could confide in.

This was the reason, that Madam Llwhyddwhydd did not see her lover all that day; although its certain, no lady ever more longed, that is, she wanted to be satisfied, and no person, she was sure, or at least she thought herself sure, and that fancy with many ladies, amounts to a certainty, that no body could satisfy her, so well, as the Corporal.

The damaged chair was sent to be repaired; Mr. Foot and his lady took coach for a country jaunt. David, having nothing else to execise himself with, resolved to walk into Wapping, to see his brother on board of ship.

His spouse, who knew her husband would not be at home, until four or five in the morning, began to be vastly uneasy about the Corporal, who made it evening before he returned.

The guests withdrawn, the maid hurried to bed; just as the feeble watchman, whistling in his sound, came by coughing out, pa-a-aast 11 o'clock—Mr. Knott, high in blood, stole (like Lothario) unheeded to his dear Llwhyddwhuydd's chamber, he found the lady loose, unattired, warm,—I ashamed to say it—but fuddled, absolutely non compos; how it happened, as well as so melancholy an accident can bear relating, shall be disclosed.

That night the lady went up stairs, in charming spirits. Mr. Knott having received the wink of assignation, while he sat below, drinking with his comrades. But alass, unhappy gentlewoman, reflecting perhaps too much, on what might very naturally happen, between her, and the Corporal; she grew immoderately thirsty, in poetry we should express it, she was burning with desire.

By mistake she put a bottle of brandy to her mouth, which had, in the hurry, been put uncorked where the water-bottle used to stand. It was there placed by the maid, the mistress's sudden coming up, prevented the girl from any other ways disposing it.

Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd's agitation of mind, rendered her incapable of judging the difference, until she had swallowed so large a gulph; intoxication was the consequence. By which the reader is deprived of one of those luscious descriptions, which are now looked upon in the novel way, the most essential embellishments for modern bookselling.

Yet not to have our customers entirely disappointed, we present them with the lady asleep, in one of those engaging attitudes, so enticing,
Page 63.
to the very young, and very old gentlemen of this metropolis, who want to see pretty legs, pretty feet, pretty breasts, and all must be very pretty.

Masters under age, are supposed to have raw and indigested ideas; not being arrived at a proper taste.

Elderly lovers have out-lived their's, therefore both must be alike fed, and their strengthless appetites, tempted by insubstantial garnish; not having power to relish manly food.

Mr. Knott, knowing by the orders he had received from the captain, there was no time to spare, took some pains to waken the lady; and having recovered her so well, as to acknowledge she loved no man like the Corporal, he discovered to her how he was pinched for time; the lady, fearing to lose her so very lately gained lover; the force of liquor, and power of the Corporal's arguments, altogether corresponding, made her consent that very night to go off with him. The maid fast asleep in the garret, the drawer dead drunk in the cellar, and her husband from home. She packed up all the plate, ready money, and her best cloaths; for that is an observation I have generally made, that ladies, who, by stealth, leave their husbands, are determined that the loss shall be as severely felt, as the time they have to accomplish their scheme will admit.

It was by the help of Mr. Knott's comrades, every article was brought safe to the Fly; in which the Corporal and his lady were conveyed, without one accident to Portsmouth; there the next morning, by the greatest good luck, they found a sloop going off for Plymouth, in which they embarked, and in four days landed there, then by easy journeys reached Cornwal; to which the Corporal's rout was directed.

Since we have conducted Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd so far, we'll let her rest a little after her journey, and take a trip to London, to inquire what became of her husband.

The DREAMING SCENE.

David returned home the next morning about two hours after his unfaithful lady's elopement; but too much filled with his evening's excess, to admit of any information, until snoring had evaporated some of those fumes—but the physical account of SNORING, which was never before attempted, is proper to introduce here.

To the Sapientifical, Scientifical, Celestial Magazine-maker, self-taught Philosopher, Lecturer and Instrument-seller.

To the Venerable Antigallicanist and Balsam of Life vender.

To the most celebrated, most advertised, most graduated Ludgate-hill Licentiate.

And last, though not least in character, To the Egregious, consummate Doctor of all Doctoribuses, the Eccentrical, Occulistical, most superlative Egotist, Adventurer, and Chevalier, this Elaborate Essay is addressed.

SNORING arises from the superabundancy of vapour, collected the preceding night, by drink and conversation, treasured up in the store-house, or magazine of the head.

The spirit of the liquor sublimates through the valves, and ducts, from the stomach: and the froth, or Aerial parts of disputes, observations, altercations and witticisms, make their way, thro' the auricular glands or organs, at the same time, into the cellulae of the brain. These puff-balls, thus collected, float about, until secretion (I beg, my friends of the faculty, you'll observe this) although it is out of the power of the College to account for animal secretion; ergo, all physick is upon undetermined principles. Yet I have assigned a ratio for the secretory officinal of dreams, which are these puff-balls; composed as before-mentioned; and lodged in the tenements of the pineal glands; just as infant maggots are housed.

But when all the pia and dura mater apartments are filled, and not a single idea, even for the good of self, can be wedged in, there will remain great quantities of this windy effluvia, which the owner of the head has imbibed in the last day and night's exercise, which must be discharged, charged, before the proper disposed imaginations can have room to act.

Therefore on a sudden, fast issue through those wind-gates the nostrils, the overplus of yesterday's retailings, which can't be performed, before sleep has, for some hours, set his draining engines at work; and that is the reason, why morning dreams are more to be relied upon, than those before midnight. The violence with which this stream rushes forth, from the head, is the occasion of that sound, which is equal to the diameter of the diapason of—but the solution of that question, concerning the mathematical proportion of major and minor semi-tones, betwixt snoring and other eructations, is sent for a prize answer to the Lady's Diary, to which we refer the reader.

After David had slept about five hours, loud and sound, the elastic coats of his brain began to exert their pulsations, and he dreamed a dream which forboded mischief, as plain as any dream, ever repeated at breakfast, by the politest, prettiest, and most sensible maid, wife, widow or mistress, you enjoyed a morning's tête a tête with, or at least, that you said you did.

David did dream, as how, that the Tower of London was made of papier machée; and that the French intended to undermine all our coalpits, and so destroy the nursery of our seamen.

Out of the seven or eight millions of Great Britain's inhabitants, one million we may reasonably suppose will read this book; and that 900,000 of those readers, delight in the interpretation of dreams; for their emolument, we shall explain this dream, viz. The Tower of London, being made of chewed paper, signified, that the affection of his wife, which he thought permanent, as the bulwarks which the mud and grass of tower ditch semicirculates; was as insubstantial, as the incoherent ornaments of waste paper: and the French, and the coal-pits meant, that a wicked enemy, should undermine the navigation to his wife's heart.

At noon, next day, David waked, and with broad eyes found,—but by all rules of writing, an author, as well as a painter, is to allow his customers imagination, fair play, or game law; therefore this part of the scene shall be left to the reader's conception. How Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd looked; where he looked; what he said, when he could speak; and how long it was, before he returned to a capability of saying, or seeing, or doing any thing.

Suppose yourself, oh sympathizing reader, in this afflicted husband's situation; it is with some confusion, that the Editor acknowledges himself, rather abrupt in pretending to place any buyer, or borrower of this volume, upon the footing of a chairman. All that we mean by begging the question, is; most reverend, most honourable, or most handsome, Sir, or Madam, a possibility for what we call the finest person in England, when angry, to behave equal with the lowest. To prove which, I shall make an extract from a book, called,

The History of the human Mind.

The three estates, or different modes of the Soul's constitution, are denominated high-life, middle-life, and low-life.

Those degrees, when put into a passion, act upon the same parallel; and as you may have seen Mr. Bayes's sun, moon, and earth, dancing the hay; so it is with these; highlife shall be middle, middle shall be low, low high, and they sometimes dance so much, and so long, that there is no distiction to be observed between them.

But this only happens, in very rare cases' viz. in love, in anger, and in drunkenness.

Furthermore, it is said in this Book, chap. 20, page 99. I wish, may it please your honour, that you would either look a little more into it, or suffer your eldest son, to be a little better acquainted with it; and I would bett a good name against great riches, and that's ten pounds to a crown, you know; that if those personages, who can read it, would study it, not thumb and dog's ear a drole place or two; but go fairly, and honestly through it; they would be taught, to think worse of themselves, than they do at present; and thereby become better for the future.

There would every egotist discover, ‘That his consequence was but conceit, and judgment merely opinion. That FLATTERY is the universal language. KNAVERY mankind's modus. Conversation quibbling. PUBLIC SPIRIT a riddle. FRIENSHIP a phantom; and SELF-INTEREST, grand signior.’

‘Good-breeding may be contaminated; and greatness put in an extreme fury, for such trifling things, as an honest chairman, would be ashamed to be out of temper about.’

‘And when the most polite are most angrily agitated, they may, and do often, swear, huff, kick, curse, strike, abuse, break, and bellow, with such violence, as if they were no more than a chairman; or any other such illiberal beings. And I beg leave to observe, (for all what the heralds office alledge to the contrary) even her grace, although delicately dignified, may be horridly chagrin'd, if she permits passion to gallop over the course with her.’

The unfortunate Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd, presently swore himself out of breath, in hurrying backwards, and forwards, throughout the neighbourhood, to tell his sad story. Vowed many rash vows, and said many bad things. When his friends found his anger, was obliged, for want of fresh spirits, to subside; and he was sufficiently relaxed, to hear consolation, they administered advice gratis. As all English people ought to do, one among another; the generality of my countrymen and women, are apt enough to bestow their counsels, even unasked, in all cases,—none but physicians and lawyers making money of their words.

They sell their advice, as Lapland witches do wind, only to make more mischief.

His partner, begged him to be comforted; squeezing Mr. Llwhyddwhydd by the brawny part of his thumb; my dear David, don't hurt yourself any more, by grief. I don't doubt, but all will be well as ever; and your spouse shall come home again; and there will be no harm done; and you will live hapyy, to the end of your days; and you must take example by your betters, and forget, and forgive, as the Bible says.

This speech, gave David great cause of contemplation; and after he was in bed that night, thus he soliloquised.

In the name of God, and St. David, can I ever, in honour, have my wife home again? Am I not an ancient Briton? Where then must I put my honour? Is not my honour, the seat of my heart? and has she not given away her honour? and would she come home, and take away my honour too? now that damm dog of a soger, has laid hold of her honour for himself,—more shame for him; that any of King George's men should not have honour of their own.

Not being able to sleep, he went to his library; and looking over the index of his magazines, among those curious receptacles of the atoms of universal learning, he found the following essay, concerning

HONOUR.

There is no KINGDOM, STATE, PRINCIPALITY, PENINSULA, CONTINENT, ISTHMUS[*], METROPOLIS, CITY, SUBURBS, or ENVIRONS, in or out of Christendom, possesses so much honour as the town of London,

Nor by the root of St. David's leek (Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd called out) no man in London has more honour than myself.

To prove that London is the plenum of honour, what man or woman can you meet with, that will not declare themselves to be people of honour? who can you converse with, that will not assure you, upon their honour?

The Turks, cannot be such civilised persons, as christians. Therefore have no idea of honour; and are strangers to duelling; that custom of killing, is only practised where the gospel is taught.

However, the mahometans have great honesty, in respect of their meum and tuum dealings. But that method of merchandizing, is no more than an absolute sentiment, which might do well enough for the moral law, but the statutes, and practices of the European courts, being by revealed religion more enlightened; such infidels as Turks and heathens, by not having the advantages we christians have, can never act so upright as we do.

Laws, honour, equity, and honesty, being refined, are to be considered—but we refer the reader, for a proper explication of those matters, to our notes, upon the Athanasian creed.

In Italy, Spain, and Portugal, the natives are extremely tenacious of their honour; as they are also of their religion; the two most noble practices of the soul.

They are persons of superior honour, and religion, to the rest of Christendom; which accounts, why so many people are poisoned, assassinated, and put into the inquisition, in those countries, more than any others. It is all done, as that very pains-taking Mr. Henriques observes, to GLORIFY GOD, and for their own honour.

The French, are not much bigotted to matrimonial honour; but they have very romantic ideas of glory, and imagine, that glory is preferable to limbs, health, life, and even the profits of a 25 per cent. usury.

Nay, so prone are our English people, to follow French fashions, that we have adopted this mode; and such is the common characteristic of our country, to improve upon every invention, that a great many of our Britons have carried this glory much farther than ever the French dared; they had a very fair trial for it lately; and, in spite of pol•tical jockeyship; and though we were obliged sometimes to shift saddles, and sometimes we could not go as we would; yet we always came in for the sweep-stakes.

This was not satisfactory to Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd; he did not understand any thing about glory; all his care was about his honour, and not meeting with an explanatory account, in any of his volumes, he arose next morning, to consult an old acquaintance, and country woman of his, and one of the wisest people ever born; for she was descended in a direct line, from the child, that Queen Sheba had by King Solomon. Though she could not prove herself of one of the most ancient families; yet, for the greatness of her understanding, the defect of birth was overlooked; and she was made overseer of the weeders, to a Welch gardener's at Lambeth.

During the time of Mr. David's walking to Mr. Winifred ap Shingle, and to make an end of this scene of our drama, give me leave, by way of tag, to tell you an old story about honour.

I do not doubt, but you may have read it in every jest book; I own the story is old, — yet, like a true commentator, I quote the ancient things, to exhibit the antiquity of my reading.

MAGRAH MONAGHAN of Connaught, dined one day, with TERENCF O HARA, in the queen's county; Monaghan was every inch of him a gentleman, and scorned to do a dirty thing. But as necessity, and honour, are ever at see-saw, with all gentlemen of no fortunes, it happened at that instant, Need was uppermost, and gave an impelling, or propelling, quality to some of Mr. Magrah's muscles.

Astronomers are not yet clear enough in their accounts, for us to ascertain which it was, of the occult qualities, innate to bodies, that occasioned a silver spoon, before grace after meat was said, to gravitate into Mr. Magrah Monaghan's pocket. The thing was missed, and his host (very mildly) taking his guest aside, whispered him.

My dear Mac, will you be telling me any thing of the spoon?

MAC.

Is it me you mean? the Devil burn me into tinder ashes, Terence, if I know no more of the spoon, than St. Patrick.

TERENCE.

Well, but don't you, at all, at all?

MAC.

Why, then, by the contents of this — (catching up the mustard pot) I don't. Would you be thinking, I'd be telling you a LYE?

TERENCE.

But, upon YOUR HONOUR, don't you?

MAC.

MY HONOUR!—By Jasus, there's (taking the spoon from his pocket) the vagabond spoon again; and I'll tell you one thing, Terence, and that an't two; I wouldn't forfeit my honour, for all the spoons in the whole country of Christendom.

Notes

*
We have endeavoured at the true magazine stile; it may seem tautalogous, but our readers must know the necessity, those monthly productions lay under, to make use of many words; they, like stage coaches, being obliged to set out to their time, full, or empty.
↵

ACT II.

SCENE IV:

Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd and Winifred ap Shingle.

DAVID Llwhyddwhuydd went over Westminster-bridge, to consult Madam Winifred ap Shingle.

After the proper ceremonials were adjusted, of who should set down first, what sort of a day it was, and every other polite phrase, which is used among the most delicate, as an introduction to more interesting conversation. David acquainted Winifred with his misfortune, and with his partner's saying, he should have his wife home again; and how, continued Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd, can I do that with honour? for I do assure you, Winifred, that man is not worthy to carry a pair of straps upon his shoulders, who is not a man of honour. For a chairman, when his honour is gone, is no more than a hackney-coachman, or a waggoner, or any other of those horse-driving rascals. — How then can I receive my wife again?—oh, Winifred, you don't know what a fine creature she was.—To be sure her neck was as white, as a damask napkin—and the best people in the neighbourhood, did use to send to by her pickles,—and her cheeks were as red, indeed as my new scarlet breeches,—and such a hand — ay, and for a pancake, Winifred, look you—well, God bless her Majesty, and all the ladies of honour, but they could not toss one better, to be sure. — Damm Ochee, I will be the death of that damn'd dog, corporal scoundrel.—It was love-powder, which he did give her; and he shall be taken up, for poisoning my wife, as sure as Sir Watkins is a gentleman.

WINIFRED.

You come to me for advice, David, look you, indeed, and do speak all yourself—but you shall hear now in God's name,—upon which she put her band before his mouth, and bawled in his ear,—you must take your wife again.

He started from the chair, his shoulders striking against Mrs. Shingle's chin, cast her backwards into a washing-tub, where she lay head and knees bent together; her legs hanging over the edge, while he, regardless of his countrywoman's condition, swore a horrid oath, with as much solemnity, as ever the finest gentleman gave himself to the devil, at a hazard-table; but stamping at that moment on poor Winifred's cat Grimalkin fixed her teeth and claws so furious in his leg, that he shrieked, he run about the room, he cried murder, over the tub he tumbled, regardless where he was, or what became of wi•e, Winifred, or all the world, but himself.

So true is what was said by the first philosopher before the flood, and has been annually observed by all Philosophers, Play-writers, Annotators, and Essayists, that It is natural for our own sufferings to overbalance all other considerations.

The same SCENE continued.

David and Winifred seated as at first.

WINIFRED.

Look you, David, be quiet, I tell you; you did not hurt me much; what I have put to your leg will cure it; so drink up your porter, and I will fetch another quart.

Exit.

Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd, when she was gone, began to be in doubt, whether he should, or should not, pull off the piece of black-sticking plaister, that the dame had applied to his leg, for the bite. He wasn't sure, it was the Courtsticking-plaister; because, as he was a chairman, who had been brought up at St. James's, he would not have any thing, as he told her, touch him, made at any of the vulgars houses in her neighbourhood; because, as he was a gentleman born, and got his living among quality, therefore he would sooner, he said, have his leg swell to the bone, than any low-lifed medicine should come near his flesh.

Imitating herein, that nobleness of spirits, which all those most respectable—but I am interrupted.

Enter second quart of porter, and Mrs. Shingle.

WINIFRED SWINGLE.

Now, David, I will have you be easy, hear reason, and not fly into any more passions; nor don't swear against your wife, for, to be sure, a finer woman —

DAVID.

Never was a finer woman, to be sure.—So is my loss the more; I shall love her to my dying day; but she has robbed me, and run away herself into the bargain; and where is her honour now?

WINIFRED.

Don't you talk so much about honour now; I desire, and require of you, for if you would be a good christian, you must forget, and forgive; for what, pray, doth the Scripture say about honour?—not much; and pray what do the people of honour say about the Scripture? why not much. So you need not so much mind honour, if you will but be a good christian.

DAVID.

But then the Devil shall be a good christian for me — God forgive us—but how can I, ap Shingle, how can I bear to lye by her side now; pray, will there be any christanity in that?

WINIFRED.

Silence, I tell you, David. You shall hear what I will read to you; it is our teacher's sermon, which he did say at the Tabernacle last Sunday, about forgiveness, and christianity, and women, and our backslidings; so pray, David, mind.

Reads, Putting on her spectacles.

The JUSTIFYING EJACULATION.

I say unto you, my beloved, that when the spirit agitateth the flesh, it is a spiritual act; but when the flesh motioneth the spirit, it is a carnal one. And this is the difference, between GRACE and DISGRACE.

For worldly things, unless sanctification seeths them, are no more than kitchen stuff; which the scum of our sins maketh, in boiling over, and that is put into the offal pot of repentance.

Therefore, the saints of the Tabernacle, being clarified by the justification of the new birth, are pure Christian suet; which, when mixed with the plumbs of the righteous, make up the pudding of glorification.

Winifred Speaks.

O sweet Abraham, what heavenly language is this: don't go to sleep, David, I desire of you; how can you be worse than a heathen, and not listen to this sweet soul-saving speech.

Reads again,

The pudding of glorification—therefore I say, that we may mingle the spirit with the flesh, even as potatoes and butter-milk make stirrabout; for that is the type of the carnalities, and spiritualities.

So I say [wiping her spectacles,] it is not sinful to consider the uprightness of the flesh, as directed by the spirit; because we may receive the spirit at home, or in the fields, or in an alley, or in a centry-box; and I'll stand centry among you; and if you have faith, you shall raise the dead to life. I won't be a velvet-mouth'd preacher, like your church doctors, and book learned blockheads. —no—no—no—oh—oh,—can a boy fly a kite without thinking of the clouds? can a woman spread her fan, without thinking of an angel's wings? Therefore, I say, that the natural man is not the spiritual man. Yet the spiritual man may think of natural things. So those things are to be put forward, which are to satisfy the longings of the soul; and tho' at first it may be painful to undergo them.

At that instant, the tankard from the hand of Mr. David, fell to the ground; the good man, overcome with the two quarts of porter, the keeping all night awake, reflecting upon his honour, and the potency of the preacher's arguments, dropped fast asleep. Which, when Mrs. Winifred observed, she sighed, and said he was a lost soul, waked him; and after some time spent between them, in settling the terms, she went home with David, to be his housekeeper.

SCENE PLYMOUTH.

Madam Llwhyddwhuydd, Corporal Knott, Mountebank Doctor, Duel, Merry Andrew, Cheating at Cards, and News-papers.

THE Corporal, by this time, and his lady, began to view one another in not that rapturous point of sight, as at first. All the plate, and ready money, which she had taken with her, was expended; for Mr. Knott, had too much of the fine gentleman in him, not to be fond of play; and too good an opinion of himself, to fancy any person could take him in; but after the money was all gone, his eyes were opened, and he determined to commence gambler himself.

At his quarters lodged a Mountebank and his man. The Merry Andrew was a master of arts in sporting; he could bend, slip, shade, spur, feather-edge, work a brief, knew shorts and longs, the high and low games at put, the three shuffles of whist, upper and under palm, opening a pack, or rounding dice, with all the secures, the bars, loads, ringing of changes, &c. &c. &c.

But he, having then an occasion for a partner, because he wanted to take his master in for a sum; and as all sporting men act best by confederacy, the Corporal and Pickle Herring entered into a family compact.

Mean while poor Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd daily sat disconsolate at home, never seeing her gallant, but when he reel'd to bed, incapable of behaving to her like a gentleman.

I wish, some ladies of my acquaintance, with whom it is at this moment a toss up, between inclination and interest, would read this part of my book carefully; and they would know, notwithstanding, modern memoirs mention whispering Zephyrs, eternal constancy, love-lane assignations, breath-stopped kisses, midnight moon-shine, a charming fellow, and the post chaise door open,—that according to the undoubted testimonials of several maiden gentle-women, who, by heart-felt experience, vow, a lady is worse cooped up, who goes off with her gallant, than the most domestic wife, that undergoes the drudgery of the nursery, and kitchen.

Let us only example Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd. She had no person to visit her, was visited by no person, obliged, from having a house of her own, to put up with a mean, ready furnished lodging; in which, sitting all day solitary,—for believe me, dear ladie, the fine fellow of your fancy, soon grows sick of his sweatmeats, and every fond couple, who leave honour, family and ALL for love, having then nothing but love to live upon, soon eat up their allowance.

Think ladies, what Mr. David's wife suffered; who, like all other eloping ladies, had trusted the gallant with all, and dreaded to ask him for a single shilling, lest he should think her extravagant; denying herself necessaries, because he should not grumble at expence How melancholy her case; no companions, but her own thoughts, reflecting and comparing past, with present times; her former respect, her present infamy,—her husband's tenderness, his repeated tenderness; her gallant's coldness, his continued indifference.

It is not, I hope, so bad with every lovely lady errantress. Yet many of them have experienced,—don't sigh, dear creatures;—I know its a melancholy scene, and in the catastrophe still more vexatious; because the reason which some ladies alledge, for running away from their guardians or parents, is, the unbearable usage, which they receive at home, therefore apply to gallants, in hopes of mending their condition, as flying fish spring out of the sea to avoid the Dolphin, and tumble into the jaws of the shark.

Yet as the most time-serving-scribbler subscribes himself, at the bottom of a dedication, to his right honourable patron; as the tradesman bows, bill in hand, to his honour, with parallel awe, I address the ladies, and assure them, that my opinion of their magnanimity, will not suffer me to imagine, any thing here said, can alter what a fine woman has already resolved upon.—No—spite of all advice or example, her spirits will carry her through, whatever her will gives the word for, let the consequence be—no matter what.

David's spouse had, for some time, been in a most uncomfortable state. She felt the severe pinches of necessity, which are evident symptoms of repentance; daily, hourly did she reproach herself, how ill she had used her dear, dear husband; how ill her gallant had used her; not a friend had she to confide in, except the Merry Andrew above-mentioned; to him she now and then disclosed her griefs; he proffered her all the assistance in his power; vowed he had a vast regard for her, and sealed those vows, upon her lips; just at the instant, the Corporal opened the door.

All in rage, Mr. Knott rushed on the tumbler, kicked him down stairs; b—d his lady, and vowed never again to bed her.

Indeed Mr. Knott was glad of an occasion to break off the acquaintance; for he found it very heavy, supporting her out of his pay; and beside, he had commenced another intrigue, with a lady who kept a raffle, who had agreed to go off with him.

The tumbler, all in a rage, for being used so by the Corporal; went instantly to his master, and discovered, that the night before, himself and the Corporal had cheated the doctor at cards, of fifteen pounds, four shillings; and told his master, that his conscience would not let him keep it.

No one thing can hurt a lady, or gentleman, or any other two legged existent, if there are any other persons, in this kingdom, that are not either gentlemen or ladies, except some of the Opera Singers.—I say, and am sure, nothing can hurt so much, as being made a fool, or a tool, unless self-interest orders it so to be.—then, indeed, as A—B—C—D—E—and—&c. observed, it is proper to appear in taste.

But to be a tool, and be out of pocket by it,—Seneca, at the head of his stoical regiment of Old Buffs, could not bear it.

And as the doctor, like all other doctors, wore a sword (which, I believe, the faculty at first bore emblematically, to denote an aptitude to kill) after a consultation, with his Merry Andrew, he determined upon having his money, and sent Mr. Knott the following letter.

SIR,

I Ham by my purfeshon, as will as you, a gentleman; because, as your a soger, so am I a doctur of fysick. I did not think ani gentleman wode ave taken away mi moni clandestenly, that is rank burgularly, and wors then robbing upon the hi way.

However, Sir, I suppose your a gentleman, for all that; so I desir, you'l gi me satissfakshon, and send me my moni agin, or mete me with your sword at nine o'clock to nite, in the ditch by the cloisters, it will be moon-light, and we can see to kill one another.

Yours, Doctor JONES.

The Corporal received this note, as he sat over a large bowl of punch, with two recruits just listed. He was as brave, as British spirits could make him; and reading the letter, swore 'twas very well, he'd come; he would do every thing like a gentleman, and give every body satisfaction—but as to returning, or paying the money back, he was above it.—No, he was too much a man of honour, he swore, to be compelled, no, the sword should decide it.

All flush, all gallant was Mr. Knott, the drum beating, recruits singing, and bumpers going briskly about.—Yet the contents of the letter, began like oil, to prevent the potency of the brandy punch, any longer sublimating into the Corporal's head.

Not that he feared the doctor, or even death, the president and commander in chief of all doctors; but his honour was doubly concerned; he promised to meet a lady, a new lady, that night; and he would not break that appointment, for twenty doctors; but then, who would dare to say, Knott wou'd'nt fight? No body should; he swore, and in order to keep his word and honour, with both parties, he laid his plan of operations accordingly.

The doctor, who was equally political, (in what a political age do we now live!) made this appointment by moon-light, because his antagonist should not discover, that he had a quire of white paper for a breast-plate, fastened neatly under his shirt.

Each combatant, firmed in his safeguard scheme, went with the utmost intrepidity to the combat. Nobly, magnanimously they met. So when—no—come, all ye spirits, who have inspired the belligerant powers, to firm fighting; and thou, whoever thou art, whether begot by Folly, or Madness, or both; thou AETHERNAL, who presides over duels, suitable-spirit for such a subject, inspire me, to describe the memorable behaviour, of those truly paired bellonists, who so intrepidly paraded upon the supposed-to-be-sanguinary-spot; and then, so woundless,—so—so—so.—So have I seen — ay, reader, and so may you also have seen, as well as me, a great many things; but among all the shews, did you ever observe a slit deal figure, set up, on the top of a malt-house tunnel, or, as a scare-scrow in a garden, holding in each hand a wooden sword; which, by the contrivance of the carpenter, and force of the wind, whirl'd its arms about, above, and below, across, around, slashing, striking, flourishing, in every prize-fighting direction, ingratefully thrashing that air, which puts it in motion.

Thus is a duellist agitated, by honour, which is no more than air; a puff, a wind, a vapour.—Mistake not the editor's meaning—he is only writing concerning the term honour, which urges, planet struck people, to take the unnecessary trouble of cutting one another's throats, when, as the madman observed, let but your enemies alone, and they'll dye of themselves.

But duellists, like Jobson at blindman's buff, lay about them, slap, dash, north, east, west, south, on every point of the compass, because this honour answers to all points, all make a point of honour.

It was one of honour's points, the money-getting point, which goaded the doctor to this honourable experiment, and which the Editor, would not have been so explicit in, had he not taken the trouble of visiting tennis courts, billiard-rooms, horse-race meetings, whist-clubs, skettle-grounds, hazard-tables, and nine hole alleys; and been assured from all parties there, that the doctor was right (in point of honour) to demand his money; and the Corporal was right (in point of honour) to refuse returning it.

The place appointed for their meeting, was a very wide, dry trench, high mounded on each side, and open at each end, like that part of New Market turf, called the devil's ditch, and where, for the name sake, all hereafter duels should be decided.

They came to the, spot, just as the clock struck nine, they drew their swords, and stood in quart and tierce attitudes, between four and five yards asunder.

They flourished their blades, on which the moon shine bright beaming, the glare startled the heroes.

As veracity is the Editor's principle observance, throughout this treatise, it is necessary, to relate how two such men could be brought to the scene of action, and draw their swords at each other.

The doctor was assured by his tumbler, that if he did but send a challenge, it would bring the Corporal to any terms, and he had nothing to do, but only go to the appointment, draw his sword, and Knott would return the money.

After (by his man's advice) the letter was sent, the mountebank began to have some qualms—he doubted, he was dismayed, and as Mr. John Wesley, and Mr. John Wesley's coadjutors, have often declared, that Satan buffetted them about; even so was the doctor's tho•ghts tossed, here and there, and not knowing what to make of himself, he resolved to bumper it about until fighting time, to drive off even the idea of death.

Not that he way any stranger to that spectre; having employed him in as many shapes, as the doctor had patients; but he wanted not that fiend, to have any concerns with himself; therefore he drank to fortify his mind, and wore a stationary breast-plate, to barricade his noble parts.

The Corporal marched to the rendesvouz, with a certainty of success.—First from his own consequence, that the quack scoundrel dare not fight him; next, let it even come to the worst, and he should be obliged to draw his sword,—Mr. Knott had planned such a scheme,—and entirely by the scale, sector, and true modern practise of duelling, which is, to acquire the vast, vast honour, of being a fighting man, and duellist, without running any dangerous risque.

The Corporal's plot was, to wait for his antagonist, to make the first thurst, then to fall backwards immediately, and bid the doctor make the best of his way off, because that he himself was a dead man, the doctor having done for him.

Both thus secure in their safe-guards, stood firm—but at the distance before-mentioned; indeed it is proper, all quarrelling people should so keep asunder; their right arms were extended, sword point-paralled to sword point.

At last, the doctor being by drink, the most elevated, quavered out, ha, ha, and stamped his foot at the same time; but the unfaithful sod, sinking to his tread, brought his body forwards; destroyed the centre of gravity, and prone on his face he fell, without stretched arm and weapon.

The Corporal observed the glittering steel advance, backwards at that signal fell down, and with a great groan cried out—O I am done for—it's through and through me.—Doctor I forgive you—but make the best of your way off—for—oh—I am a dead man.

Terrified at these words, his antagonist reflecting on what it was to kill a man, and not according to the secundum artem statute; crawled backwards on his hands and knees, crab like, out of the opposite end of the ditch. Leaving his sword (as he supposed) sticking in the Corporal's body; as soon as he got upon his feet, he scamper'd off, strait forwards, not minding which road he took, all he thought of, at that time was, the hue and cry, which he fancied he heard very plainly behind him.

The Corporal, rising by degrees, was soon satisfied of the success of his scheme, and picking up the duplicate sword, hastened to his other rendesvouz, and there he shewed his new lady the weapon, which he had brought away with him; telling Madam Raffle, ‘I was obliged to kick that scoundrel mountebank, my dear, and make him deliver up his sword, here it is you see, for his insolence, to pretend to dare to hint any thing against your reputation.’

In the beginning of every intrigue, fond beauty fancies all is gospel, which her gallant speaks.—Knott's new mistress replied, ‘That to be sure, I knowed as how, Mr. Corporal, you was a vastly brave man; and we will live and dy, and I'll go through the world with you.’—But the catastrophe of their loves hereafter.

We have now got rid of a pair of lovers, as dextrously as any play wright, who after cunningly bringing them together, gives the prompter a cue—wheu—wheu whistles Mr. Pimperlimpimp, the word giver, and the brace of woers are intersected from the audience, by the canvas landscape, or size painted street scene; and the rest of the comedy goes on as usual.

When our last express came away, the mountebank was on foot, terribly racing it along, panting and trembling,—the conclusion of his helter skelter flight we shall now relate under the Anti-comic title, of

The ORIGINALITY of GHOSTS; AND ANATOMY of PHANTOMS.

RONDOCOSTO KAMBE DANESSO, in his defence of praeter-naturals, sub-naturals, and non-naturals, very wisely tells us, that there are some very famous, and what is more, very great, and what is more, very rich people, who are undetermined whether ghosts are apparitions, or apparitions ghosts; whether death-watches, dreams, night-mares, witchcraft, falling-stars, screech-owls and religion, have, or have not reality. To them the following exhibitory is recommended.

It is requested by the putter together of these lusitoriae, that all those maxims, which relate to the analysis, solution, and dissection of phantoms, will be carefully studied, by out of pensioned patriots; fourth and fifth cousins to quality, by all dependants upon great mens generosity, or any man's gratitude.

* * * * * * * *

Who is it will disinterestedly pilot a genius, to the Cape of Good Hope?—I,—I,—I—I, will,—we all will,—every body will,—and body will take him on board, and be glad to sail with him; for all the world will be fond of his company; who denys it? but pray, Sir, when the vessel comes to port, who will help him out of the ship? who will pay the captain for his passage?

However diverting, during the voyage this drole fellow may have been, and whatever applauses he may receive with invitations to every one's mess, while on board, as soon as anchor is dropped, all is forgot. Every one then is hurrying home about their own business, adieu Mr. Genius—your servant, Mr. Genius—here Tom put these things behind the post-chaise; we are obliged to you for your good company, Mr. Genius, sorry can't stay with you any longer—go on boy—a very diverting creature that man was, my lord—yes, answers the man of title; these wits and droles are very well for a gentleman to be entertained with, now and then at taverns, or on shipboard; but they should not be taken any notice of publickly—for they are always poor—know nothing of the world, and are rather impertinent.

The deserted genius, penniless, and a stranger, is left upon the beach, to make the best of his way, where he can.

We'll suppose him arrived in London, there he must either prostitute his talents, in vindication of villany, or condescend to be Folly's Auditor, Pride's Flatterer, Pimp, Informer, or Beggar.

Merit in this metropolis having been condemned to perish in the streets, without benefit of clergy, had not Adulation persuaded Preferment to hire the whole distressed family ostentatiously; and now they are employed, by his Honour, as hay-makers, harvest folks, hedgers, stable-sweepers, errand-boys and turnspits.

By this hyperbolical stile, the reader will observe, Hope and Promise are included in the dissertation upon Phantoms.

This will be illustrated in the continuance of the quack's history, who we left upon foot, nor have we yet brought him to a stand-still. Fright made him miss his way, it was midnight before he reached the gates of his inn; they were barred, and every candle out in the neighbourhood.

Pleased to think all was so quiet, he resolved to creep up the back way into the yard, get his money and cloaths out of his room, before daylight, and secrete himself among the miners.

Up a broken butterice, belonging to the garden, he scrambled, and got astride the wall; just as Tom the tapster opened the garden-door, in his breeches, shirt and slippers.

The moon brightly shining at the mountebank's back, made a long black shadow upon the grass-plat; which, moving before the servant's eyes, stopped him from stepping forward; his knees knocked together, his teeth chattered, his feet he drew softly out of the slippers, and and sidling barefooted, he slunk into a dark arbour at his left hand.

The medicine-monger was not a whit less terrified, at seeing a human figure in white; for the moon gave him full view of the tapster. A cross the wall he sat aghast; he thrice attempted to say some prayers, but had none to say. He muttered the only religious sentiment, which he knew, viz. grace after meat; saying, Lord make me thankful for what I have received—this over and over he repeated, holding himself on the wall by the help of his hands, as a sailor fixes his fists upon the saddle pommel.

The doctor was confident he saw the Corporal's ghost; almost petrified with apprehension, he sat there, and there would have sat until morning, had not the stronger fear, least the ghost should be creeping along the side of the wall, to seize him, forced him from his place; and heaving himself up by his hands, he straddling, throwed himself along the wall, on the ridge of the bricks, with his eyes all the time fixed on that spot, from whence the ghost had vanished.

He reached the top of an old cow-house, and rolling himself upon it, his weight broke the boards, and betwixt two rafters he sell, jammed midway; his weight forced him down, his bulk prevented his whole body to fall through; there he was wedged fast by the waistband, and fancying all hell held him, he shrieked, roared, kicked, flung his arms about, and tumbled the loosened rotten planks over and over.

The poor drawer, hearing the dreadful outcries, ecchoed his shrieks, with shrieks more shrill, and run up the yard, calling out help, murder, fire, help, help.

The noise wakened every one in the inn except the landlord. Each started up terrified at the exclamation, confusion, and affright seized them; from first, second floors, and garrets; from down, feather, and flocks, all came, hurry scurry, like mob from the twelve-penny gallery.—Back to her own bed, Betty the chambermaid slipped, to put some things on, leaving her gallant, a London rider, shaking in a fear-raised argue fit.

The hostess scudded from the serjeant of grenadiers, her eldest daughter, slipped out of the commanding officer's apartment, her youngest, down barefooted was brought trembling, upon the boot-catcher's back. All the rest of the good company half dressed, assembled round the tapster, who told them, there was a spirit playing the devil in the old cow-house.

By the tempting promise of two guineas, the three ostlers and a stage-coachman were persuaded to go armed with pitchforks, to find out this ghost, and the company, the female part, all went together, to get the rest of their cloaths on; and the gentlemen the same; agreeing to meet in the large dining room to hear farther particulars. And Sir Greenfin Calipash, was to be seated in the grand chair, to take the examination.

While the guests were getting ready, all big with expectation, like the polite audiences in Cock-lane; a new noise alarmed them, an outcry, which was within the house, proceeding from the landlord, who having been put to bed very drunk, was by the continuation of the various noises waked; and parched with thirst, bawled out loud as asses bray — some oat-ale, a tankard of oat-ale, and be—to ye.

After the tapster and mountebank were brought up stairs, all the company in the house (the host excepted) crowded into the room—all stood together promiscuous; postilions, baronets, ostlers, ladies, boot-catchers, squires, chambermaids, great heiresses, cook-maids, &c. &c. For fear and self-preservation, absorb all distinction in such terrible times of danger, excepting that just then a lady, even of the most delicate principles, would prefer a porter to a pretty fellow for her partner.

Sir CALIPASH in the Chair.

The drawer deposed he saw the ghost, and described it to be a black one.

The poisoner of parishes gave in his evidence that it was a white one.

Dr. SINECURE, the learned professor and connoisseur, begged leave to be heard upon that subject, concerning the seeming contradiction of deposition, in respect of the colour of the ghost. And then he coughed, and then he hemmed, and then thus went on. I am conscious, my most intelligent auditors, that I can clear this contradiction much to the satisfaction of the polite part of the assembly, I have now the honour to speak before—because—cough and hem again—I say, because ladies and gentlemen, I have not only considered the nature of ghosts philosophically; but by every rule of prespective, as far as is relative to the vanishing.—Have I, Sir Greenfin, your permission to proceed? bowing low as he addressed the president, the president as low down bowing in return.

Upon which the professor of universal connoisseurship in arts and sciences, looking about him with much consequence, coughed, hemmed, spit, wiped his mouth, smoothed his foretop, spread his stock, pulled his ruffles, and began.

Every ghost, every ghost, and every apparition, and every apparition as well as every ghost possesses in its own nature, two sides or contrasuperficies; which are denominated philosophically an opaque side and a lucid one—cough —now the two witnesses being, as it were, fixed or placed at opposite angles, saw the opposite sides of the ghost—for instance, the drawer who saw it a black ghost, had his rays of light absorbed, by refrangibility of reflection, while the other had a view of the ghost, in his illuminated state arising from refraction; because the radiancy of the rays, striking upon the retina, and this pellucidity of shade, is called by the painters, the CLEAR OBSCURE—cough, &c.

Thus therefore I form my hypothesis—coughs —Suppose my left thumb to be A, my left little finger B, all my left hand C,—Hem—hem—now therefore, I say, A plus, B; B minus, C, because every person being capable of seeing a dark or a light, that is an opaque, or a lucid superficies, or side belonging to my finger and thumb, not only according as I form it into an inclined plain, then the shades and lights fly off in tangents of obtuse angles, or if that the object refracted is diametrically opposite in a horizontal parallel to the optic nerve; thus it was, one saw the apparition in a black or nigriferous point of sight, and the other beheld it as a light, or illuminated appearance.—Cough, hem and spit.

Had I, my most ineffable auditors, had I my books and instruments here, I might perhaps have demonstrated this more clearly.

Sir Tim. Dowgate replied, it was clear indeed, and he apprehended every syllable on't—vastly clear indeed, lady Dowgate answered; the doctor's a most amazing man of science, and I am positive has more true learning than all Doctors Commons.—Indeed lady Hadit observed, nothing could have been delivered more clearly, and she understood every word on't. So do I, so do I, its immensely clear, vastly so replied all the polite heap, and agreed, that as a scholar, an artist, an orator, and connoisseur, Dr. Sinecure was quite the thing, and they were sure on't.

The under-bred part of the assembly, allowed him to be a most wonderful man; and every one, gentle and simple, joined in praising loudly his late lecture, and great learning; and they agreed he had made it out so well, that they all understood it.

The doctor condescended to incline his head in a direction, between a bow and a nod, with the utmost pedagogick consequence.

Then Sir Green fin Calipash stood up, and tucking his neckcloth ends under his garnet breast buckle, he begged leave to observe, that as he had always made the good of this nation his study, and would venture to say, that he knew both Old and New England's political constitution, as well as any one man in it. Yet he could not say, although he apprehended every thing doctor Sinecure had said; yet he could not say he understood the meaning of these affairs about black and white ghosts; because, though he believed in ghosts as much as any christian could; yet why sholud ghosts be black or white either? why might they not as well be of any other colours?

Dr. SINECURE.

Black and white are no colours. Black is an absorbment, white an aggregate—hem—ghosts cannot be of any colour—ergo—hem, hem, hem.

Sir GREENFIN.

So then I suppose you would persuade me, by that inuendo of ghosts not being of any colour, that they can't be of any party, but I know better. I know that ghosts are as liable to be in the French interest, as they are to be of ours; and that this may be a political stroke, either of our foreign or domestick enemies—may not the thief-takers and ghosts have a fellow-feeling.

Lady HADIT. Screaming out a laugh.

A fellow see—e—eling—oh, Sir Calipash, what an idea!—can ghosts feel?

Enter Landlord in shirt and napkin night-cap.

Lady Hadit was the first who viewed him, and her ladyship gave a loud shriek, sprung upon on the window-seat, and wrapped herself in the window-curtains.

Every one in the room, by this time, had a glance of the figure in white; all run helter skelter, oversetting benches, tables, chairs, stools, burrowing like rabbits underneath them, and hitting their heads against one another, striving to hide themselves.

Between Sir Greenfin's legs crept the landlady, which overset the knight upon Sir Timothy Dowgate; who was hiding himself under his wife's petticoats, lady Dowgate's head and shoulder, buried at the same time beneath a card table.

Every person rowling topsy turvy one upon another, the furniture cracking—Dr. Sinecure, the chimney board being thrown down, had made there to cover, and Tom tapster, and cook maid Nan, took to the same hiding-place.

The reader may recollect, that at the alarm of the ghosts, the inn-keeper waking, parched with thurst, bawled out for some oat ale; not any being brought, he determined to fetch some himself; and as it was the middle of summer, and he very hot, would not stay to put any cloaths on, but out of bed, hurried down, and seeing a light in the large one pair of stairs room, opened the door; and occasioned the aforesaid confusion, wond'ring, he stood, and called out, I only want Tom tapster—Oh Christ, cries Nanny, who stood with Tom in the chimney corner—a great groan came from doctor Sinecure, who was mounting by Tom's help, he began to work with his elbows to pull himself into the chimney.

Where is Tom tapster? again the land lord called out—O Lord, again, shrieks out Nanny, and was running from him, although her old sweetheart, and twice asked in church; the waiter seizing her by her gown skirts, begged her for God's sake not to leave him; the doctor was by this time standing upon the tapster's shoulders, striving still to mount higher. Let go my gown, for God's sake Tom; thus Nanny began pitiously to request her trembling lover; if you have any love for me, Tom, get away, least the Devil fly away with us both.

LANDLORD.

Where is tapster Tom?

NANNY COOK.

Here, here, Sir, and please your honour Mr. Devil, he's in the chimney place, squire; but dear, good gentleman, my lord Devil, I hope your honour won't take me along with him, for all he holds me fast, good Mr. Devil, don't for God's sake. Go Tom, go, go, now don't you hear how his worship calls you?

The landlord began to be terrified—the word Devil being so often mentioned, had an effect upon his spirits, and he turned his head about to see where he could run to.

When lady Hadit, who had been at bopeep behind her window-curtain, imagined she could be certain, the figure in white must be flesh and blood—more earnestly looking, she vowed she could take her oath to its being a man; courageously left her pedestal and advancing, demanded, who are you?

LANDLORD.

Me, Madam, please your ladyship, the landlord, my name's Jordan.

LANDLADY from under Sir Greenfin.

It's the Devil in my husband's shape, my lady, oh don't go near him.

LANDLORD.

The Devil I believe has been in your shape several years, I am sure—but I am the landlord, roy lady.

Lady HADIT.

Sir, I take for granted, that you are flesh and blood, and not a spirit; but if you are Satan, or Beelzebub, or any other of those subterranean geniusses, which the vulgar world call the Devil; I presume you are too polite to behave indelicately to persons of quality.

LANDLORD.

Indeed my lady, I'm no more a devil, than any other christian body whatever, and I only want a little oat-ale, and that made me call Tom tapster.

Coming, Sir, bawls the waiter, and down souse on his posteriors squashes Dr. Sinecure upon the hearth, and his teeth were loosened by the fall, for he stood upon Tom's shoulders, who bolted out in an instant; but over eager as he stooped to get out of the chimney, he beat his master down with his head.

The sidelong attitude in which the landlord lay across one of the benches, made lady Hadit burst into a violent laugh; for it was, as her ladyship said, such a sight—this mirth, and the preceding conversation, dispelled the good company's fears; they raised themselves by degrees, or else were helped up. Tom and landlord went down, and the rest retired to their separate apartments.

The landlady waited upon lady Hadit, and would have made an apology for her husband's rudeness in standing naked before her.

LADY HADIT.

Not at all Mrs. Jordan, I beg you'll not mention it, pon my honour it was excessively drole —I dote upon such things.

Mrs. JORDAN.

Your ladyship's vastly good, to be sure.

Lady HADIT.

But my dear creature, Jordan, had you seer him fall down—my God—I though I should have expired—such a sight.

Mrs. JORDAN.

A wretched sight, to be sure, your ladyship—but then, I am obliged to put up with it. However, I am vastly glad, that as how, after my brute of a creature had been so mischiefous, as one may say—I am happy that he could divert your ladyship. So I wish your Ladyship good night.

Exit.

Lady HADIT.

Good night Mrs. Jordan—divert me;— my God! what wretches there are in this world

Sleeps.

Interlude between the ACTS, CALLED, The MISTERY REVEALED.
This is to satisfy all the Curiosi in England, Scotland and Ireland, concerning the Spiriting away of Miss Canning.
And also of the Cock-Lane, Miss Fanny's Spirit.

THESE were phenomena of such vast consequence to the public, that all the people in London, interested themselves strongly either on one side, or the other. The cause of these transactions must have remained a secret, had it not been for this publication; which is authenticated beyond doubt, or even beyond contradiction, for my brother has made his affidavit about it, and gave me his papers; and from those papers, for the satisfaction of the town and country, and in my brother's own words too, I shall insert it, as he swore to its veracity before the worshipful the whole bench of justices.

The Journal of M. TRIP.

I William Trip, mate of the Concord transport, captain Robert Farding, of Lynn Regis, master, do declare, that as we were coming from Lisbon, June 7, 1759; it happened to be my watch upon deck, I saw a bean cod overset in our ship's wake, just as we were coming out of the Tagus.

We having not taking in our boat, I got down abaft, cast off the painter, and skulled away, to pick up a person I saw floating, and brought him on board our vessel.

The gentleman whom I got out of the water happened to be a Roman Catholic parson, one whom they call in their lingo a Jesuit, and who had got out of Portugal by stealth.

He was very ill while he was on board us, and I tended him. So one day, as we lay off the Wight, he sent to speak with me; and when I came, he desired me to sit down by him, and hear someting he had to say to me.

Upon which, that I might be, as one may say, yard arm and yard arm, with him, I got a coil of rope, clapt it aloft my sea chest, brought it along side his hammock, so I set down on it, and our heads were then on the same latitude together.

So then he began (reaching out his hand on the starboard side) says he, my good friend—you have been so civil to me, that I have no way to return your kindness, but by making you a present of this book of receipts, and telling you a piece of secret history, that you may make money of it, if you have a mind to print it.

You must know, Mr. Trip, that our society, for many years, found our interest declining both in France and Portugal; and therefore our superiors thought of re-establishing themselves in England.

Several missionaries that were sent from Rome to England, assured us in their letters, that the English people would believe any thing, that the system or fashion of the minds of the generality, of both the high and low life multitude turned upon an axis, whose points were CONCEIT, and CREDULITY.

The success which the methodists, and their doctrines met with, encouraged us greatly; nay our society received several letters from their most eminent preachers in your island; and they told us, our mission would be received, provided we joined them; and that upon particular pecuniary concessions on our side, they would unite with us. Because they assured us, they must and would be of infinite service to our society, since they knew so well how to work upon the multitude.

Before we would consent to sign any articles with them, we resolved, from experiment, to discover how far we could venture to impose upon the people of England.

I was dispatched upon that mission, and to prevent suspicion, or the least inquiry of what I was, I made interest to be engaged, as one of the subaltern players, belonging to the Theatre in London, only to do trifling parts; and when I was once seen upon the Stage in that capacity, it was impossible any person could suspect I was good for any thing.

A brother of our order followed me with fresh instructions; but as his part required he should be introduced at all hours, and in all places, to the very best company; he assumed the character of an Italian fiddler, tooth cleaner and designer; and when we have met to compare notes in an evening, he has made me smile, to hear him relate how every door used to fly open at his approach; and he would gossip for two hours with very great personages, while the anti-chamber would be full of colonels and commodores, waiting for an audience.

The earthquake was of my projecting, so was the bottle-conjurer, it was me who wrote the prophecy for the person called the life-guardman; but in reality he was porter to the Fanciscans at Padua.

He, as you may remember, foretold the return of the earthquake would happen such a day, and Bloomsbury-fields, and Bloomsburysquare, was filled with coaches; and whole families crammed in them, who there set all night, not daring to trust themselves in their own houses. I smiled when I saw them thus huddled together; but was amazed to see many of your preachers hurrying out of town, as if they were panick struck with the dread of leaving this world—when they are certain, there is one so infinitely preferable, and in which, by the doctrines they profess, they must be eternally happy.

Are they, thought I, only like physicians, who administer medicines for the good of mankind, (as they say) yet have no faith in their own prescriptions.

One afternoon, by chance, I met with Elizabeth Canning; she had lost six-pence, was crying about, dared not to go home, she said—I observed her, she had the most stupid look, yet on conversing with her, I discovered she possessed cunning and obstinacy.

By the promise of making up her loss, a new topknot, and the temptation of riding in a hackney-coach, I prevailed upon her to go with me, and when she was perfect in her part, I exhibited her, as you must remember; this scheme answered, to prove English peoples aptness to embrace, or take part with incoherencies.

Rejoiced I was, when the gentleman, who endeavoured to detect the imposture, met with such opposition by his example. I was sure other magistrates would be deterred from making any other strict and impartial enquires—for indeed Mr. Trip (thus the Jesuit went on) though your nation is one of the best in the world, yet at present, folly and prejudice have spread themselves so pestilentially among all ranks and denominations; that any person, who now would en deavour to benefit his country from a praiseworthy principle of integrity—So great is the defection throughout all degrees—so epidemic the contagion of self-interest; the patriot would be hooted at for a madman, reviled as a pretender, or punished with contempt, and if possible with beggary.

Preferment makes the English nation behave, just as the children of Israel did, when the manna fell among them, they snatch up all they can, overload themselves often— no matter, by this method, less is left for their neighbours.

After this affair was over, I was sent for back to Rome upon special affairs, relative to our society; but I left a brother of our order full instructions how to proceed, and the plan for a project, that, as soon as he recovered, he was to put in execution; it was the COCK-LANE PHANTOM, or what was then called Miss Fanney's Spirit.

This was our most favourite scheme, this was our corner stone; we therefore employed more—I suppose he would have said skill, but our ship, at that moment, by the wind shifting, took such a lust, that her lee-ruff-tree dipped in the water, and the Jesuit was canted overboard out of his hammock, pitched his head upon the trunnion of a four pounder, and never spoke another word.

I was overset, but I soon righted; but as for my companion, death clapped a stopper upon his tongue, as quick as one could crack a biscuit.

And this is the truth, and the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, as witness my hand.

WILLIAM TRIP, Mariner.

In the analytical destination of the incorporalities of ghosts, wrote originally in Runic, translated by SAXO GRAMMATICUS into the German, there is one page, which, for the benefit of all true believers, I have taken the trouble to render into English, viz.

There are three distinct or separate species, or classes of ghosts and apparitions.

The first is the miser's spectre; this phantom invariably appeareth loaded with chains, to tell where money hath long been hid; and it cometh as a skeleton, because it is supposed to starve itself to death, ergo, it cannot have any flesh upon its bones.

The second is the winding-sheet ghost, or torch-holding-immateriality; which is a lovesick maiden, that glideth along the midnight dew, to undraw the feet curtains of her forsworn swain, and bidding him bethink him of former affairs, of plighted troth and ruin'd maidenheads. She cometh in a white sheet, to do pennance for being so foolish as to break her heart, hang, drown, or poison herself for love and constancy.

The third and last is the hobgobblin, or raw head and bloody bones—this is very terrifying, and often used to appear to several particular persons, both at sea and land, an hour or two before an engagement—but it is at present, as well as the love-sick ghost, almost out of fashion.

Eternal infamy upon his name, who wishes to have any more ghosts among us; and all honour, praise, and preferment, attend and wait upon the ambassador's chaplain, who gave the Grand Signior wise and christian-like advice; not to open a communication between the Mediterranean and Red-sea; because it would disturb all the ghosts that are now so quietly laid in the last mention'd ocean.

SCENE, PLYMOUTH.

A BEDCHAMBER.

Mrs. LLWHYDDWHUYDD sola in bed; tossing, sighing, fretting, turning, tumbling, wishing and despairing; till on a sudden she upstarted, looking seriously at the light upon the hearth, and taking a pinch of right rappee, thus soliloquised.

THE candles just burnt out, and no Knott come yet; what would I give, if I was but at home with my dear husband; if ever I put my trust in man again, except my own dear husband, I wish this pinch my poison! oh what villains are that inconstant sex, except my own poor dear husband. O that he did but know where I was, that my dear David was but with me, he would not let me lie alone, frightening myself, if I was but this moment with my dear husband in my own room, or if he was but with me here—as to Knott—he's a scrub—a wretch I despise and contaminate—he never knew how to value a woman of merit—no, not he —let him have his trulls, I always was too good for him — I despise him; nobody do I love, or ever did but my dear husband — just then her stomach began to pain her — her heart grew cold — she put forth her hand upon the chair, by the bedside was a bottle three parts full of medicinal water.

She raised the elixir to her mouth—and gently gulping—once—twice—thrice—administered, warmth to her sorrow chill'd breast, discontent, died away, sleepful she sunk upon her pillow, lulled to rest by the calm opiate, of genuine Hollands.

SCENE next MORNING.

JUST as Madam Llwhyddwhuydd sat down to her tea, the Merry Andrew came jumping into her apartment; bawling out as loud, as a bribed voter bellows liberty. Madam Knott, Madam Knott, here's good news about you in the news-paper; your husband has sent for you home again.

Cups, saucers, tea-pot, toast and butter, all tumbled to the floor; the lady in her hurry, of joy, rushing strait forward, overset the breakfasting stool. — Where? where is it she cried? snatching at the same time the Chronicle out of the tumbler's hands—but recollecting her inability to make the words out, returned the paper; and begged the young man would read every word of it to her loud, and very loud.

Mr. SOMERSET began.

Whereas Chloe, the wife of muster—here is a hard word, madam, full of double L's, and double D's, and double U's, and I can't spell it.

Mrs. LLWHYDDWHUYDD.

I know it, child, never mind that, my dear; go to the next word.

Mr. SOMERSET.

I'll begin again madam, and skip that.

Mrs. LLWHYDDWHUYDD.

Do so, my best friend.

Mr. SOMERSET reads again.

Whereas Chloe, the wife of Muster, what do you call um, was decoy'd away by one Knott, a Corporal; this is to give notice, that if she will return home to her own lawful spouse, she shall meet with a hearty welcome, and no questions asked.

The husband's grief, was left to the reader's imagination. The Editor bequeaths the wife's joy to the same colourist, and as he made bold to carry her off, takes the same freedom to bring her home again; her husband received her with all that joy, which every fond forgiving spouse has felt, when, with out-stretched arms, he once more impounds his long strayed lady.

Blessing each other, they embraced; and over and over again they blessed that day, and also blessed the inventors of publishing new-papers, advertisements, &c.

In honour of the Press, I must be allowed

A DISSERTATION on DAILY-PAPERS.

No Patriot, in or out of place, ever considered their utility, with that grateful attention, these publications deserve.

Is there a want in the world, but what may be instantly relieved, if the patient will but consult the columns of those morning and evening intelligencies? with as much gravity, as ever any one of the faculty pulled off his gloves; I do declare, that without the help of these dictionaries for the day, the great business of the nation could not be carried on.

How could Mrs. Philips hope for the continuance of her customers? or the nobility and gentry know where to pay in their Opera subscriptions? where could they send for the best royal beautifying fluid? or could be sure of having French chicken gloves genuine? how should we know when Mr. Whitfield preaches in Edinburgh, or Georgia? or where we should be sure of Roman purl unadulterated? how should we be ascertained where the most notified Dr. Taylor performs his occulistical, or oratorial operations? or where the best liquid blacking is to be got? where to send for the pure aetherial volatile quintessence of essence? or how could we be informed, that the sea-water at Bright-Helmstone, is better than any other sea-water? were it not for being so instructed, by paragraphs and advertisements aforesaid. O credulity, cre-credulity, thou universal power, how much are we indebted to thy influences?

New discoveries, elixirs, lotions, injections, and nostrums, for the ladies, are (as we read) to be had at every toy-shop.

Sometimes, indeed, the applications and uses of these extraordinary succedaneums are not expressed, in so delicate a stile, as polite persons might wish. But when we consider, the humane intent of the makers-up, and venders of these medicines, the stile is excused.

As in the country, we put up with the indelicacy of the entertainment, for the good will of the host.

The humanity of the College of Physicians here must be noticed; they have an authority to inspect into medicine-mongers; and can, nay, and should, and I suppose do, visit several places where drugs are sold. Yet it never was known, that any deputation from Gresham College, or Apothecaries-hall, inspected into the noted Dr. Franks, Dr. Sarrant, Dr. Rock, Dr. Jesuit Drop, Dr. Greek Water, &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. This wilful omission, is owing to the same public spirit, by which Mr. Ashley on Ludgate-hill is agitated; gentlemen of the faculty, are willing to let every person have physic as well as punch, in small quantities, and therefore wink at the aforesaid advertisers.

Yet such is the malignity of humankind, that even this generous behaviour of the faculty has been found fault with; and the babbling pack of scandal yelpers bark out — that as quacks make diseases worse, the profits of the regular bred must be thereby increased.

Malicious insinuations, as if gentlemen of the M. D. signatures, would be guilty of such pitiful finesses. Thus the mad multitude have as basely clamoured against the POLICE.—The low-life herd of hirelings give out, that truly, if the worthies in commission would but take half as much pains to suppress the bawdy-houses, bagnios, &c. in their parishes, as they labour to take highwaymen, it would be of more benefit to the nation in general—but how little do these people know of sporting—if the cover was grubbed up, the breeding of game would be prevented; how then could money for a subscription pack of harriers, tarriers, &c. be collected?

With what force I ween?—but good heaven forgive us, God bless their majesties, and every person who is commissioned by them, to see justice done as it should be.—And as Mr. Jacob Henriques observes, it is all for the glorification of Old England.

When I mention the word quacks, it is not to be presumed, that any gentleman recipe-vender, acting under letters patents, can be hinted at; because we are all certain, patents are only granted to men of excellent science, of approved education, whose discoveries have been owing to indefatigable study, and are witness from repeated experiments, before the most skillful, to be entirely calculated for the health and preservation of the people of England.

These, and many more uses than these, belong to news-papers, they not only bring health to patients, but ladies to despairing lovers, and wives to husbands, as in the case of Mr. and Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd now under our consideration; had it not been for the conveniency of advertising, when could they have come together again.

Yet David did not descend one grain from the dignity of in-bred honour, by permiting his wife to return home.

For while he had one ready-money customer left, his big heart despised submission; but when all his trade was lost, the garrison of his great mind was forced to capitulate, his nobleness of spirit and blood of Japhet, were forced to surrender prisoners of war, at and to discretion. He obeyed the times. Madam Llwhyddwhuydd gave him her hand, he kissed it—tears of joy swelled over his eye brinks, and he told her, in the name of God and good people, how his heart was glad to see her, to be sure, and I do hope in deed, I do now.

Mrs. LLWHYDDWHUYDD.

And so do I, husband, that nothing hereafter may be mentioned concerning my former withdrawing myself; for although my dear husband, I esteem you as so worthy a man ought to be esteemed; yet if ever you was to reproach me, with what might or might not suppose to have happened during our separation; that moment should be my last, I would the next plunge myself to the bottom of the river, and prevent that way your ill usage.

Her spouse, though in raptures at the stateliness of his wife's gesture; yet the resolution of her look frightened him; fearful that she should make away with herself, especially as he had been at such an expence to fetch her home too; he kneel'd down and begged her to be pacified, and forgive him, if he had said any thing amiss.

She forgave him, and raised him with a tender reconciling look, equal to what the most enraged (though detected) lady can soften into, when her husband has made a proper humiliation, and giving up all his informers.

For it is not possible a man can love his lady, either married or unmarried, unless he will wink at her errors; and the larger those errors are, or the greater the number, the more occasion has he to manifest his affection.

To do David justice, which a man so well born as he was, deserves; although his enemies said he was a perfect t'other-end-of-the-towns-man, suffering himself to be carried down the tide in the corrupted currents of this world, admitting the flaws and cracks of reputation to be cemented by the solder of self-interest, yet he never let awry word pass his lips against his lady.

Madam Llwhyddwhuydd grew again the admiration of the neighbourhood, and customers, even the best in the parish, assembled there every evening as before times.

SCENE the TROLLOPEE'S CATASTROPHE. OR RETORT UNCOURTEOUS.

SOON after Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd's return, Mr. Ap Thomas, her spouse's partner, with a full pot of porter in his hand, happened to run against her, just as she came from her Sunday noon's walk in St. James's Park.

Her white satin trollopee was splashed with it, and the very smell of porter always made Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd sick; because persons are apt to depise what they get their living by; her cloaths were spoiled, and such cloaths too!—a dress, that the first dutchess in the land might have gone to court in.

Passion ever has power to serve an ejectment upon reason; the suffering lady on that account, became so little mistress of herself, that she called Thomas several severe names, and at last told him he was a vulgar creature.

The word vulgar, was grimgribber, to the ancient Briton; to be reflected upon, as if he was not a gentleman, irritated him to that degree, that he returned her severe words; with words yet more severe.

The writer of this part has served his time to the knowledge of mankind, and since worked several year journeyman in that profession; else he never could have believed such words could have escaped any man's lips; who valued himself upon being a gentleman, as Mr. Thomas uttered.—He made use of such phrases, that no persons, if they were not in a passion, or chose to be looked upon superior to the scurrilous rank of informing constables, would rehearse.

For in most illiberal language, he reproached her with the Corporal.

Company coming in very fast, she could not with decency stay, to hear him any longer, Ladies may like to listen to some sort of expressions, yet it is not proper every body should know it. It was extreme modesty that made Mrs. Llwhuddwhuydd quit the bar, and leave her adversary master of the field of battle.

She went up to her chamber, and sent for Miss Shred, to consult about repairing the damage done to her dress; then she acquainted Miss Shred, with Thomas's abuse, repeating the very words over and over, and over again, and concluded, saying, No Miss, upon my honour, I never can, or ever will forgive that
Page 118
fellor.—He told me, that the Corporal—my God!—besides to call me whore, Madam. Whore, my dear Miss—I never was on man's whore, it was always love, to which I gave up my soul; not any mercenary views; and therefore, as I never took money, how can I be a whore?

Miss SHRED.

Indeed, Madam, I wish you was to have been last lecture night at our tabernacle, to have heard that good creature the doctor divide the difference of going into keeping, through inclination, or interest.

Love for love is, (as he said) like the Levitical law) of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; but mercenary matches, with or without the parsin (it is all the same) is a sin not to be even purified even by regeneration. But, dear madam, you never told me why you wou'd come home again. I hope the Corporal was not inconstant?

Mrs. LLWHUDDWHUYDD.

Inconstant Miss! Do you imagine the horrid country ladies, could have any charms for a gentleman like Mr. Knott? who had been titup a tit-up with all the beau moon of St. James's Park[*]—Inconstant—no Miss, I ashure you [looking in the glass] I didn't fear any rivals; but I could never forgive the Corporal, because he would not hold his tongue. To be sure, he mought have made himself worthy of any woman's love, if he would not have boasted so, and made my name the tent-talk of his comrades. I vow, Miss, I have blush'd spontaneously, as one may fay, and my cheeks have burn'd as much, as if one was talking of a body. When I us'd to reflect, how my name mought be brought up as the Corporal's concubine, before a parcel of sutlers wives, and sogers trulls—me Miss — was it ME to be treated so—I could not bear the idea [rising up] I, I, to be used so— [walking forwards and backwards, her left hand extended upon her right breast, her right hand waving a handkerchief in a curve, or serpentine line] I here she set down again] I who was born in the Ingies, and my mamma was first waiting woman of quality to the Empress of the Catawaws.

Miss SHRED [Pouring a little more into the glass.

Indeed, Madam, it is immensely monstrous, to reflect how men will blab; and that is one reason why I have often wished to be a person of quality, because they don't care what is said about them.

Miss LLWHUDDWHUYDD.

Very true, dear Miss; but as I am but a simple gentlewoman, one is obliged to be careful concerning one's reputation, and as I left the Corporal, because I would not be talked off; shall such a reptul as Thomas pretend to reproach me? my husband knows of it; and every body knows my husband is a man of honour, and therefore—Miss your health.

Miss SHRED.

To be sure, madam, such affairs as your's with the Corporal, may happen to the finest woman in England; and in polite life, it is looked upon to be no more than an accident; and no persons would blame you, but vulgar creatures, nor is there any harm in it;—that is, when it proceeds entirely from the spirit; as we prove at our love-feasts[*].

Here followeth, in the manuscript, seven Chapters of Mr. Zapanhiel's own hand-writing upon the seven deadly sins; and a collection of receipts of regeneration. Which he entitles, Fullers Earth for the Spots of the Soul, and the account how Miss Shred became a Methodist, which is introduced by a preface of observation; wherein he says, that gamblers and ladies of pleasure, if they live to grow old, and have saved money enough to encourage our pastors, or any pastors to pray by them, they are weaned from their wickednesses, and become sanctified, for the older we grow, the wiser we grow.

And he says further, in exhorting all sinners to regenerate.—Oh what a heavenly comfort it is, to consider, that a sinner, after running thro' a life of all wickedness, shall, only by attending on our tabernacle, be purified. Is it not a rich balsam for a sore soul? therefore come unto us all ye who are afflicted, with the remembrances of the methods, by which ye have got your wealth; and ye shall but give a tythe to us, by way of paying insurance to the saints, who will infallibly save you from being shipwrecked on the rocks of perdition, and will stcer you into the harbour of grace. Yet we are not Papists, no—we won't give you absolution—we are not Protestants—no—we will not save you by repentance—no, no, we are Methodists; and it is regeneration shall save you; it shall be the cork waistcoat to keep you floating, and ye shall not sink into the bottomless pit of the sea, where the Devil of Hell lies in the shape of a shark to devour you.

All these sentimental chapters, the Editor postponed; and therefore was obliged to cut out, and to turn over above 70 pages, before he could find the continuation of this Register, which went on as follows.

The Natural Reason for a LADY's LONGING.

David's lady soon had it in her power to perform her vow—the vow of revenge, which she had solemnly taken to be even with Thomas her trollopee spoiler. Finding herself with child, to the great joy of her spouse, she told her husband she longed for a bite or two at his partner Thomas's nose; and it was that which occasioned those learned quotations, inserted in the first pages of this history. And if the reader pleases to remember Mr. David and his partner, in the midst of that most classical conversation, were called away by the noise of chair, chair—just as Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd had fixed his straps to the poles, a message came that his lady was taken very ill; upon which hurrying away as fast as he could with the fare, he returned to comfort his good woman, who that morning fell in labour, occasioned by her over care as an oeconomist.

For though Madam Llwhyddwhuydd was big with child, and reckoned every hour, yet she would needs go to market herself, because she said, servants had so many ways of cheating their masters and mistresses. It happened, as she passed by a public house, near the market, two people were quarrelling about the critical rules of the game of Put; the altercation being pretty high, the cards were thrown out at the window, just as this lady was passing by, and the knave of Clubs hit her upon the nose. She was frighted, put into a chair, carried home immediately, and fell into labour in about half an hour. Her friends immediately prognosticated, that from the incident of the knave of Clubs striking her, it would be a boy; if it had been a queen, they said, it would have been a girl, and that her son would, as he grew up, be an odd mortal, and as comical to look at, as the knave of Clubs was. The subsequent behaviour of Needy, has verified the truth of the prediction.

Just at this time, many prodigies appeared in the political, theatrical, and scholastic worlds or circles.

At this time the great alloway was in blossom at Hoxton, and a maiden sizes at York city; the first calf with five legs that ever was shown in England, came to town that day; and that day Mr. Whitfield—but whether these revolutions and portents happened in consequence of Ned's coming into the world; or that Ned's coming into the world, was in consequence of these things happening, we leave with submission to the retrospection of all searchers into futurity.

SCENE the DELIVERY.

After Madam Llwhyddwhuydd was put into bed, and her gossips assembled, the good women ordered a man-midwife to be sent for; but Mrs. Llwhyddwhuydd knowing the objection her spouse had to men-midwives, was prudent enough to refuse such assistance, because she was sure it would offend her husband's delicacy.

However, the other ladies were unanimous for a man. She entreated, she begged, they were obstinate; the dispute was loud, it reached into the street, and every stall, chandlers-shop, and cellar-keeper in the parish assembled at the door, and determined, that as they knew David was sent for, he should not pass into his own house, until they had his word and honour, to send for a man-midwife for his lady; for as each said, if it was only for the look of the thing, he should have one; David appeared, at that instant they surrounded him, as the print relates to you, much better than I can. However, one figure in it, I must beg leave to explain; which is, the big-bellied female, who seems to be full of grief—that lady, is spouse to a most celebrated writer of political papers; and who has wrote very severely against men-midwives; because, not being able to pay for their attendance, those gentlemen had refused their assistance.

She was a party deeply concerned in this dispute, and it afflicted her, to take notice of Davids obstinacy—he indeed once or twice attempted to speak—but it was a vain attempt; as he could not, we beg leave to speak for him.

p. 121. SLAUGHTER Surgeon & Man Midwife

Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd was too fond a husband to deny his wife what she desired; but being a great reader, the news-papers and magazines informed him of the indecency, indelicacy, and evil tendency of having men-midwives.

The putters together of those daily and monthly paragraph compendiums had proved, that no husband of nice honour, would suffer a man-midwife; and as David was a man of the nicest honour, how could he endure them?

In some papers it was hinted, that men-midwives could be of no use, because the Indian women delivered themselves.

In other papers it was inserted, that in a state of nature, there were neither men midwives, nor parsons; and that people could do well without both; and as how in the first ages, and the first ages were the best ages, and that this age was the worst age; but in the first ages there were no arts, or sciences, nor occasion for any; that people would live better without them, than with them; that neither mankind or womankind had need for more help than the animals in the fields; or the fowls of the air; that it was only villainous custom, evil habits, wrong tendencies, and the prejudice of education; that made us employ surgeons, taylors, chymists, shoe-makers, men-midwives, dancing-masters, snuff-makers, French-cooks, saddles, shirts, shifts, or pocket-handkerchiefs.

From the information of those weekly paid journalists, we may easily account why GREAT SCHOLARS, who study nature so nicely, are such GREAT SLOVENS; as they know by their extreme skill, that we are not superior to the beasts; they chuse to retain as much brutality as possible in their behaviour.

David, like the traveller in the contention with the wind, wrapped himself up in his surtout, determined to stand out the tempest; when word was brought him, that madam Llwhyddwhuydd was brought to bed of a fine boy, and as like the father—

He would not stay to hear the rest of the messenger's observation; bursting through the crowd, run home, and received the congratulations of his company. Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd indeed rejoiced having a son and heir; and that was the utmost of his hopes, wishes, and prayers, before he had read the observations abovementioned. Yet now his principal satisfaction arose, from the reflection his lady was brought to bed without the help of a man-midwife.

The METAPHYSICAL SCENE.

The authors of Joseph Andrews and Tristram Shandy wrote themselves into reputation, and I believe got money by what they did; and really deserved it.—Ever since I have engaged in this work, I have endeavoured to copy one or both of their stiles, manners, or maxims; but I cannot fancy myself quite so clever. Yet have I all that customary fondness, that becoming partiality, for my own works, which every author ought to have; and hold all the rest of my cotemporaries in a trifling light, to myself. This I do as well as any or all the dramatic writers of England, Ireland or Scotland; but yet I don't find myself (honestly speaking) a jot better genius for all the abuse I make use of.

If the connections I have with publishers could be on my side discharged, or a protection granted me, I might wear a laced coat, and live without working, as well as many other gentlemen.

Then, I would no more meddle with a pen and ink, than a lady in high keeping would mend her own linnen; for my mind scorns the drudgery of writing, reading, and reflecting, as much as any rich man in the kingdom can do.

My wife has an acquaintance, who promises to provide for me, either in the church, the navy, the law, the army, the customs, at court, or in the excise; it does not signify what branch it is; for if a man has but interest, he is fit for any place.

Must it not irritate a genius, like me, or like my spouse, to see so many dunces, driving their one horse-chaise, or else crammed into hackney coaches, taking the air to White Conduit-house, on a Sunday, raising a dust on the New Road, and choaking such foot passengers as me, and my wife: but we enjoy the satisfaction to reflect, though those wretches ride about flourishing, in the folly of finery—yet they perhaps, not one of them, ever made a rebus, or can repeat the Greek alphabet.

At this instant, the dear creature my spouse is sitting by me; in dishabille, indeed—for what need we outward ornaments, when we can deck the mind with understanding, or look upon the fashions of the world, but to condemn, or pity, those that use them.

Our base grovelling-money-getting-neighbours envy us, and abuse us, for suffering our children (we have but six, indeed) to run about ragged. But I despise their rancour, my wife its too well born, too well bred, and too great herself, to descend to the servile domestic drudgery of tending nurseries, or the base culinary employment of cooking victuals; no, we had rather go without a dinner, than dress one for ourselves; and the ingratitude and ignorance of the world won't allow us to afford a servant.

N. B. This digression is here inserted to amuse the reader, until Madam Llwhyddwhuydd was well enough to see company.

All the better most people of Shug-lane, and Middle-row, came to pay the lying-in visit. But Madam Llwhyddwhuydd confessed to her very intimates, that she cou'd not relish a visitor, with half that satisfaction, who lived on the city side of Northumberland house, as she did those at the polite end of the town.

The Gossips met, and cawdle crown'd the board.

Unworthy wou'd it be of me, to have registered this gossipping, had not the meeting been so particularly famous for the metaphysical conversation, which they, for the first time, started in English—concerning several abstruse and occult points, predicaments, qualities, essentials, and immaterialities, relative to ideas, contract, resistance, modes of the mind, habits of the body, rules of government, errors of administration, defects in religious worship, inequalities of rewards and punishments, hell, happiness, Doctors Commons, faith, perjury, simony, heresy, adultery, accidents of matter, and spiritual essences.

Piece-meal have these subjects been retailed, even unto this day, in every coffee-house, tavern, punch-house, ale-house, eating-house, and night-cellar, unless the more interesting vocations of politics, strumpeting, or gambling, have employed the good company's attention.

First GOSSIP.

Indeed, madam, you say true, and I must own, that after I was delivered of my first child, I could not help considering deeply about these things; and so, when I went down for my health into the country, I used to love to see the hens lay eggs; and then those eggs I was told would produce chickens; upon which, ladies, a thought came into my head, that I never have been satisfied about since; and that is — which was made first, the yolk or the egg-shell? if the egg-shell was made first; how came the yolk in it? if the yolk was made first; how came the shell over that?

Second GOSSIP.

That, madam, is one of the mostest curious questions in the world; and it was the parson of our parish, who first axt me that question; and he laughed at me, cause I cou'dn't resolve him; so I made my husband send it to the rial saciety, and they'll tell us about it I know by and bye.

Third GOSSIP.

Now there is one thing, that I, want to know sadly; because our sexton says, the vestry divided about it; and they should know, to be sure, ladies; that is — whether still-born infants have any sins to answer for?

First GOSSIP.

To my knowledge, madam, this has made great disputes among the clergy; and they are divided in their opinions; though, to me, it is as clear as noon-day; for how can poor infants answer, when they never had been taught to speak?

ALL.

Oh, to be sure, quite right, quite right, indeed.

Third GOSSIP.

Pray, ladies, don't you take fate to be a free agent?

Fourth GOSSIP.

To be sure, madam; whatever may be a lady's fate, yet she is a free agent; because, now, suppose I was fated to be married to a person, whom I can't say I could relish, it is at my upshot, to be sure, whether I will act, or no; and so, fate is a free agent.

But a gentleman, who lodges in my one pair of stairs, told me, but yesterday, talking about free agents, and fate, and what might be the fate of agents; that fate, and free agency, were like king and commons, that the mind was the monarch, and the will was the people. So I told him, in answer, that whatever his mind was, he could not have his will of me, without I had a mind.

ALL.

Oh, no, to be sure, no, to be sure.

First GOSSIP.

Now, ladies, give me leave to ask you, whether, as Adam never was born, as other people have been sence; that is, no lady was ever brought to bed, or with child of him, could he have a navel?

ALL.

No, no, no, to be sure, no.

Third GOSSIP.

My brother, ladies, we all know is a great writer; and once wrote a whole news-paper himself. He is so great a genus at handling his pen, that I was tould by the waiter at Ronelor, how he mought have wrote a song, and it would have been sung before the grand company there; and that you know, madam, wou'd be the vastest honour imaginable; because the quality cou'd recommend him, you know, to be poet larum song-maker to the rial familly; but he has gone and disobliged my husband, and all his friends; for he has hired himself to a club of philosophers, and so be is to publish a book, to prove, how far free-will acts upon the load-stone; and he says, he don't doubt but he'll get a penshum for't.

Mrs. Murdock, the nurse, then began a discourse upon ethics, to determine the identical spot of Satan's demesnes, or where hell-fire was. She affirmed it to be seated in the middle of the sun—but Madam Celery, the green-grocer's lady, denied that, and said it was in the middle of the earth.

Miss Shred, who was always a systemist, supposed there were several hells, and that every comet contained one. — The Bible was quoted by Jenny Douglass; but when it was asked what Bible, because Mrs. Murdock observed, there were so many histories of the Bible, published at six-pence per month, she cou'dn't tell what to say to it, for she didn't suppose they could be all good, because the blue-paper covers said so.

Madam Llwhyddwhuydd observed, that she supposed they were all true translations, and explications, or else, to be sure, the bishops would not suffer such things to be published.

Mrs. MURDOCK.

Well, there are so many religions, and so many religious opinions, and so many books about religion, and so many disputes, and so many sort of preachers, that they are not all to be trusted.

First GOSSIP.

No, Madam, why an't they all christians?

Mrs. MURDOCK.

Christians? no, Madam — why some are Presbyterians, and some are Methodists.

Miss SHRED.

As to Methodists, Madam Murdock, you must excuse me; because they are the only christians, for they are regenerated, and no body can be a sincere christian, until being regenerated; but there are a great many people in the world that are of no religion.

Mrs. MURDOCK.

And that's better, than not being of the true one for its a shame to see how parents use their children, here the poor innocents are soused over head and ears, or else they are circumscised, or else made Quakers, or else one thing done to them, or else another, and so they are bound prentice to this, or to that teligion, without ever knowing if they can like it. — And that makes so many different opinions in the world, when they grow up to be men and women; because it don't signify whether they were made Jews or Christians, you see Jews behave as Christians, and Christians as Jews, and there's no telling one from to'ther, I think.

This conversation determined Madam Llwhyddwhuydd, that as there were such disputes about religion, her son should not undergo any spiritual ceremony, until he came to years of discretion, then he might chuse which religion he liked best, and that was the reason, our Master Neddy was never christened.

SCENE, ISLINGTON.

Thus far the Editor compiled of the MSS, and attended on the appointed Sunday at Mr. WARNER'S, who is a very good sort of a man; and one to whom the putter together of these historical paragraphs has been very much obliged.

This would not have been mentioned, but to convince the world all authors are not so ingrateful, as to forget the friends, who formerly filled their bellies.

I have composed Drolls for Mr. Warner's booth, and by his recommendation, I have wrote several dramas for the proprietors of puppet-shows, in which, I used to adhere entirely to the strict rules of Aristotle, Rapin, and Bossu. The chastity of taste among English audiences at that time was so pure, they would not bear the smallest innovation of the unities of time, and place, even in Mr. Punch;—because, as the coffee-house connoisseurs observed, it is more instructive, and more elegant, even to be lulled into a slumber, by the rules of art, than kept awake, and in spirits, by all the fire of fancy, contrary to the Greek and French scale or standard.

At that time Mrs. Charke, sister to the late Mr. Theophilus Cibber, had a famous puppet-show, which was conducted with such regularity.—To compare the puppet-shows of that time, with the puppet-shows of this time, would be only an ill-natured attempt. But Charlotte Charke used to pride herself, that her company, her ladies at least, were all vestals. Because, as she said, a lady belonging to the Theatres Royal may be weak enough, or fond enough, or mean enough, and mercenary enough, to descend being upon the town. But who? (Mrs. Charke used to exult) who can say, they ever supped with the Queen of Sheba, at the Shakespear, or had fair Rosamond at Haddock's?

This daughter of Colley Cibber, the late Poet Laureate, was a lady of surprising singularity; but the oddities of the human mind are unaccountable.

There is his honour Sir ******, a great politician; yet all his delight is chucking six-pence into a quart decanter.

Is not Mr. ***** the great physician, an admirer of parched peas; but cannot eat any, except what he cooks himself.

Mr. ***** the famous mathematician, prefers battledore and shuttle-cock, to painting, poetry, and music; and don't we all know several dignified ****, who, though amazingly orthodox, value themselves more upon their taste, in venison, and Madeira, than in interpreting the scriptures.

Some ladies of distinction have been known to admire low company; their husbands at the same time not caring for any; but it is impossible to account why we are whim bitten. So far has oddity been epidemical, that noblemen have been known; nay, and several at this time are, really fond of their wives; and what is as remarkable, their ladies are as warm in their affections for their husbands.

Our minds will be attached to irregularities. Miss ***, with the finest eyes in England, affects to be near sighted; and Lady *****, a most charming figure, drawn by elegance, and dressed by grace—chuses to appear round shouldered.

Sir ******, one of our most eloquent speakers, and a gentleman of amazing learning, believes he can spin a top, better than any other man in England, and wants to have 500 upon it.

The Rt. *****, who has seven of the finest children, perhaps in Christendom, has impaired his estate, in purchasing and preparing butterfly-wings, to line his study, in imitation of tapestry. And Mr. ***, the most eminent attorney in Great Britain, employs his whole time in gudgeon fishing.

This Mr. Warner above-mentioned, had an oddity of temper, which is uncommon among theatrical managers. He never looked upon his people, to be off the Stage as good as himself; he never chose to countenance them as acquaintance, or be familiar with them as friends.

A fortnight or three weeks preceding the Borough fair, he used to have a great levee of people in the business, although at that instant perhaps out of employ; who would wait upon him, to know if he wanted any hands in the acting, singing, dancing, hocus pocus, or hannock and jannock way.

They used at first to come about dinner-time, and no person keeps a better-house than he does, or understands it better; there was always something good in the pot, or roasting at the fire. There would they walk up and down the kitchen — now glancing at the meat, now at the master; sometimes darting their eyes down, desponding into the dripping pan, then eagerly expectant, lift them up again to the boiler; and then they would strut across the kitchen, and spout; and say, to be, or not to be; and Jemmy would laugh, and whisper me, saying, not to be eat by them colls, I assure you.

Some of these passages I was remarking to Mr. Warner, and we were thinking of old affairs, and I just had told him of the dripping-pan, and the tragedy and comedy people, as Mr, Zaphaniel and the dancing-master came in; we went up one pair of stairs, and there I was shewn MASTER EDWARD and MISS ANN, walking arm in arm up and down the Skettle-alley.

The HISTORY of MISS ANN.

YOU see Mr. Poet (observed the Dancing-master) you see there, that is Miss NANCY, she's a very desirable girl, faith, as showey a figure, as it is possible to represent.

I owned her figure was extremely agreeable.

I protest, Mr. Zaphaniel replied, she is comely amongst the daughters of delight — yea, she is fair as the fairest females of Judah.—She is more precious to my sight, than the rose of Sharon, or the snow-drops of Damascus; verily my friends, my heart beateth to behold her, and I would sooner chuse to have her within my fold, than both my fists full of the gold of ophir.

DANCING-MASTER.

This lady appeared first as a public performer at Sadler's Wells; for some years before she had performed with the public, but never until then theatrically. As she was extremely agreeable in her figure, and the novelty of her dancing added to it, with her excellence in the execution, she soon grew to be a favourite with the town; and the ensuing season, Nancy was engaged at Covent-Garden Playhouse. She became vastly celebrated, admired, imitated, and followed by every body; which is always the consequence, when once a lady of pleasure becomes the fashion.

The first night of her performance at the New House, our hero, whose soul was ever agitated by love and ambition, confessed himself her admirer.

Let me do Master Edward this justice, to praise him for his emulation, in so spirituously aiming at every new part in comedy, which Mr. Garrick is famous for. Yet as every biographer is supposed to be the friend of the genius, whose life he celebrates, I would advise Master Edward rather, hereafter, to strike out a new cast of acting for himself, where comparisons could not be made. In justice to his merit, it must be allowed, he, who is capable of being the master Stephen, the Miser, &c. &c. has a sufficiency of comic abilities, to be, without buffoonery, grimace or mimickry, a capital actor; and be held in a much higher point of character, than what at present he is. Although now he is the drole and comical one of the town, and pleases them with his performances; it is in his power, not only to give pleasure to an audience, but to gain their esteem; and difficult as that part may be to act, it is worth his while to study it.

Edward was in love to all the degrees, sallies, and dependencies of desparation.—The lady observed her conquest, and enjoyed it. She knew her man; had heard that, to his girls and his gamesters, he did not mind what money he threw away. He was a trout worth tickling, and therefore returned him look for look.

Emboldened by this eye language, he began to contrive a scheme, for enlarging the correspondence. He wished to talk with her, but he wanted words — he wished to write to her; but he wanted letters; therefore employed his landland, Mr. THOMAS PHILIPS (of whom more hereafter) to be his secretary.

I cannot forbear mentioning a piece of ingratitude of Neddy's to that old gentleman, who behaved in this affair extremely friendly to him; and yet so far can gaming absorb all grateful principles, that Edward has betted twenty to five his landlord won't live until Lady-day next. The conceit of such a bett has had a violent effect upon the mind of the old gentleman. Mr. Pond also, to the best of my remembrance, has such another wager. I have not, indeed, a syllable to say against Mr. Pond; he is as fair a sportman as ever stepped up the stand; and pays his betts as punctual, as if he was a man of quality. Yet, after he has said done to such a bett; what business had he to drive Mr. Philips from Greg's coffee-house? it seems as if it was designed, as a heart-breaking stroke; since, to be debarred from that academy of universal conversation, must be as great a damp upon the spirits of any of the curiosi; as it was to Bussy Rabutin, to be banished from the French court.

When Miss Ann became a principal dancer, she had a friend, (a female one I mean) to wait upon her behind the scenes, to watch her motions, and take care of her steps.

This duenna was her relation, and therefore had a more than ordinary care of her charge, least detraction should be malicious.

The ogles which Neddy the drole, and Nancy the desireable, reciprocally interchanged, alarmed the old lady guardianess. She trembled at the danger Nancy's honour was in; and soon as they came home that evening, thus began the most careful governante.

I once thought, yes, that I did, Miss Nancy, how you had a better spirit, and a more politer taste, than to coquet it with a player—mercy upon us, what is our family fallen too, if this is the case? and so you're in love with the fellow, are you? I say, love too! I'll tell you what, child, when once any fine woman, like you, condescends to give her company to people of fashion, who can pay her well for it; why there's no harm done—but for a lady to fall in love, it's just like a tradesman dealing all upon honour, they had better shut up shop at once, my dear.

Miss ANN.

Lord, Madam, how you talk, as if I ever loved a man in my life, you know I never did; and yet you know I have had as fine men, as ever put laced cloaths on, and did I ever love any of um? how should I, I have had too many and seen too much of them, to love them▪ Indeed, I used to tell them I did; what then? that was no more than rehearsing one's part you know — as to love—why now, Madam, you know you have gone out a nursing, and have a sweet creature it was; and yet at the same time it was ready to make you sick. Why so it is with us girls of the town, we kiss men, and fondle them, and make babies of them, and tell them they are sweet creatures, and yet, at the same time, they make us almost sick—what then, it don't last long; and though the service may be hard, it's soon over; and if the wages are good, what does it signify?

GOVERNESS.

But who would receive wages from a player?

Miss ANN.

Why, now, didn't you but yesterday read in one of those six-penny blue covered books, there, that we take in monthly, and a charming libry they make, that's certain, — how that a great Roman Catholic Emperor, laid a tax upon peoples making water, and how his son found fault with him for it, because it was a base thing; and didn't the father, as the book says, take up a piece of gold that was gathered by the tax, and bid his son examine, if it smelt of chamber-ly. So, madam, what does it signify, if we girls can but get money, who it comes from; do you think my mercer can tell one body's guinea from another?

GOVERNESS.

Yes, child, but what guineas can you get from a show-man?

Miss ANN.

Why, mun, he no more minds money, than I do modesty; but will give it away as unconcerned, as I do my hair-combings. Besides ma'am, the case is this, I shan't always look so well as I do now; for these cursed washes I use, for all they do give one's neck and face such a fine whiteness, yet they make one's skin in a morning, look all crumpled, like a washer-woman's fingers, and turns one's flesh as yellow, as a pease-pudding. Now, you must know, that this young fellow, Ned, will always have a good salary from the Playhouse; because he is devilish comical, to be sure; tho' he has not all the wit in the world neither—what then — the fitter for my purpose—if I can but persuade him to marry me—why shouldn't I be made an honest woman of? and I will too — I have got some money, and I'd give it all, if I could but be made an honest woman; for it don't signify talking, but I can no more look a modest woman in the face, as I should do, than I can say my prayers. I wonder what's the meaning of it; however, I don't despair, 'cause I know Ned's but a Nicodemus, and a girl may get him to do any thing; we are to sup together to night.

GOVERNESS.

Are ye? then I suppose you are to go to bed together to night; but not at my house, Nan—no, by all that's honourable, I never will consent to so undervaluement a connection.—A player! lye with my relation?—no — as to your having an intrigue with a man of fashion, why it's what no lady need be ashamed of, and indeed few are—for that's natural, and therefore no sin in it; but shall any of our family, ever stoop so low, as to lay the cloath for an actor's ordinary? I detest such business. But see, there's Harris from the Shakespear at the door, some gentleman has sent for you, I'll lay my life on't—go to him, in the Lord's name; but never let me hear any more, about Mr. what's his name.

Miss, not being willing to anger her governess, like other prudent young ladies, was determined to hear her guardianess's opinion, and follow her own. She went to the Shakespear, where her impatient lover Ned waited for her.

Thus began the amour — Mr. WARNER then bringing up dinner, prevented any more being said upon that subject.

Master EDWARD and Miss ANN, dined in the next room, the apartments only divided by a slit deal; as we were impatient to be ear-witnesses, at least of their conversation, we dispatched our ordinary with such expedition, that both their dinner and ours were over together; when, for the benefit of observation, Mr. Zaphaniel made three or four peep-holes in the partition, through which we could see the underwritten Dramatis Personae.

- EDWARD,

- ANN,

- JEMMY,

- MRS. MOLLY.

As I was determined to be punctual in their conversation, I took it down in short hand, at the very time the dialogue was uttered; as follows.

Miss ANN.

Lord, Ned, now don't be so foolish, as to pull one's hair out of order so; I am sure, you men, not one in a hundred of you, know how it is to treat a woman, as you should do— Lord, don't paw one so.

Master EDWARD.

Paw one so!—there's a pretty speech, indeed—paw one so—what now, is that polite language, Miss?

Miss ANN.

May be so—I hope you don't set up for a critic; do you, Sir?

Master EDWARD.

Suppose I do, ma'am?

Miss ANN.

Why then I suppose you do wrong, Sir— because you should never find fault with other peoples words; until you can tell your own letters, Sir.

Master EDWARD.

I can always tell your letters, Nan, when you send to me for money.

Miss ANN.

Yes; but who reads them for you? your landlord, doesn't he?

Master EDWARD.

Your landlord, doesn't he? why I neither value my landlord, nor you into the bargain.

Miss ANN.

Nor any body else, Ned, that ever did you any favours; I will say that for you, your gratitude and my virtue, are two very fine things, if any body could but tell where to find them. —There was, what's his name; who wrote the droll for you, which you thought proper to call your droll, and made you your Dish of all Sorts, and the Day of Taste, and several comic songs, which have been of such service to you in your benefits both in town and in the country, how did your serve him? did'nt you exspose him falsely, and scandalously; and strove, by what you said of him publickly, in some of the infamous bawdy-houses, that you frequent, to render him contemptible? And he had never done any thing, to my knowledge, to merit such treatment.—I wish he would write something about you; I wish he would; nothing he could print against you, could be half so bad, as the abuse you have loaded him with, in my hearing, Neddy, but he don't value you,— nor I neither—that for you — that for you; and she snapped her fingers, as if playing upan the castanets, or like Caledonian ladies figuring country dances.

Master EDWARD.

There's a pretty piece of St. Giles's music for you, there's a gentlewoman's action for you.

Miss. ANN.

No, Ned, I lost that character, as soon as I let you have any thing to say to me.

Master EDWARD.

I think myself as good a gentleman—

Miss ANN.

What, because you wear a laced coat? and belong to the play-houses, why so does New-gate Tom, and he bought his finery second-hand •oo, the same way, that you came by your wit, 〈◊〉 your jokes—you have them all at second-hand now—the maker won't furnish you any longer—you a gentleman? yes, when a night man's cart, may pass for a nobleman's chariot.

Master EDWARD.

If you never was to have any people to trade with you, but gentlemen, you would have very few customers.

Miss ANN.

I had one too many, when I took you for my chapman.

Master EDWARD.

Well, let's have no more of your nonsense.

Miss ANN.

As much sense as yourself, Ned, and come of a better family—now there's a spiteful fellow for you, to throw a glass of wine in my face—O you malicious—but I'll do for you—and then she clapped her hands together, as if she was applauding him for his acting.

I'll expose you, sirrah; I'll tell Squintum of you; yes, that I will, Mr. Jew's Face: though, for that matter, he knows as many tricks as you do; for, to my knowledge, the saints at the tabernacle can humm as well as any player in England, they are a parcel of sad dogs, and for your part, Ned, you are—

At that moment Master Edward's clench'd fist, like a battering ram, was drove hard, horizontally, against her mouth; which blow would have been repeated, quick as the change of a pantomime trick, had not the rest of the company interposed.

Soon as the suffering lady recovered the use of her speech, bursting into tears, she declared, that the villain wanted to spoil her face; because she should not get her bread any longer, as she ought to do.—For you know, Jemmy, addressing herself to the landlord, and still crying; a girl upon the town, when she has lost her beauty, is like a toyshop having its show glass stole away: but by G—

Mrs. MOLLY.

Oh, don't swear, my dear creature, consider it is the Lord's day, and such a thing as an oath shocks me. Christ, what conscience must those people have, who break any of the commandments.

Miss ANN.

Lord, Madam, I don't want to be taught about conscience; I believe my conscience, and your's too, madam, if they were hung upon a hedge to dry, no body would think them worth stealing.

Mrs. MOLLY.

Madam, I suppose that I may have as much conscience as my betters?

Page 148.

Miss ANN.

But if you have not more, than most of them, Lord help you, Madam—see how that fellow stands grinning there—don't hold him, Jemmy—let him come on—curse me, if I don't box him—I'll beat some conscience into him—so stand clear; for if I don't give him something to make him remember me, may I never know what a guinea is again.

In a hurry she pulled off her treble ruffles, with trembling fingers, twitched from her waist, the deep flounced apron, threw her garnet edged cap upon the floor, and in amazonian attitude, flourishing her fists, with hornpipe step, she advanced against her adversary, who stood in bear-garden position, with horrid grin, as Satan encountred the seraph Abdiel.

The lady's locks, unfilleted, fell down her back; dangling like the dropping tresses of a sign painted mermaid.—HE bare-skulled, bruiser like;—and now the belligerant pair advanced within fingers reach of each other.

OH, FOR THAT WARNING VOICE!

But what signifies wishing for it? that CHURCH-ILL'S a very ill-natured monopolist, and won't part with a note of it.

Come then, thou stimulator, and inspirer of all prosaic scribblers, who, like me, jumble words together, unmusical, unmeaning, inaccurate, inelegant, and indifferent. SPIRIT of RIBALDRY assist me, to sing, or to relate.

How Nancy seized Ned by the collar, with one hand; and with the other, drew from the top of his forehead, four perpendicular lines along his face — blood following every scratch.—But as she passed her fingers down, two of them were caught between his teeth; she shrieked, he bit, his fist fell furious on her face; his other hand seized her hair; and with head bent back, and swelled out throat, down on the floor she fell, pulling Ned upon her, and by the fall her fingers were releas'd.

But as it often happens in states, that those who are IN shall be OUT; and those who are OUT shall be IN; the nose of Mr. Edward, pitched between the upper and lower rows of ivory, which adorned Miss Nancy's mouth. Quick as a shark's snap, she fixed them in the gristle, Ned roared like a whipped school-boy. She pinned him fast,—she—.

Enter in a violent hurry the waiter, to Mr. Zaphaniel and his company.

WAITER.

Gentlemen, there is somebody's footman below; axing after an author—down stairs hurried the Editor.

FOOTMAN.

Sir, you must come to our house this moment.—Great people are to be obeyed implicitly. Not a reply to be uttered.—Because PASSIVE OBEDIENCE is elected foot-stool-maker to LADY FASHION.

Away I went along with the servant, running, trotting, walking, panting, and almost breathless, arrived at the palace of my patron.

The footman informed his honour, that the man who made books was below—very well, let him wait.—So I did, about three hours, and then had the happiness of a command, to attend there next morning, delivered from the most respectable personage himself; who condescended to give me that order, viva voce, as I stood bowing at his chariot door, before he pulled the glass up.

This postponing or delay in my affair, with my patron, arose not from his haughtiness—or any other supercilious practise, with which geniuses are generally treated, when put into trammels by their superiors.

My BENEFACTOR, my MAECENAS, my MAGNUS APOLLO, had too much regard for the Arts and Sciences, to use me, or any other professor, in so contemptuous a manner.

But the reason I had not an immediate audience was;

An ARTIST from Siberia having met with the celebrated tooth and pinion scheme of Mr. JONATHAN SWIFT for making verses mechanically, improved upon the hint, and constructed an engine for the universal erudition of mankind, respecting ARTS and SCIENCES.

This piece of mechanism, being just imported, was brought to my patron, for his countenance and inspection, just after the footman came for me. He saw at once its most amazing utility; and cried out, BRAVO, before one wheel went about.

The rudiments of learning, the judgment of scientific taste, the excellence of all genius, the mistery, art, plan, design, projection, section, elevation, and estimate of all professions, callings and occupations, without the gift of invention, the labour of study, or the benefit of a fine understanding, this machine explained, and taught instantly, by the new discovered principle of INTUITION; and in half an hour's time, the purchaser became an universal master of arts, as easily, as pretty miss plays tunes on a hand organ.

It was very dear, and therefore no persons, but people of fashion, being able to become purchasers; it kept the knowledge of every thing confined to the polite part of the world; and as every thing is to be estimated by its worth; and as the worth of every thing is only what it will sell for at market; and as no body but rich people can afford to buy every thing; and as every thing a man buys is his own; therefore only people of estate, family, title, or pension, can be said to be possessed of the arts and sciences, which they purchased in the manner above related, by this ENGINE.

The name of it is TECHNICATHOLICAUTOMATO PAN TOPPIDON.

The fabricator met with that encouragement, it behoves the rich to afford the ingenious.

The truly delicate, made a point of encouraging so extraordinary an artist; especially, as he was not of this nation's growth, but imported.

Persons of breeding observed, their children threw away a horrid deal of time at school; and as they could judge by themselves, that they were very little the better for it. Nothing could therefore be so immensely convenient, or indeed so elegant a piece of furniture, as a clockwork school-master, that would teach grown people of fashion, to be persons of reading and taste, while their hair was dressing. One objection was made to the engine, which was, that it could not be so proper a thing to vent one's spleen on, as a living creature; because it is the ultimate of taste, among the very best bred, to behave rudely, to those ingenious, who have only their own merit to recommend them: more especially, if the artist should, by the misconduct of parents, and cruel decree of providence, be born in ENGLAND.

For the truth of this, and other as horrid particulars, I appeal to the behaviour of 9/10 of all the connoisseurs who keep coaches.—As to what any person else is pleased to prate about, it's not to the purpose; because no man has a right to speak in company, unless he is qualified, by much money, or sanctified by court interest. Then he may express his contempt for his own countrymen, with proper consequence.

Sir Minikin Pinfly, at the Opera, last week, was observing to Lady Fidgill, (her ladyship having informed the Baronet, that the great premium was given to the gentleman who had found out the art of preventing black lead combs from being brittle.) In an affair of so much consequence to the nation in general, as black lead combs, he thought, that the contriver could not be too much encouraged; especially, if he was a foreigner; because, I do assure your ladyship, that English artists are generally immensely impertinent.

Lady FIDGILL.

Frightfully so, pon onner, Sir Minikin; and then they are vastly ungenteel, and such slovens.

Sir MINIKIN.

Detestable, my Lady.—To be sure, I don't trouble my head about pictures, or statures, or books; but a gentleman must have such things for furniture; and if I send to any of these artists, to do a job belonging to those things; if he's a foreigner, the dear creature is so delicate, so submissive, and such vast good company,—I vow, I dote upon them. But if you send for any of the English brutes of geniuses, why, truly, they are so saucy, they won't dine but at what table they please; and are so impudent, as to pretend to offer to give their opinions to one of us; as if such common bred creatures could know things so well as we do.

Lady FIDGILL.

They are hideous creatures; and I can't bear to see a genius, without it is at Sadlers Wells; and to be sure, there, they are very well upon the wire, or tumbling, or dancing hornpipes; but for your painting-engraving people,—or your house-building-architects, or mathem—I detest such horrid barbarous names; but indeed, the whole crew of creatures, who know one nonsense or another about the arts and sciences, are only mob—positive mob—I'm sure on't; specially those born this side Berwick—they even have the effrontery, with their stuff, about understanding, and learning, and fancy, and wit, and humour, to conceit; their senses, are as good as ours, who are persons of distinction, and scorn to be beholden to any such low bred mechanical acquirings, as they value themselves upon.

An interview between Author and Patron.

Next morning, being introduced to my most respectable Lord, submissively I made my obeysance in low bows, according to the eastern worship, as soon as the door of his apartment unfolded, for me to appear before him.

He beckoned me to advance; I did, bending at every step; and as I approached the carpet, where his armed chair was placed, in which he reclined, I was awed. I considered myself in the time of the Roman mythology, entering into the Inner Temple, where the tutelar deity was enshrined.

The good, the great, the wonderful man, all affability in his smile, all condescension in his gesture, was thus most graciously pleased to announce his will unto me, one of his unworthy dependants.

N. B. As his honour spoke to me, he was putting a piece of brass wire into a guinea-pig's ear; on account of some philosophical experiment, I suppose.

CONNOISSEUR.

Your wife, Mr. Trip, is a vast intelligent being, and one for whom I have an immense regard.

I bowed — indeed, I bowed at every word I had conferred upon me; for, by the observations I have been empowered to make, in the politest, grandest assemblies of my superiors, I have noted, a bow, and a smile, and a curtsy, and a simper, are the general answers and explications to almost every address.

My patron, having set down the guinea-pig; pulled out his ear-picker; and, as he used it, thus delivered himself.

You are going, Mr. Trip, to enjoy a happiness, which very few geniuses ever enjoyed; or is it fit they should. You will be provided for, according to your merit, by having a place; but it must be accepted on certain conditions.

AUTHOR.

May it please your generosity — you may be certain of my coming into any conditions. I hope you will find, I possess as proper a ductility of mind, as any other writer, your mightiness has been pleas'd to make pensionary.

CONNOISSEUR.

Your speak, Sir, as every man of sense ought to speak. By men of sense, I don't mean those wretches, who pretend to be clever, without having shoes to their feet, or dare to arraign the conduct of their betters; yet have not as much earth of their own, as will serve to bury them. They, Mr. Trip, should be punished; they shall starve for their contumacy: but be you conformable; you shall find your account in it. You are a man of sense; your understanding, I don't doubt, is clear, ripe, and strong; that is, clear enough to distinguish what is for your own interest; ripe enough to be ready for any thing; and strong enough not to be biass'd by any of those beggar-making bubbles of public spirit. Love, gratitude, friendship, freedom; those, and other such like terms, Mr. Trip, are only tubs toss'd out for the whale, and which the hydra MOB call the harmonies and sympathies of the soul.

Next, you are to take care that, in your future writings, you rail against the liberty of printing, call it the licentiousness of the press.

You are also to endeavour to inculcate the doctrine of non-resistance; and to argue strenuously for the eligibility of arbitrary power.

Lastly; you must give up all your friends, relations, and acquaintance to me, Mr. Trip.

AUTHOR.

Your honour may be assured, that not one of your honour's writers can give up more for your service, than I will; or do more any how. Because, thank God, Providence has bless'd me, with as copious a talent for abuse, as for panegyrick. I know, may it please your honour, and with all respect to your universal scientific conceptions — I know, as well how to vilify, as to compose a dedication; and if my play—

CONNOISSEUR.

To-morrow, Mr. Trip, you shall go under instructions, for a foot walk in the excise; for no genius shall be unrewarded by me; such, I mean who are modest, and know themselves. But as you will now be settled for life,—you must relinquish all acquaintance, with what are called clever-fellows; they are dangerous companions, rebellious reipublican spirits, who have the insolence, not only to think about us; but even are profane enough, to give their opinions concerning how things are, and how things should be? However, you have a better way of thinking; and therefore keep company only with those, who have nothing to do, and as little to say, and taste the benefits of that tranquil indifference, which hardly any, but those who have their fortunes made for them, are ever acquainted with.

I bowed; to the ground I bowed, and hastened home; happy to think, I should soon be able to lead an uniform, steady, and obedient life, go to bed, get up, dine, sup, and so forth, always in one way, at such, and such stated hours; and never make any attempts at wit or humour, or concern myself with the merits and distresses, for the future, of my fellow-creatures; because I should arrive soon at that glorious state of insipidity, and dissipation, in which I had often seen many, of what are called the gay part of the world, indulge themselves.

Being thus provided for, by his excellency, I humbly take my leave of the public; sorry I could not finish this work; but more sorry, for some other of my works, wherein I have endeavoured to be witty and comical; for which I most submissively beg pardon, of all gentlefolks in general, from the highest of the betitled, unto the lowest of their door-keepers, and promise, for the future, to be as dull as the best of them.

Yet, well as I can, to expiate in some measure for former offences, I propose a scheme, to prevent authors, attempting either humour, or wit, in what they write, for the future, viz.

As some part of the army is to be disbanded; if those persons, who in the camp are the hangmen of the army, and called the provost guard; and if the most active of the drummers, who have had the most practise in whipping, during the late war, were not to be sent adrift, but incorporated in the regiment of reforming constables, this scheme, with the other common methods of turn out, and starve scoundrel, what's your wife and ten children to me, would preserve the POLICE of this kingdom for the future in proper subordination, and writers on the wrong side of the question be taught respect.

FAREWELL.
N. B. The proprietors of the copy of this history having been at a great expence for Plates and Authors, hope the Town will encourage the assiduity, with which they have laboured to find out a person capable of finishing this work; because, by the first Editor's preferment, this DRAMATIC PERFORMANCE—a work so very essential towards bettering the understanding of every reader, whose penetration can unaenigmatise the foregoing pages, must have been postponed, sine die. The loss which that would have been to the public, can never be estimated.

Notes

*
We suppose she means tête a tête.
↵

*
The Methodists have all night-meetings, called Love-feasts.
↵

An Account of the Continuation of this Work.

AN errand-boy belonging to the printer, vulgarly, and irreligiously called a Devil, hearing that, for want of an author, no more copy could be obtained to complete this volume, told his master, he knew a gentleman, who lodged in his mother's back garret; (the author and devil being bed-fellows) who, the boy said, he was sure would finish it; because he had often heard the gentleman say, that as far as a pen and ink could go he would undertake any thing.

The Devil being agent for both parties, a bargain was immediately struck, between publisher and author, whose name is CANNON, commonly called, CAPTAIN CANNON, on account of his inventive faculty, or allegorical manner, in which he was won't to express himself.

This person appeared to be one of the EXTRAORDINARIES OF THE TIMES, by his argumentatives against the late Orator Henley.

In those altercations, the loquacity of Cannon was so conspicuous; he became a favourite among all the people of exquisite taste, particularly a mountebank doctor; who admired the lad for the facility of his physical and metaphysical replies; and determined (even without the least interest being made in the young fellow's behalf) strange as it may seem, to encourage so promising a genius, therefore constituted him immediately his MERRY ANDREW.

A widow lady, whose spouse had suffered the severity of the law, because he endeavoured, upon a belligerant principle, to investigate the universal axiom, GET MONEY, fell in love with the Merry Andrew, for eating fire and tow; she was then in equipage, by a very famous ministerial writer; therefore the lady had power to recommend, or introduce Cannon to her friend; who made him his amanuensis.

Under this master, he became proficient in politics, and was properly initiated in the grand mystery of mysteries, or the true art of preferment writing, viz. to DEIFY the INS; and make DEVILS of the OUTS.

The Methods he made use of in his Pickle-herring capacity, were of infinite service to him in his political one. He was also a very good posture-master; and that brought him into great esteem among his superiors; and he had hints that he should be encouraged, equal to the most celebrated of the retained writers.

He grew noted among the notified; he was supposed to have great interest with some people. It was whispered about, he was in the secret, therefore when in company, he abstracted himself accordingly.

He began to consider himself, and reflect, that such a writer as he was, and engaged in such connections, was liable to meet with a sudden change of circumstances, either for the better, or worse, according to the weight, balance, or prejudice of party.

Upon a CHARIOT, and the PILLORY, he daily meditated; as they were both particular exaltations, and what he knew had been bestowed upon different persons very often, for the same action.

Conscious of his own importance, he formed to himself a new system of behaviour; and assumed, wore, and bore an author-like consequence.

He had his shoes cleaned every day, and wrote E. S. Q. R. after his name. The waiters at the coffee-houses made bows to him; and the landlord at the Shakespear shook him by the hand. He had the liberty of the scenes, gave his opinion in the green-room, and told every body, how many days in the week he dined with my lord.

Then he wore a sword, and a snuff-box, began to pity poor writers; hired a laced coat; and looked about him.

At last, he condescended to tell the town himself, that he was a man of wit and learning, and folks pointed at him as he went along the streets, saying, That's HE.

He drew his pen for preferment; and waged scurrilous warfare against all his betters, who were out of favour. He fought blushless, through the field of faction. He mangled the overthrown, he despoiled the departed of their honours. VENALITY crowned his temples with a brazen frontlet; and trampling over the fallen worthies, she led him to the shrine of SECRET SERVICES; where the Oracle assured him protection and reward.

At that time, there were numbers to provide for, who had been true servants of his HONOUR; and for whom, when no more vacancies could be made, new places must be contrived.

This was the captain's case. He had the promise of being INSPECTOR GENERAL of the MILK OFFICE, within the bills of mortality; to prevent so wholesome a commodity from adulteration.

The author of this salutary scheme was an Arabian; who came over here in Oliver's time, to get a patent for it; because foreigners always are more studious for our good, and study more for the benefit of this nation, than the English can do, or indeed dare do, for themselves.

But the Arabian was discovered to be in the Tartar interest; because he endeavoured to substitute mares milk instead of cows; to make us brew all our porter from oatmeal, and pretended to prove horse-flesh more wholesome than ROAST BEEF.

This project was thrown aside for several years, until particular contingencies occasioned it to be revived, as above mentioned; and all the proper attendants appointed, viz.

- 24 Tasters, who were to be the sons of Freeholders.

- 6 Clerks, These were obliged to be house-keepers.

- 4 Porters, These were obliged to be house-keepers.

- A Gauger, These were obliged to be house-keepers.

- A Secretary, These were obliged to be house-keepers.

- A Deputy, These were obliged to be house-keepers.

The Inspector general. He was allowed to be any thing. With him was joined, A COMPANY OF ASSISTANTS;

Composed of

- Two Apothecaries,

- Two Dairy-women,

- Two Experimental Philosophers,

- One Butter-melter,

- Two Spectacle-makers,

- Two Physicians,

- Two Wet-nurses,

- A Clyster-pipe borer,

- A Metaphysician And

- The Curds and Whey-keeper.

The multiplicity of friends, which somebody, or somebody else had to oblige, procrastinated the institution; which made Cannon, about the year 1746, relinquish all his inspectorial hopes, and be contented with the head labour of an author, mantaining himself by the sweat of his brow, as poets, or prose people, should do.

During the winter season, he picks up a pretty living, with several more such subaltern genii, by putting together magazines, and memorandum books, penning murders, making rebuses, and singing songs for both parties, and writing in news-papers against the players.

Yet I must do those prose writers the justice to declare, that they would not do so if they could help it.

They acknowledge it is wrong, to prejudice the town against any performer; because his bread may be lost by it.—What then?—they had rather all the world should starve than themselves; and starve they must, if their works did not go off; and they can only send abuse to market; well knowing, scurrility is always saleable; depraved appetites delight in things uncleanly; and some virtuosi make collections of snakes, toads, spiders, monsters, deformities, dark lanthorns, and poison'd arrows.

In the summer months these writers retreat into the country; mantain themselves very decently, and indeed reputably, by making hay, and harvest work.

N. B. The publisher thus far has taken the liberty to premise, in behalf of the second undertaker of this performance, who now begs to be indulged in a word or two from himself.

CANNON.
To the READER,

IT is with reluctance that I agreed to finish the Memoirs of this Comedian; because I am not in amity with any Theatrical Professors—having met with severe usage from the superiors of that Fraternity.

At the age of 19 I did a Tragedy, not acted it, I mean (for I was always above being a player) but wrote one; which had not the least bankruptcy among the unities; and therefore I assured myself, I must have great credit for my manufactory.

As to making interest, to have my tragedy recommended; though I was told, it was the only way to go to work; yet, being bigotted too much to the excellence of my piece, I despised such advice; and was assured, within my own mind, that it would be put into rehearsal by the manager, upon his first reading it.

But multa cadunt, &c.

However, by using the same chandlers-shop, I got acquainted with a young lady, whose sister was dresser to a very celebrated actress.

She invited me to drink tea with her sister, the dresser, to whom I read my play; who approved of it mightily; because, as she observed, there was not much dressing in it.

I had the honour of being introduced to the lady, her mistress, who received me with pecular deportment; which, as Gil Blas observes, most of the ladies theatrical put on to strangers, especially if the visitors are foot people.

She stared at me, when I came into her room, so much, that I was prodigiously out of countenance (a fault, of which even detraction will deny I am often guilty.)

But recollecting it is the common look, which ladies bear, both on and off the stage, when they condescended to SEE their inferiors, I began to come to myself.

After I had been surveyed, as much as she thought it consistent with her dignity, to observe me, she tinkled a silver hand-bell; and, on the maid's entrance, the lady, in a most delicate accent, ordered her servant to take the footstool, which the actress was then resting one foot upon,—carry it there, thus the lady pointing to the corner of the room, ordered; put my footstool there; that the man (pointing to me) may set upon it, and read his play to me, and bring my eau-deluce, and my aether bottle.

Then, in the most engaging attitude, she reclined herself upon the couch, on which she had before been seated, and looked like one of those fine figures at the print shops, of Venus, or a Madona, or some singing or dancing lady in a repose, And those graving and etchings are done by some great man, or after some great man's manner, as we are told in the catalogues by auctioneers and picture-dealers, who have such universal capacities, it is impossible for them to be mistaken.

They are the loadstones of connoisseurship. The only judges of genius. Counsellors of taste. Determiners of merit. Interpreters of science; and leading-strings, baits, bits, curbs, spurs, whips, wheels, levers, pullies, and primum mobiles, for every lady and gentleman of fortune, who chuse to be trammell'd into taste, and be ambled about as connoisseur's hobby-horses.

Before I had read a page of my play, the lady interrupted me, finding great fault with my tones, with my emphasis, and my accents.

Swinging herself off the couch, she arose with a graceful dignity, becoming a Penelope; the gold fringe of her slippers playing to her feet, her silk train sweeping along the carpet; then flourishing her white handkerchief, the lady spoke three or four speeches of Calista, to show me how people ought to deliver tragedy. After that, when she had again seated herself, as she looked into the lid of her patch-box, she enquired if I had seen her play all her characters, and which I liked her best in.

My reply was (for I had a hint given me, not to be sparing of compliments) that where every one was excellent, it was impossible to perceive an inferiority.

She smiled, with the utmost complacency, upon me; she took my MSS. promised me it should be done, and suffered me, kneeling, to salute the back of her hand, as I took my leave; but meeting at the door a person very richly dressed, I was ordered to walk in again.

This visitor to the lady was in a velvet coat, embroidered; a gold tissue waistcoat, embroidered; and every other part of his apparel equally rich. I took particular notice of his watch chain, it was remarkably long, and as remarkably filled; for I counted no less than ten various seals, and toys in different shapes, upon it.

The gentleman was a very eminent haberdasher, and a great friend of the lady's, as I heard afterwards. He stared at me also; full as much as I had been stared at before—then turning to the gentlewoman, he asked her, in very ill pronounced French, Who the Devil I was?

She replied, an author.

I thought so, he replied, still in French; and swore a great oath, at the same time—I thought he was a shabby genius, of some sort, or another—but now my angel we'll have some fun with this fellow, I ha'ant roasted a scribbler a great while: for damn me, if these authors, not one in a hundred of um, have any thing to say to a gentleman as they should do; because they are blockheads, and ought to be caned, kicked, or dragged through a horse-pond; for what business have they to think about their betters.

I would not discover to him or the lady, that what they said in French, was understood by me; but allowed him to the length of his tether, without interruption; and he accordingly assumed all that contemptuous behaviour, that unworthy insolence, which the wearers of fine cloaths conceit they have a power to bestow on the wearers of plain ones.

Hear what their honours ALL say.

Every person must be a scoundrel, a Lyar, pitiful, illiterate, damned contemptible, despicable, filthy, fulsome, horrid, vile, vulgar, base, odious, and one of the MOB, who is not a person of fortnne, fashion or family,—vide the world.

The fine dressed gentleman haberdasher feating himself by the lady, his leg across her lap, putting one hand to his side, and with the other chinking the seals at his watch chain—yawn'd— then leaned back—yawn'd again—then bending suddenly forward, fixed his eyes full upon me; seeming, as Falstaff, says, to awe with a stare.

GENTLEMAN HABERDASHER.

And so, Sir,—this lady tells me you have— got—yawn—that you have got, looking at his shirt bosom buckle—that you have—yawn again—heigho—have got a play, Sir,—pray, Sir, where was you bred up, pray?

AUTHOR.

At Leyden.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

What, among the Dutch? drole enough, faith—a fine place to make plays in—butter, cheese, and Holland's gin are three fine ingredients for poetry—ha, ha, ha,—I suppose all the ladies in your piece are Dutch fros — yes, by g—d, I'll hold fifty on't, and all the fine gentleman, or mynheer-love-makers, if they quarrel, instead of drawing their swords, go to snicker de snee with one another.

LADY.

Dear, Mr. Caddus; my God!—I am immensely ashamed of you; how can you shock a gentleman so?

GENT. HABERDASHER.

Shock the gentleman; no, faith, he knows too much of the world for that; and I keep company at the Bedford, so often with the best writers in England—that sure, my dear, I must know how to behave to authors. Well, Sir, and so at Leyden you say — I suppose you studied the oriental sciences there?

AUTHOR.

The oriental languages, Sir?

GENT. HABERDASHER.

No, Sir, I mean the oriental sciences— I believe, I am too much acquainted with both sciences, and languages, to mistake one for t'other. The oriental arts and sciences, I mean; as to the oriental languages, I re'd um all, and every one, from the teutonick down to old Homer's Iliad, Odyssey, and his Telemachus.

LADY.

Pon my honour, Caddy, you must have had a vast education, my dear, to read so much, and remember things so.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

Faith, I never re'd much, po' my onner— I was rather a buck at school.—But I had a quicker way of study, I believe, than any other fellow ever had in the world—but a— Mr. Author—and so—don't you never write no songs?

AUTHOR.

Sometimes, Sir.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

O, then we'll have a song; come, Sir, sing one to the lady.

AUTHOR.

Indeed, Sir, I can't sing—I can't indeed, Sir.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

Nay, Sir, but I insist on it, to oblige the lady—to whom he then said in French, I know the fellow can't sing, 'cause I've heard him attempt it among Comus' court; but that is the fun on't, we'll make him expose himself.

LADY —reply'd in French.

For God's sake, my dear Merchant, don't ask him; I shall die with his noise; I am expiring with the head-ach already. — He sing! I am certain, poor Devil, he looks so down in the mouth, that he could only hymn the hundred Psalm, or a hanging stave for a Tyburn Penitent, on an Execution-day.

GENT. HABERDASHER, in French still.

Bravo, bravissimo, my angel—you have more wit than all the world.—Then bid him tell us a merry story, or desire he'll say something clever. Oh, damn it, that does for these genuisses at once.

LADY, in ditto.

He looks so disconsolate, he shocks me—

GENT. HABERDASHER, ditto repeated.

Well now, you shall have a drole scene, my 〈…〉.

Then, in English.

And so, Sir, I suppose you live by writing?

AUTHOR.

I endeavour to maintain myself and family, Sir, by every exertion of my small capacity, that honesty and industry will warrant.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

And pray, Sir, what can you get a year by writing?

AUTHOR.

As to that, Sir—

GENT. HABERDASHER.

Ay, as to that, Sir—Oh, mum, a word to the wise is enough—You are not willing to confess, because you are afraid I should want to borrow a hundred of you.—Why, Sir, my credit's pretty good; and if you was to lend me a cool thousand, I'd give you 4 per cent. and an eighth for it; I suppose, Sir, you are too conversant with the stocks, to be ignorant what that is a year?

LADY.

Lord, my dear—

GENT. HABERDASHER. In French, encore.

Nay, my angel, let me alone; for, upon my soul, if gentlemen were not now and then thus to mortify these fellows, and make them ashamed of themselves, for not having money, there would be no bearing them. I have a great mind to show him an eighteen shilling piece, and a guinea, and ax him, what's the difference? I'll hold six to four, he don't guess the first time.

LADY.

Let me perish then, but you will be immensely wrong, and barbarously absurd; you see, he turns pale, and red, every minute; I'm sure he's hurt enough already.

GENT. HABERDASAER.

Well, mum then, I suppose, Sir, in your play, you have been critically exact, in the preservation of the unities; and you have seen what Aristotle and Bossu says upon that subject; for that's what I blame Shakespear for; the fellow had a fine knack at metaphor, faith, but he never understood the unities: now if he had but have been a scholar, and could have read what Aristotle and Bossu says.

AUTHOR.

Aristotle, to the best of my remembrance, says—

GENT. HABERDASHER.

Ay, I know as well as you do what—but that's nothing now to the purpose, what either Aristotle, or his Brother the Stagyrite, says—I speak how things should be done. Dam it, there's nobody, but gentlemen, that can either write or judge, for that matter. I wish it was not quite so damned scandalous to be either an author, or a scholar. There are about twelve of us that would and could restore the Drama to that original purity, which the divine Plato, the preceptor of Socrates and Plautus, says, the stage ought to be preserved in.

AUTHOR.

Under favour, Sir, I did not think Plato was much attach'd to dramatic poetry, any more than he was to Homer; whom I can't think he uses so well.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

What doesn't Plato use Homer well?—that's false, Mr. Author, you must allow me to tell you —I beg pardon, but I know better—why Plato is the best friend Homer ever had.

AUTHOR.

But I mean, Sir, that Plato, who was disciple to Socrates.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

Pho, pho, Mr. Author, we an't to be humm'd so, neither; you're devilishly out; there never was but one Plato, and he taught Socrates all he know'd; and if you have a mind for a bett, you shall have your sum on't. This Plato, my dear Betsy, was cotempre with the first primitive fathers.

LADY.

Pray, my dear, were they poets or playwriters.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

No, my dear, they were what was called the Christian philosophers, in opposition to the heathen philosophers; and this Socrates we have been talking of he was burned for his religion, because he turned christian.

LADY.

Let me perish, my dear, if your memory isn't astonishing; I shall be jealous by and by, that you have so much learning in your head, it must prevent you from thinking of me.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

Never, by all that's soft, I swear, upon which be kissed the lady, and turned to me, with a look of happy consequence, as much as to tell me, what would you give, could you do so?

I suppose, Mr. Author, that you must have heard of Sophocles and Empedocles.

AUTHOR.

Yes, Sir.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

I re'd all their works at college, both their Tragedies and Comedies; and though I never look'd into um since, I only wish I had a hundred on't, that I couldn't say um all by heart, without missing an apostrophe. And so, I suppose, you have heard of Terence and Euripides, and Lucan's true history. Swift stole every line of Gulliver from him, to my knowledge.

LADY.

Well, this conversation is to me immensely agreeable, and dear Caddy, you are the most surprising creature.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

My soul's affection, I do believe, nay, without vanity, I am sure on't, that if I had a mind to't, I could have made a greater figure as a scholar, or a writer, than any on um. But I was always above such slovenly pedantic notions; authors are very well, when a man has a mind to make a lady a present of a song, or an acros •ic; why then such fellows are useful; because they take the trouble of composing these things off of a gentleman's hands; and books, now and then of a rainy day, are well enough; but at other times, they are damned low dull stuff.—But I beg pardon, Mr. Author, for talking French so.

AUTHOR.

Oh, Sir, a gentleman has a right to converse in what language he pleases.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

That's true, Sir, and therefore you and I now will have a little Latin together—You remember Horace, his advice about discipline. ‘Qui mihi Discipulus Puer es cupis atque doceri,’

AUTHOR.

Sir, I beg to be excused, but that is not in Horace.

GENT. HABERDASHER.

Not Horace—that's a fine hum, indeed, not Horace: what the Devil, sure I know Horace a little better than you. I thought I should find you out—why, doesn't he go on, and say,

‘Hoc ades huc Amino, concupedictis tuo.’

Up then he started, looked in the peer glass, and stroked his eye-brows gently.

The lady, at that instant, standing with her back to him, told me,—Sir, this gentleman is a prodigious scholar, and you must submit to him in these things, I assure you. But I could see, that she winked at me while she said this. I would have taken the hint, but flesh and Blood could not bear to give up Horoce to Qui mihi. Emboldened by the lady's signal, I told him, that perhaps, as gentlemen were not obliged to read so much as authors were, his memory might not be—

GENT. HABERDASHER.

O dam it, Sir, as to that, I have a better memory than any man in England, and those two lines I spoke are Horace's, and I'll bet you 50 l. on't; and out he pulled a green purse, seemingly full of money; which, in his eagerness, he let fall upon the tea-table, and broke a cup and saucer, belonging to a set of French china, that had been presented to the lady by a former lover; and which set she told the gentleman, she would not have had destroyed for 500 pounds.

A strange scene of altercation ensued, reproaches rose high between them—until the gallant, swore several of the most horrid oaths, profaneness could put together, that he never would speak to her again; and hurried out of the room, bouncing the door after him, as violently, as if, like Sampson, he would shake the house down about us.

After the passionate departure of her friend, the lady addressed herself to me—but in a manner, different from that she received me with.

Affectation was away—the haughtiness of the actress was banished; and only the fine woman of affability appeared.

Desiring me to sit down, with a look, that spoke the most delicate sensibility; the lady told me—I believe, Sir, I am not the only person in this room, whom the hot-headed man, that has just left it, made uneasy this morning; for if I guess right, your face told me, you understood every thing he said to me in French about you.

AUTHOR.

Indeed, madam, I understood every syllable.

LADY.

I thought so, by heavens! I thought so, I admire your behaviour, Sir, and will endeavour to recompence you, for the pain of mind I am conscious you must have endured; too much I feel of that myself; what are all diamonds, equipage, fine furniture, and elegance of dress, when the mind, retreating into itself, shrinks back ashamed to reflect on the means by which those are purchased. Yet I must act the hypocrite, I must conform—conform to those I hate, nay worse—bear with rich stupidity, applaud with seeming attention, arrogant dulness; and flatter, even fondly flatter, indelicate folly. Sure of all slavery, mine is the worst! where the will is not left free; what is—

Thus she gave vent to her reflections; as she walked up and down the room, tears following one another, down the damask of her cheeks, transparent as dew drops, upon the rose leaf.

At that moment, her lover, the gentleman haberdasher returned, and discovering her crying, run to her, took her in his arms, forced her to the settee, and kneeling down before her, begged her to forgive him; desiring her to accept of a ring he held out to her, and vowing, that had he known his leaving her so abruptly, would have so deeply affected her, he would not have done it for all the world.

The lady's face at this time seemed agitated with astonishment, and disdain, by turns; but I had not an opportunity any longer to observe it. Her friend addressing me that instant, with, you'll excuse us this morning Mr. Writer, I shall be glad to see you some other time.

Exit. Cannon.

The DEDICATORY SPECIMEN.

Assured of my play being presented, I sought some time for a proper person to dedicate it to; one from whom I could expect the greatest advantages; one, who could do me great service, if I did but properly apply myself, and blazon forth his merits to the WORLD.

I had a sufficient quantity of matter by me which I had abstracted from the Greek, Roman, and French panegyricks; and also from the works of most of our best writers, upon religion; from whom I had borrowed the choicest phrases, which they made use of in their addresses to the Divinity. All these things I had ready marshalled, to appear in rank and file, before the public, in behalf of my patron, as soon as I could find one.

Being for some time troubled with bad eyes, because the room where I write, lay, and cook my victuals, smokes terribly; and as I dread blindness more than any other distemper, I gave up all thoughts of baiting my works with great mens defence, and turn pension or place fisher.

I considered my natural defects ought to be first remedied; therefore to the OCCULIST CHEVALIER TAYLOR, SENIOR, I addressed the following dedication.

TO THE PRIME GENIUS Of this AGE; Professor of the Art of Teaching the Passions, and unparallelled Adventurer.

SIR,

THE Performance I here offer to the Public, under the Sanction of your Name, is an extraordinary Work, and therefore should be addressed to an extraordinary Man.

You have distinguished yourself as such through the whole Course of an unblameable Life.

A Friend to the Ladies you have been, as your Works confess; but your Love of them has arisen from your being able to taste their genuine Beauties.

No Countryman of yours, or of any other great Man can I be—I was born at Sea.—National flattery therefore am I free from—I only do scanty Justice to the Man, not only as a Man, but also a Minister, or Administrator of the greatest of Blessings, and which concludes the Happiness of a whole People.

You have opened the Eyes of all the World; taught both Sexes to look about them; placed them perspectively in a proper Point of Sight to see, and also to be seen.

Though some Persons may blame you—as Blackguards will be abusive—don't mind the Mob now—a hundred Years hence you'll be out of the Hearing on't—then you'll have (and a fine Satisfaction it is to be told on't) what no Popularity can give —no temporary Wants destroy—you will then have every Thing in the World a Dedicator can bestow upon you; for who the Devil dare contradict him?

The Day you was born (if eyer that Day was) was the brightest Period of British Glory.

The Doubt I have of your Birth, arises from my supposing you to be the unborn Doctor; one who sprung spontaneous among us—to be—ay, or not to be; just what himself and the conscious Rectitude of a right Mind pleases.

In the political Science of Perspective—the Point of Sight, Point of Distance, and vanishing Line, properly investigated, are as follows;

The Point of Sight is Preferment.

The Point of Distance, is what Length your Patron will go to serve you.

The vanishing Line is Hope.

All these multiplied in a proper Modus, form

Mr. Hogarth's Line of Beauty.

And that Praise, in all its Parts, as well as in the whole, for the honour of every Country, is almost exclusively your own:

Therefore, to the Importance of your Mightiness, Prostrate at the Threshold of your Munificence, Do I Asiatically bow my Head; Hallelujahing your Honour, and Honours; And may your scientific Brow, Nod Benignly, On the Insignificancy Of your most humble, And most submissive Servant, and Slave, The AUTHOR.

First Chapter of the Continuation of the History of NEDDY, &c.
How Master Edward was to be brought up.

THE morning following the gossipping scene. David and his lady, at breakfast, consulted together upon the most proper methods for educating their son and heir.

DAVID.

To be sure, and indeed, my dear wife, I do suppose you will suckle the child yourself.

Mrs. LLWHUDDWHYDD.

You do? then, my dear, you are guilty of a very indelicate supposition. Are ladies of fashion to turn wet-nurses, and have their heads horridly distracted by the noise of the nursery, or vapoured to death with cradle-rockings? is it taste? — I ask you, my dear, upon your honour, is it taste, for me, who come of such a family as I am come from, to have a child dangling at my breast, as beggars carry their brats. Nay, is it for your honour, your wife should appear so? you, who come of so good a family.

DAVID.

Yes, thank God; and good providence, I do come of the most ancientest family, that ever was born.

Mrs. LLWHUDDWHYDD.

There, my dear, you must be wrong; immensely wrong, upon my honour.—Your family may be the more ancienter in England; but my family is from America; we were the ancestors of five original nations of the SENEKAS, from whom came the CHIKASAS, from whom came the CATAWAWS, from whom came the CHEROKEES.

DAVID.

But I tell you my family is the most ancientest in the world; ay, and in America to boot; for they did go into the Ark, as game-keepers to squire Noah; and his worship's son did marry queen Winifred; and from whom came the Cadwalladers; and from whom came the Tudors; and from whom came the Llwhuyddwhuydds.

She

Ay, and from my family came the Cherokee, and the

Both together.

Rikketis, and the Mohawks, and the Tomahawks.

He.

And from mine the ap Morgaus, ap Jenkins, ap Rice, ap Jones, ap —

Then they raised their voices at the same time, louder and louder, until out of breath, and black in the face, they stood speechless, staring at one another, like a pair of pitted turkeycocks.

The lady first recovered, and giving her husband a look, blended with scorn and reproach, that look, which fine women know so well how to wear (beating a tatoo with her feet, and hitting the tea-spoon upon the edge of a saucer) thus she addressed him.

I am sorry, Sir, that I should so far forget myself, as to contend with you about families. Upon my honour, I shall, for the future, take care how I ever enter into any such arguments with you, and immediately fell into a violent fit of the sullens.

Had I but time to analyse that distemper, and point out the methods of cure, how happy should I make many husbands? but a more interesting scene presents itself, viz.

David, kneeling at his wife's feet, most pathetically begging her to be good to him, to speak to him, to look at him, or let him take hold of her hand.

But all his address was vain—vain, as the petition distress presents; vain, as the hopes of wit; or pretensions of undower'd beauty and virtue.

Mr. Llwhuddwhuydd was forced, before the preliminaries could be signed, to give up (upon his knees) every original branch of his family, and allow, both lineally and collaterally, the superiority of his lady's ancestry.

Mrs. LLWHUDDWHUYDD.

I beg, my dear husband, now you'll rise, — I chuse it—there's my hand, I offer it to you as a token, I don't take any thing ill,—I forget and forgive; it is taste to do so; and I'll suffer death, before I would be impolite. But pray, husband, how will you have our child brought up?

DAVID.

He shall be put to school, as soon as he goes into breeches; and he shall be kept at learning, Latin and Greek for 12 or 14 years, to be sure; because I will have him a great scholar, and then I will bind him prentice—

Mrs. LLWHUDDWHUYDD.

No, excuse me—he may be a scholar, indeed; I am not against that; because, perhaps one day, or another, such a thing may be taste. But I renounce his being 'prentice, there's something so vulgar in it, — no, let him go into the army. I am certain, that as you have carried such a number of people of fashion, for so many years; and as they are under great obligations to you, for the care you have always took of them, they would not deny you such a small favour, as to give your son a commission.

DAVID.

But for all that, my dear, I would have him a scholar: ay, he shall be a genius too.

Mrs. LLWHYDDWHUYDD.

Dear Mr. Llwhyddwhuydd, I shall faint at the very name of a genius—my God! a genius!—what shall my eldest son, the hopes of two such families as ours, be made a genius? why, at best a genius can but be a jack of all trades; and as to his making his fortune by genius; why, you may as well say, the sun shines at midnight. Is not every genius despised by the politest people; do not the persons of quality call creatures so out of contempt, my God! did you ever know any body of fashion a genius — no, Mr. Llwhuddwhuydd, instead of bringing your son up a genius, let him be a gentleman; let him keep gentlemen company, not but, I must say, if his genius could turn to politics—

DAVID.

And please God so it shall; I will bind him 'prentice to a politician; and when he is out of his time, he can set up for himself, and provide for his relations.

Enter MISS SHRED and DOCTOR NOSTRUM.

Miss SHRED.

Dear creatures, excuse me coming in so suddenly—but I promised, you know, last night, to bring a great physician, and my friend, to prevent your son, Mr. David, ever feeling any pain, or being in any danger, while he was cutting his teeth—give me leave, therefore, to introduce the only man in the world, that has any sort of skill, to you,—he knows more than the whole college of doctors put together; and they envy'd him—so they wou'dn' give him his degrees without his undergoing an examination—but he was above that; therefore he went down to Edinburgh—there they knew better—he had his certificate signed at once, and now he practices here, in spite of all the London doctors—and what is very wonderful, he took physick entirely out of his own head, for he never was brought up to it.

DAVID.

No.

DOCTOR.

No, Sir, I discovered it all myself—I scorn'd to be taught. I despise all the fellows of the faculty, they are ignorant pretenders, I have a genius above them all.

DAVID:

Ay, Ay, that's the thing—a genius—for a genius is above all learning, look you, as much as God is above the Devil, bless us!

DOCTOR.

Ladies, let me beg your attention, while I plainly demonstrate to you the nature of childrens teeth-cutting.

Hyppocrates and Celsus declare, infants are subject to the aphthae, phoboï, diarrhaeas and paroxysms upon cutting their canine teeth. Hernius tells us of inflammatory tonsils, tumours of the parotid glands, or saturiasmoi, which may be, I think, the achor. — Now Aetius says,—

DAVID.

Never mind what Mr. Aetius says, Sir, no more than an cracked chair-pole; for you do say such fine things yourself about Hyppocrates, that I would give all I was worth in the world, if I could but talk so learnedly.

DOCTOR.

This lady's— (pulling a phial out of his pocket) this is the MAGNETICA TINCTURA SACRA; the LOADSTONE ELIXIR; or ANODYNE SPECIFIC. With this, if you wash the infant's feet, it will attract all the morbid, foul and peccant humours from the child's head, and your son shall cut his teeth as easily—as—as—

DAVID.

Ay, it stands to reason, as easy as I can cut an onion—it must—I have read about loadstones—and my magazines do tell me about Sir Isaac Newton's attraction. Yes, yes, well God help me, I have studied and studied a great deal, yet never can be a great man, because, doctor, I have not a genius.

Which observation we beg the reader will memento, and endeavour to become a genius; it is a sure and certain estate to him; as for example, this doctor Nostrum, to whom, and the rest of the Nostrumists, who, without understanding or experience, education or capacity, so publickly advertise, and vend their unwholesome compositions to the detriment of the credulous multitude, and reproach of those, who have power to prevent such scandalous impostors.

FINIS.

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Title statement

The dramatic history of Master Edward: Miss Ann, Mrs. Llwhuddwhydd, and others. The extraordinaries of these times. Collected from Zaphaniel's original papers. Illustrated with copper-plates.

Stevens, George Alexander, 1710-1784.

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http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/5000

ID [isbn10]

1106019997

ID [isbn13]

9781106019998

ID [TCP]

K093280.000

ID [BIBNO]

cw3310852650

ID [ECLL]

0187700100

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— The dramatic history of Master Edward: Miss Ann, Mrs. Llwhuddwhydd, and others. The extraordinaries of these times. Collected from Zaphaniel's original papers. Illustrated with copper-plates., Stevens, George Alexander, 1710-1784.. [2],2,192p.,plates ; 12⁰. London :: printed for T. Waller,. 1743 [1763]. [Zaphaniel = George Alexander Stevens.] [This Waller edition was listed in the London Magazine in 1763, confirming that the imprint date is erroneous.] [The 2p. folllowing the titlepage contain: 'Zaphaniel's exhortation ..'.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT116476.] [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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