Front matter

The Augustan Reprint Society

CHARLES MACKLIN

A WILL AND NO WILL, OR A Bone for the Lawyers. (1746) THE NEW PLAY CRITICIZ'D, OR The Plague of Envy. (1747)

Introduction by Jean B. Kern

PUBLICATION NUMBERS 127-128 WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY University of California, Los Angeles 1967

GENERAL EDITORS

George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles

Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles

Robert Vosper, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library

ADVISORY EDITORS

Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan

James L. Clifford, Columbia University

Ralph Cohen, University of Virginia

Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles

Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago

Louis A. Landa, Princeton University

Earl Miner, University of California, Los Angeles

Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota

Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles

Lawrence Clark Powell, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library

James Sutherland, University College, London

H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles

CORRESPONDING SECRETARY

Edna C. Davis, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library

Transcriber's Note: Footnote markers are missing for notes 9, 10, and 11 in the Notes to the Plays.

INTRODUCTION

The manuscript copies of these two plays by Charles Macklin, A WILL AND NO WILL, OR A BONE FOR THE LAWYERS (1746) and THE NEW PLAY CRITICIZ'D, OR THE PLAGUE OF ENVY (1747), are in the Larpent Collection of the Huntington Library along with a third afterpiece The Covent Garden Theatre, or Pasquin Turn'd Drawcansir (1752) already reproduced in facsimile as Number 116 of the Augustan Reprint Society. [1] Since the introduction to Covent Garden Theatre (ARS 116) already gives general biographical information on this actor-playwright, Charles Macklin, as well as an indication of the revived interest in his plays, this introduction will be limited to the two afterpieces here reproduced.

A WILL AND NO WILL, OR A BONE FOR THE LAWYERS (Larpent 58) was first produced in 1746 and revived many times up to March 29, 1756, unlike The Covent Garden Theatre which was given only one performance in 1752. The Larpent manuscript 58 copy of A WILL AND NO WILL bears the handwritten application of James Lacy to the Lord Chamberlain for permission to perform the farce for Mrs. Macklin's benefit. It was first performed at the Drury Lane Theatre April 23, 1746, following Humours of the Army. [2] Sometimes advertised with a different subtitle as A WILL AND NO WILL, OR A NEW CASE FOR THE LAWYERS, [3] it was revived March 22, 1748, for Macklin's own benefit and apparently was more popular in the revival since it was repeated five more times on March 29, 31 and April 11, 21, 22. [4] The last performance listed in The London Stage, Part 4, II, 535, was for Macklin's daughter's benefit on March 29, 1756.

Macklin's two-act farce, A WILL AND NO WILL, is based on Regnard's five-act comedy le Legetaire Universel (1707), which is itself a composite of Italian comedy with echoes of Molière, moving from scene to scene with little effort at logical consistency or structure but treating each scene autonomously for its own comic value. [5] Macklin condensed and tightened Regnard's five-act plot into a two-act afterpiece; the role of the apothecary is greatly reduced into the stock London-stage Frenchman, du Maigre, who can barely speak English; the servant Lucy is more the English maid than the French bonne of the Regnard play who gave orders to her master; and the satire of Macklin's afterpiece is directed not only at lawyers and physicians, as in the Regnard play, but at Methodist itinerant preachers. Finally Macklin's plot was both complicated and tightened by having the lawyers summoned to draw up the marriage contract, also take down the will of the supposed Skinflint, thus making the marriage a condition of the will.

The rather long Prologue to A WILL AND NO WILL (11 pages of manuscript) makes fun of the convention of the eighteenth century prologues by the familiar dodge of having two actors chatting as though they were in the Pit waiting for the actors in the main play to dress for the afterpiece. The conversation of the Prologue is enlivened by the appearance of an Irish lawyer come to see the play about lawyers. His impossibly long name, Laughlinbulhuderry-Mackshoughlinbulldowny, contains hints of Macklin's own name, and this is also one of Macklin's wonderful Irishmen who never acted except in school where he spoke the Prologue, he says, of one of Terence's tragedies when the play was over. His mispronunciations and inaccuracies put him at the head of the list of stage Irishmen whom Macklin, an Irishman himself, could portray with delight and authority.

Another feature of the long Prologue to this farce is Macklin's reference to the failure of his own tragedy Henry VII (1745), for Snarlewit proclaims that he never had so much fun in his life as at Macklin's "merry Tragedy." The ability to laugh at his own failure to construct a tragedy hastily in time to capitalize on the invasion attempt of 1745, together with his reference to his own name in his caricature of the Irish lawyer undoubtedly help explain the success of this farcical afterpiece.

Occasional marks of the Licenser on the manuscript, most notably opposite Shark's lines about statesmen at the end of Act I, are all underscored in the typescript of the play.

The second afterpiece here reproduced, THE NEW PLAY CRITICIZ'D, OR THE PLAGUE OF ENVY (Larpent 64), is an amusing bit of dramatic criticism of Benjamin Hoadly's The Suspicious Husband which had opened at the Covent Garden Theatre on February 12, 1747, and was given many times including performances on March 21, 24 and April 28, 30 of the same year. [6] Again the title page of the Macklin afterpiece bears the handwritten request of James Lacy, dated March 17, 1747, for the Lord Chamberlain's permission to perform the play for Macklin's benefit at Drury Lane on March 24. Both performances, then, of Macklin's closely related afterpiece, THE NEW PLAY CRITICIZ'D, were given at Drury Lane on nights when Hoadly's The Suspicious Husband was also being performed at the rival theatre, March 24 and April 30, 1747. It was even possible for a spectator to see Hoadly's play at Covent Garden and then catch Macklin's related farcical afterpiece at the Drury Lane Theatre on the same night. Or if that required too difficult a change of locus, it was still possible to see The Suspicious Husband on March 21 or April 28 and THE SUSPICIOUS HUSBAND CRITICIZ'D (as Macklin's play is entitled in James T. Kirkman's Memoirs of the Life of Charles Macklin, Esq., II, 443) a few days later on March 24 or April 30; such was the immediacy of the appeal of Macklin's afterpiece.

While Macklin was capitalizing on the popularity of a new play, he also, in THE NEW PLAY CRITICIZ'D, gave ironic portraits of rival playwrights who damned a play out of envy (note the subtitle, THE PLAGUE OF ENVY) for such trivial faults as the use of suspicious instead of jealous in the title, or for the lacing of Ranger's hat. Macklin's satiric portraits of such envious scribblers who were ready to attack any new author in Journals, Epigrams, and Pamphlets are lively records of mid-eighteenth century subjective criticism. Canker, the envious playwright in the afterpiece, calls Ranger "a Harlequin" and Mr. Strickland, "Columbine's husband." Canker objects to the escapes, scenes in the dark, and the rope ladder, though the young lovers, Heartly and Harriet in Macklin's afterpiece, vow the ladder is a device they themselves will use if Harriet is forced by her aunt to marry Canker. Again an Irishman, Sir Patrick Bashfull, enlivens the farce by his pretense of being a Frenchman, Fitzbashfull, "of Irish distraction." Bashfull's literal criticism of Hoadly's play serves as a good foil for the carping criticism of the envious playwrights: Plagiary, Grubwit, and Canker; or the nonsense of the foolish critics: Nibble and Trifle. The farce ends with Canker completely routed and Heartly's suggestion that their hour's conversation would make a petit piece in itself if Lady Critick would only write it down.

The limited appeal of this kind of related, topical afterpiece probably explains why it was performed only twice, following a performance of Hamlet on March 24, 1747, for Macklin's benefit, and following Julius Caesar on April 30, 1747, for the benefit of Garrick who had appeared as Ranger in the original cast of Hoadly's play. The separate Prologue to Macklin's afterpiece is addressed to Mr. Macklin in Bow Street, Covent Garden, and attributed to Hely Hutcheson, Provost of Trinity College by William Cooke's Memoirs of Charles Macklin, Comedian (1804), p. 152.

These two afterpieces, A WILL AND NO WILL (1746) and THE NEW PLAY CRITICIZ'D (1747) along with Covent Garden Theatre (1752), ARS 116, bring up to date the publication of Charles Macklin's unpublished work. It is to be hoped that a definitive critical edition of his writing for the eighteenth-century stage will soon follow.

A word should be added about the editor's changes of these two plays in the typescript. From the facsimile edition of Macklin's Covent Garden Theatre (ARS 116) it should already be evident that Macklin's scribes in these three plays in the Larpent Collection were inconsistent both in spelling and punctuation. The Covent Garden Theatre appeared in facsimile in response to requests for an eighteenth-century facsimile for use in graduate seminars, because of the clarity of its handwriting. The other two plays are here reproduced in typescript since the condition of the manuscripts made facsimile reproduction unfeasible. In the preparation of the typescript for these remaining two plays, certain problems had of necessity to be decided arbitrarily. Wherever it was possible, the manuscript spelling has been preserved. Punctuation and capitals had to be altered where sentences were run together or new sentences began with small letters. The number of capital letters was reduced since these followed no consistent pattern for emphasis and varied between the scribes of the manuscripts. Nouns were left capitalized to preserve the eighteenth-century flavor. Proper names have been corrected to a recognizable form (Ranelagh for Renelagh, Zoilus for Ziolus, for example); French phrases have been left in the manuscript spelling for those characters who misuse French, such as Sir Patrick Bashfull in THE NEW PLAY CRITICIZ'D. The occasional confusions of characters or speakers have been corrected, with separate notes explaining each change. All marks of the Licenser are in italics; all words or letters interpolated by the editor are in brackets; all stage directions are in parentheses. Applications by the Theatre Manager, James Lacy, for permission to perform the plays, appear in notes.

Coe College

NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION

A WILL AND NO WILL:

OR

A BONE FOR THE LAWYERS [1]

PROLOGUE

DRAMATIS PERSONAE for the Prologue

RATTLE

SMART

DULLMAN

IRISHMAN

SNARLEWIT

(The Curtain rises and discovers the Stage disposed in the Form of a Pit and crowded with Actors who make a great Noise by Whistling and Knocking for the Farce to begin)

Rattle. Consume them, why don't they begin?

Smart. I suppose some of them that were in the Play are dressing for the Farce.

Rattle. Psha! damn the Farce! They have had time enough to dress since the Play has been over.

Smart. Dick Rattle, were you at the Boxing Match yesterday?

Rattle. No, my Dear, I was at the breakfasting at Ranelagh.—Curse catch me, Jack [2], if that is not a fine Woman in the upper Box there, ha!

Smart. So she is, by all that's charming,—but the poor Creature's married; it's all over with her.

Rattle. Smart, do you go to Newmarket this meeting,—upon my Soul that's a lovely Woman on the right hand. But what the Devil can this Prologue be about, I can't imagine. It has puzzled the whole Town.

Smart. Depend upon it, Dick, it is as I said.

Rattle. What's that?

Smart. Why one of the Fransique's, the French Harlequin's Jokes; you will find that one of the Players come upon the Stage presently, and make a[n] Apologie that they are disappointed of the Prologue, upon which Macklin, or some other Actor is to start up in the Pit, as one of the Audience, and bawl out that rather than so much good Company should be disappointed, he will speak a Prologue himself.

Rattle. No, no, no, Smart. That's not it. I thought of that and have been looking carefully all over the Pit, and there is not an Actor in it. Now I fancy it is to be done like the Wall or the Man in the Moon in Pyramus and Thisbe; Macklin will come in dressed like the Pit and say:

Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!

Smart. By Gad, Rattle, I fancy you have hit it. What do you think, Mr. Dullman?

Omnes. Ay, let us have Mr. Dullman's Opinion of it.

Dull. Why really, Gentlemen, I have been thinking of it ever since I first read it in the Papers—and I fancy—though to be sure, it was very difficult to find out—but at last, I think I have hit upon it.

Smart. Well, well, my dear Dullman, communicate.

Dull. I suppose there is some Person here among us whose name is Pit, and that he will get up presently and speak a Prologue.

Omnes. O, O, O, O, O, Shocking! Shocking! Well conjectured, Dullman.

Rattle. Harkee, Jack, [let's] bam the Irishman. Ask him if he knows anything of it.

Smart. Don't you laugh then; he'll smoak us if you do; keep your Countenance, and I'll engage I'll pitch-kettle him. Pray Sir, do you know anything of this Prologue?

Irish. Who, me? Not upon my Honour. I know no more of it than he that made it.

Smart. A Gentleman was saying just before the Play was over that you were to be the Pit and to speak the Prologue; is there any truth in it, Sir?

Irish. No indeed, Sir, it is as false as the Gospel. I do assure you, Sir, I never spoke a Pit or Prologue in my Life—but once when I was at School, you must know, Sir,—we acted one of Terence's Tragedies there, so when the Play was over I spoke the Prologue to it.

Omnes. Ha! ha! ha! ha!

Smart. I remember your Face very well. Pray Sir, don't you belong to the Law?

Irish. Yes, at your Service, Sir—and so did my Father and Grandfather before me, and all my Posterity. I myself solicit Cause at the old Bailey and Hick's Hall, so I am come to see this BONE FOR THE LAWYERS, because they say it is a Pun upon us Gentlemen of the long Robe.

Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!

Rattle. He is a poor ridiculous Fellow, Jack (aside); he is as great a Teague as Barrington himself.

Smart. Hush! Hush! Pray Sir, may I crave your name?

Irish. Yes you may indeed and welcome, Sir. My name is Laughlinbullruderrymackshoughlinbulldowny, at your Service. And if you have any Friend who is indicted for Robbery or Murder at any time or has any other Law Suits upon his Hands at the old Bailey or Hick's Hall, I should be proud to serve you and to be concerned in the Cause likewise.

Smart. Whenever I have a Friend in such Circumstances, you may depend upon being retained.

Irish. Sir, I'll assure you no megrim. England understands the Practice of those Courts better than myself. I know my Croaker upon all the In res and for an Evidence, the Devil a Man in Westminster Hall can tell an Evidence what to say better than I that shits here; or hark you, if you should happen to want a Witness upon Occasion, I believe, Sir, I could serve you.

Smart. I am infinitely obliged to you. (Bowing)

Irish. Sir, I am your most obsequious. (Bowing)

Rattle. But pray Sir, what kind of Prologue do you think we shall have tonight?

Irish. Why I believe it will be a kind of Prologue that will be spoken by the Pit.

Rattle. Ay, that we suppose but in what Manner?

Irish. Why I am come here on purpose to know that, but I suppose it will be in the manner of—a—a—by my Shoul I don't know how it will be.

Smart. Upon my word, Sir, I think you give a very clear Account of it.

Rattle. Jack, yonder's Snarlewit, the Poet and intimate Friend of Macklin's; you are acquainted with him. Prithee call him; ten to one but he can give us the History both of the Prologue and the Farce.

Smart. Hiss, Mr. Snarlewit, we have Room for you here, if you will come and set by us; do you know Snarlewit, Dick?

Rattle. He is a devilish odd Fellow; he is one that never speaks well of any Man behind his back nor ill of him to his Face and is a most terrible Critick.

(SNARLEWIT steps over the Benches and sits down between RATTLE and SMART)

Snarle. Mr. Smart, your Servant. How do you do, Mr. Rattle? What, you are come to hear the Pit speak the Prologue, I suppose. Ha! Macklin's fine Conceit.

Smart. Ay, we are so; do you know anything of it?

Snarle. Psha! psha! a parcel of Stuff! a ridiculous Conceit of the Blockhead's in imitation of a French writer who stole it from one of the Greek Comic Poets.

Smart. But in what manner is it to be done? Is it in Prose or in Verse, or upon the Stage, or really in the Pit?

Snarle. Lord, Sir, the Blockhead brings the Pit upon the Stage; and the supposed Conversation there between the Play and the Farce is to be the Prologue,—a French Conceit calculated merely to raise Curiosity and fill the House, that's all.

Smart. Ay, and enough too, if it answers his purpose.

Irish. But pray, Sir, with humble Submission, if he brings the Pit up on the Stage, how shall we be able to see the Farce unless we go up into the Gallery?

Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!

Rattle. Very well observed, Sir.

Snarle. Why this Fellow's an Idiot.

Smart. No, no, he is only a Teague. But Mr. Snarlewit, do you think this Prologue will be liked?

Snarle. Psha! psha! liked, impossible! So it is for his Wife's Benefit and meant as a Puff to fill her House, why perhaps the Town may be so indulgent as to let it pass—but it is damned Trash! I advised the Fool against it. But he persisted. He said he was sure it would be better liked than the modern dull way of Prologue Writing which for many years has been only to give the Audience an Historical Account of the Comic Stoick or the Tragic Buskin, or a dull detail of the piece they were to see with the Age and Circumstances of the Author, and how long he was writing his Play. Now, says Macklin, my Prologue, Sir, if it has nothing else, it has Novelty on its side; and as Bays says it will elevate and surprize and all that. And if they don't laugh at it as a good Prologue, I am sure, says he, they will laugh at me for its being a bad one—so that either way they will have their Joke.

Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!

Smart. Ay, ay, there I think he was right; for the Audience will laugh, I make no doubt of it, but it will be at him.

Omnes. Right! Right!

Snarle. So I told him but he would persist.

Smart. But Mr. Snarlewit, how will he answer to the Critics his making the Stage represent the Pit?

Snarle. Psha! psha! he is below Criticism; they will never trouble themselves about that. Besides I think he may be defended very justly in that, for if the Stage has a Right to represent Palaces and Countries, nay, and Heaven and Hell, surely it may be allowed to exhibit the Pit.

Smart. Do you know anything of the Farce?

Snarle. Yes, I have read it.

Smart. It is a very odd Title, a Bone for the Lawyers; who is the Author, pray? Is it known?

Snarle. Why Macklin gives out that some Gentleman, a Friend of his, has made him a Present of it, but I shrewdly suspect it to be his own.

Rattle. Whose! Macklin's?

Snarle. Ay!

Rattle. Why, can he write?

Snarle. Write? Ay, and damnably too, I assure you, ha! ha! He writ a Tragedy this Winter, but so merry a Tragedy was never seen since the first night of Tom Thumb the Great.

Smart. I was at it and a merry Tragedy it was and a merry Audience!

Snarle. I never laughed so heartily at a Play in my Life; if his Farce has half so much Fun in it as his Tragedy had, I'll engage it succeeds.

Smart. Come, come. There was some tolerable Things in his Tragedy.

Snarle. Psha! psha! Stuff! Stuff! damned Stuff! Pray Sir, what do you think of Lady Catherine Gordon's Letter to her Father, Lord Huntley, that begun honoured Papa, hoping you are in good Health as I am at this present Writing. There was a Stile for Tragedy!

Omnes. Ha! ha! ha!

Smart. Well, I wish his Farce may succeed, however.

Snarle. O so do I upon my word, Sir.—I have a great Regard for Macklin—but to be sure he is a very egregious Blockhead ever to think of writing; that I believe everybody will allow.

Omnes. Ay, ay, there's nobody will dispute that with you, Mr. Snarlewit.

Snarle. Notwithstanding he is such a Blockhead, I assure you, Mr. Smart, I have an Esteem for him.

Smart. Do you know what Characters or Business he has in his Farce?

Snarle. I think his chief Character is an old Fellow, one Sir Isaac Skinflint, who is eaten up with Diseases, and who promises everybody Legacies, but dreads making a Will, for the Instant he does that he thinks he shall die.

Rattle. That's a very common Character; my Uncle was just such a superstitious Wretch.

Snarle. And the Business of the Farce is to induce this old Fellow to disinherit all his Relations, except a Nephew who wants to be his sole Heir, which according to the Rules of Farce, you may suppose it to be brought about by a Footman who upon these Occasions always has more Wit than his Master.

Smart. But when is the Prologue to begin?

Snarle. Why as soon as the Curtain is drawn up you will see the Stage disposed in the Form of a Pit, and that you are to imagine the Prologue, and when they let the Curtain down, why then you must suppose it to be ended.

Smart. I wonder what the Audience will say when it is over.

Snarle. What? Why some will stare and wonder what the Actors have been about, and will still be expecting the Prologue; others will chuckle at their Disappointment, and cry—they knew how it would be; and some will judiciously observe—what better could be expected from a Prologue to be written and spoken by the Pit. But upon the whole, I dare say, ninety nine in a hundred will conclude it to be a parcell of low Stuff—and that its only Merit was the quaintness of the Conceit [which] raised the People's Curiosity and helped to fill the House; and so ends the Prologue—and now let us make a Noise for the Farce.

(The Curtain is let down)

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

for

A WILL AND NO WILL:

OR A BONE FOR THE LAWYERS

SIR ISAAC SKINFLINT LADY LOVEWEALTH

BELLAIR HARRIET

DOCTOR LEATHERHEAD LUCY

COUNCELLOUR CORMORANT

MR. LITTLEWIT

MONSIEUR DU MAIGRE

MR. DEATH

SHARK

SERVANT

ACT I

(Enter SHARK and LUCY—meeting)

Shark. Good morrow, Lucy.

Lucy. Good morrow, Shark.

Shark. Give me a Kiss, Hussy. (Kisses her)

Lucy. Psha—prithee don't touzle and mouzle a Body so; can't you salute without rumpling one's Tucker and spoiling one's Things? I hate to be tumbled. (Adjusting herself)

Shark. Ay, as much as you do Flattery or a looking Glass.

Lucy. Well, what's your Business this Morning? Have you any Message?

Shark. Yes, the old one: my Master's Duty to his gracious Uncle, Sir Isaac Skinflint, and he hopes he rested well last night—that is, to translate it out of the Language of Compliment into that of Sincerity, he hopes the old Huncks has made his Will, my Master his sole Heir, that he has had a very bad Night, and is within a few Hours of giving up the Ghost and paying a Visit to his old friend Belzebub.

Lucy. We were afraid he would have gone off last night; he has had two of his Epileptic Feasts.

Shark. Why sure the old Cannibal would not offer to make his Exit without making his Will; that would ruin us all.

Lucy. Nay it would be a considerable Loss to me should he die without a Will: for you know he has promised me a handsome Legacy.

Shark. And so he has to Thousands, my Dear; why, Child, I don't believe he has spent thirty Shillings upon himself in Food for these thirty years; all gratis, all upon the Spunge. Ay, ay, let Sir Isaac Skinflint alone for mumping a Dinner. There has not been a Churchwarden's or an Overseer's Feast these twenty years but what he has been at. And when he is not at these Irish meals, he is preying upon his Friends and Acquaintances, and promises them all Legacies. "Well," he says, after he has filled his Paunch,—"I shall not forget you. I shall remember all my Friends. I have you down in my Will." Then he claps his hand upon the Servant's Head as he is going out—"I shall think of you too, John. You are my old Friend"—but the Devil a Louse he gives him; an old gouty Rogue! I'll warrant the old Hypocrite has promised more Legacies than the Bank of England is able to pay. Has he made any mention lately of his Nephew and Niece in the Country, Sir Roger Bumper and his Sister?

Lucy. He expects them in Town today, or tomorrow at farthest, and I believe he intends to make them joint Heirs with your Master.

Shark. He may intend it, but shall not accomplish it, take my word; if he does I'll never plot again. You say he has never seen neither the Nephew nor the Niece since they were Children?

Lucy. Never.

Shark. Then he shall see them in my proper Person before he sleeps, and if I don't make him disinherit them, say I am a Fool and know nothing of Mankind.

Lucy. Here your Master comes.

Shark. He's welcome.

(Enter BELLAIR)

Bell. O Lucy, we are all undone.

Lucy. Bless us; what's the matter, Sir?

Bell. I am just come from my Lady Lovewealth's, who, to my great Surprize, has assured me that my Addresses to her Daughter for the future will be highly improper, for that my Uncle had not only refused to make such a Settlement on me as she liked, but had resolved to marry Harriet himself.

Lucy. Pray Sir, what says the young Lady to all this?

Bell. She seems to comply with her Mother's avaricious Temper, but has vowed to me privately that should matters be brought to an Extremity, she will never consent.

Lucy. You, Sir, must act the same part; seem to approve of the Marriage by all means, for the more you oppose, the more violent they will be. Trust the affair to Shark and me, and I'll engage we bring you together in spite of Age and Avarice. I'll give the young Lady a hint or two, which I believe will cure the old Fellow of his Lovefit! Shark, go you and prepare your Disguises; do you act the Nephew and the Niece well and I'll warrant everything else shall thrive. (Exit Shark)

Bell. Dear Girl, the moment my Affairs are brought to bear, you may depend upon the five hundred pounds I promised you.—Is my Uncle up yet?

Lucy. He has been up this Hour—here he comes; be sure you comply with him, let him say what he will.

(Enter SKINFLINT dressed in a Nightgown, a fur Nightcap, his hands muffled in Flannel, his feet in gouty Shoes)

Bell. A good morning to you, Sir.

Skin. A good morning to you, Nephew. Auh! auh!

Bell. I am sorry to hear, Sir, you have had so bad a Night.

Skin. I had indeed, Nephew; I was afraid it was all over. Such another Fit would carry me off. Auh! auh!

Bell. But you are pretty well this morning, I hope, Sir.

Skin. Something better but very weak—very faint indeed, Nephew! O—o—o, very faint.

Bell. You should take something comfortable, Sir—Cordials to repair the breaches you Illness hath made.

Skin. Lord, Nephew, it would require such a monstrous deal of Money, and really these Syringe Carriers and Glyster Baggs and Doctors give themselves such Airs, that a Man can't have their Assistance, nor any of their Druggs and Slops under their Weight in Gold; therefore, I think, Nephew, since we are to dye we had better save our Money.

Bell. I grant you, Sir, the Fees of Surgeons and Physicians are exorbitant,—yet as Health and Life are our most valuable Blessings, we might lay a little out in Support of them—I mean in Cases of very great Danger.

Skin. No, no, the—auh, auh!—the Tenement is not worth the Repairs—auh—auh—I am like an old House that is ready to drop—the first high Wind, down I shall go—the next fit will carry me off.

Bell. Heaven forbid, Sir.

Skin. Therefore, I am resolved—auh! to settle my Affairs this very day. You know, Nephew, you were talking of Harriet, my Lady Lovewealth's Daughter; but my Lady truly will not consent to the Match, unless I make you my sole Heir, which you know, Child, cannot be, as I have another Nephew and a Niece, Sir Roger Bumper and his Sister, whom I intend to provide for.

Bell. Very true, Sir.

Skin. And so—Harry—as my Lady and I could not hit it off in regard to you—she hath persuaded me to marry the Girl myself; what is your Judgment of it, Nephew? ha!

Bell. If you like it, Sir, there can be no Objection to it.

(Enter a SERVANT)

Serv. Sir, there is Mr. Littlewit, the Proctor, come to know your Commands.

Skin. Desire him to walk in.(Exit Servant)

(Enter Mr. LITTLEWIT)

So Mr. Littlewit, I have sent for you upon a Business which will perhaps surprize you; it is to draw up my marriage Articles.

Little. What between you and Death, I suppose. Ha! Your Will, I reckon you mean.

Skin. Dear Mr. Littlewit, your Jest is very ill timed; I mean, Sir, my marriage Articles with Harriet Lovewealth, and at the same time I intend to make my Will too; here are the Directions in this Paper for both; and let them be drawn up as soon as possible and looked over by my old Friend, Doctor Leatherhead; and pray bring him with you this Afternoon.

Little. Sir, your Directions shall be observed with Punctuality and Expedition.(Exit)

Skin. So you approve of my Marriage, you say, Nephew?

Bell. I think it the best thing you can do, Sir.

Skin. Why, Nephew, notwithstanding—I am so shattered with Age—and Infirmities—I assure you I have more Vigour than People imagine; what think you, Lucy?

Lucy. Your Eyes, Sir, look very sparkling and lively—but I think a—um—your other parts are not quite so brisk.

Skin. Why ay, 'tis true, my other parts are a little—a little morbific or so, as the Doctors say; but Harriet is very young, and she will be a charming Bedfellow. Besides, Nephew, I have a great Satisfaction in Disappointing my Crew of Relations, who have been like as many Undertakers for these twenty years past, enquiring not after my Health but my Death; but I'll be revenged on them. I will have the Pleasure of sending for 'em all, one by one, and assuring them I will not leave a single Shilling among them.

(Enter a SERVANT)

Serv. Sir, My Lady Lovewealth and her Daughter are come to wait on you.

Skin. Odso. I did not expect them so soon—Stay, stay, Boy; don't shew them up yet; my Mistress must not find me in this Pickle. Go you down, Lucy, and shew them into the Parlour, but return directly and help to dress me. (Exeunt Lucy and Servant) Come, Nephew, help me off with this Gown and Cap; let me make myself as agreeable as I can for my Mistress. Gently, gently, Child, have a care, have a care of my Hand (pulling off the Gown)! Oh! Oh! Oh! you have touched my gouty Finger. (Enter Lucy) Come hither, Lucy, do you dress me; you are most used to it. Are my Flannels warm?

Lucy. Here, here, all roasted—they have been at the Fire these three Hours. (Lucy and Bellair dress him up like a ridiculous old man; they put a heap of Flannels on him, then his Clothes, and a ridiculous Tye Wig)

Skin. Well, how do I look now? Pretty well, ha?

Bell. Very well, Sir, and very genteel.

Skin. Now shew the Ladies up, Lucy. I protest this dressing hath fatigued me, auh! auh! auh! (coughing)

Lucy. (To Bellair as she goes out) I have hinted something to Harriet which I believe will break off the Match infallibly. (Exit)

Skin. Nephew, notwithstanding, auh!—This Marriage, I shall make a handsome Provision for you.

Bell. Sir, your Health and Happiness are my chiefest Blessings.

(Enter Lady LOVEWEALTH, HARRIET and LUCY)

Lad. Sir Isaac Skinflint, I am glad to see you up and dressed this morning. We had a report in our Neighbourhood that you died last Night.

Skin. Ay, Madam, Envious Wretches who expect Legacies—and who wish me in my Grave—spread it abroad—'tis true I was a little out of order last Night, but I'm mighty well today. Auh! Auh! Extremely well. Auh! Auh! Lucy, give me a little of that Hartshorn.

Bell. Upon my word, Sir, I never saw you look better. Pray young Lady, what do you think?

Har. Indeed, Sir, I think the Gentleman looks extremely gay and healthy.

Skin. I should be very ill indeed, Madam, if such powerful Eyes as yours could not give me new Life. (Bowing very low)

Har. O Sir, your Servant. (Curtsying very low)

Lad. Very gallant indeed, Sir.

Skin. Yes, Madam, you will be a Medea's Kettle to me from [whence] I shall receive new Vigour. Your Charms will be a vivifying Nostrum to the morbific parts, which Infirmity and Age have laid hold of. You will be an Inlap to my Heart—and my Marriage will be an infallible Specific which I shall take as my last Remedy.—Give me a little of that Cordial.

Har. Sir, whatever commands my Lady thinks proper to lay on me, I shall think it my Duty to give them an implicit Obedience. (She curtsies all the while. Skin. bows)

Lad. You see, Sir Isaac, my Daughter is entirely directed by my Will; so if you are ready to fulfill the Agreement, that is to settle a thousand pounds a year on her during your own Life, and your whole Fortune in Reversion upon your Decease, she is ready to marry you.

Skin. Madam, I am as ready as she, and have given orders to my Lawyer to draw up the Articles for that purpose with the utmost Expedition, and I expect them to be brought every moment ready to sign.

Lad. Then, Harriet, I will leave you here, Child, while I call upon my Lawyer in Lincoln's Inn, who is to peruse the Writings.—Mrs. Lucy, pray will you let one of your Men order my Coach up to the Door.(Exit Lucy)

Sir Isaac Skinflint, your Servant. Mr. Bellair, yours.(Exit)

Skin. [To Harriet] Come Madam, let not these naughty Flannels disgust you; I can pull 'em off upon—um—ahu—certain Occasions. I shall look better in a few days.

Har. Better! That's impossible, Sir, you can't look better.

Skin. O Lord, Madam! (Bowing)

Har. (Takes him by the hand) There, there's a Figure; do but view him. Sir, I never saw a finer Figure for a Shroud and Coffin in my Life.

Skin. Madam! (starting)

Har. I say, Sir, you are a most enchanting Figure for a Shroud and Coffin.

Skin. Shroud and Coffin! (He walks off! She after him)

Har. Well I can't help admiring your Intrepidity, Sir Isaac; o' my Conscience, you have more Courage than half the young Fellows in Town. Why what a Don Quixot are you to venture that shattered, shabby, crazy Carcass of yours into a Marriage Bed with a hale Constitution of Nineteen!

Skin. Why really, Madam——

Har. Why really, Sir, you'll repent it.

Skin. I believe it, I believe it, Madam.

Har. What you, who are a gouty, cholicky, feverish, paralytick, hydropic, asthmatic, and a thousand Diseases besides, venture to light Hymen's Torch! Why, Sir, it is perfect Madness; it is making but one Step from your Wedding to your Grave. Pray Sir, how long do you expect to live?

Skin. Not long I am sure if I marry you.

Har. You are in the right on't, Sir; it will not be consistent with my Pleasure or my Interest that you should live above a Fortnight; um—ay, in about a Fortnight I can do it. Let me see; ay, it is but pulling away a Pillow in one of your coughing Fits—or speaking properly to your Apothecary—a very little Ratsbane or Laudanum will do the Business!

Skin. O monstrous!

Bell. Madam, this is a behaviour unbecoming the Daughter of Lady Lovewealth, and what I am confident her Ladyship will highly resent.

Har. You are mistaken, Sir; my Lady has consented to his Death in a Fortnight after our Marriage.

Skin. O lud! O lud!

Har. She begged hard for a Month, but I could not agree to it; so now the only Dispute between us is whether he shall be poisoned or strangled.

Skin. O horrid! O terrible! So then it was agreed between you that I should be sent out of the World one way or t'other.

Har. Yes Sir. What other Treatment could you expect, you who are a mere walking Hospital! an Infirmary! O shocking! Ha! ha! There's a Figure to go to bed with. (Pointing at him and bursting into a Laugh)

Skin. I shall choke with Rage. Auh! Auh!

Bell. Madam, I cannot stand by and see this Treatment.—If you use him thus before Marriage, what ought he to expect after it?

Har. What? Why I have told him, Death! Death! Death!

Skin. Ay, you have indeed, Madam, and I thank you for it, but it shall never be in your Power, either to strangle or poison me. Auh! Auh! I would as soon marry a she Dragon; Nephew, I beg you will turn her out—see her out of the House, pray.

Bell. Madam, let me beg you will shorten your Visit.

Har. O Sir, with all my Heart; I see you are a Confederate with your Uncle in this Affair, but I shall insist upon his Promise of Marriage; I can prove it, and assure yourself, Sir, if there be Law in Westminster Hall or Doctors Commons, you shall hear from me, and so your Servant, Sir.(Goes off in a Passion)

Skin. Dear Nephew, see her out of the House; she has almost worried me to Death. (Sits down)(Exit Bellair)

(Enter LUCY)

Skin. O Lucy, give me a little Inlap or Hartshorn or something to raise my Spirits. Had ever Man so happy an Escape?

Lucy. Ay, Sir, you'd say it was a happy Escape indeed, if you knew all; why Sir, it is whispered everywhere that she had an Intrigue last Summer at Scarborough with a Captain of Horse.

Skin. I don't in the least doubt it; she who could give Ratsbane or Laudanum to her Husband, I believe would not hesitate at a little Fornication.

(SHARK without, dressed like a Fox Hunter, drunk, knocking very loud and hollowing)

Shar. Haux, haux, haux, my Honies, Heyhe! House, where the Devil are you all?

Skin. Bless us, who is it knocks so? ([knocking] within)

Lucy. The Lord knows, Sir, some Madman I believe—It is Shark, I suppose. (Aside)

(Enter SHARK)

Shar. Hey House! Family! Where are you all?

Lucy. What do you want, Sir?

Shar. What's that to you, Hussy? Where's Skinflint?

Lucy. Skinflint!

Shar. Ay, Skinflint.

Lucy. There is my Master, Sir Isaac Skinflint, in that great Chair.

Shar. (Going up to him looking in his Face and laughing) A damned odd Sort of a Figure: a cursed queer old Fellow to look at. Is your name Skinflint?

Skin. It is, Sir.

Shar. Then give me you Hand, old Boy. (Shakes him by the Flannels)

Skin. Hold, hold, Sir, you'll kill me if you han't a Care.

Shar. So much the better; the sooner you die the better for me.

Skin. For you? Pray, Sir, who are you?

Shar. Your Nephew who has rid a hundred Miles on purpose to take Possession of your Estate.

Skin. Are you my Nephew?

Shar. Yes, Sir.

Skin. I am sorry for it.

Shar. My Name is Bumper; my Father, Sir Barnaby Bumper, took to Wife a Lady who as I have been told was your Sister; which said Sister, Sir, brought me into the World in less than four Months after her Marriage.

Skin. In four Months?

Shar. Yes, Sir, My Father was a little displeased with it at first; but upon his being informed that such forward Births were frequent in your Family, he was soon reconciled to it.

Skin. They belied our Family, Sir—for our Family—

Shar. Hush! hush! Don't expose them. They were always a damned whoring Family; I must confess I have frequently blushed at the quickness of my Mother's conception, for it has often been thrown in my Teeth; but since it has made me your Heir, that will set me above the Disgrace.

Skin. My Heir!

Shar. Ay, your Heir, Sir. I am come to Town on purpose to take Possession. We had an Account in the Country that you were dead.

Skin. And I suppose you are not a little mortified to find the Report is false, ha?

Shar. Why, I am sorry to find you alive, I must confess. I was in hopes to have found you stretched out and ready for the black Gentleman to say Grace over you.

Skin. Sir, your Servant.

Shar. May the strawberry Mare knock up the next hard Chace if I have not ridden as hard to be at your Earthing as ever I did to be in at the Death of a Fox.

Skin. It was most affectionately done of you, Nephew, and I shall remember you for it.—A Villain! I'll not leave him a Groat. (Aside)

Shar. However since you are alive, Uncle, I am glad to see you look so ill.

Skin. I am very much obliged to you, Nephew. (Aside to Lucy) Was there ever such a Reprobate, Lucy?

Shar. They tell me you have a damned deal of money that you have got by Extortion and Usury and Cheating of Widows and Orphans to whom you have been Guardian and Executor, ha—but I suppose you intend every Grig of it for me, ha! Old Boy, I'll let it fly. I'll release the yellow Sinners from their Prisons; they shall never be confined by me.

Skin. I believe you, Nephew.

Shar. But harkee you, Uncle, my Sister is come to Town too, and she thinks to come in for Snacks—but not a Grig—d'ye hear—not a Grig—I must have every Souse—Cousin Bellair too, that Prig, I hear, is looking out Sharp—But if you leave a Denier to any of them without my Consent you shall be buried alive in one of your own iron Chests, and sent as a present to your old Friend Belzebub.

Skin. To be sure, Nephew, you are so very dutiful and affectionate that I shall be entirely directed by you. Lucy, (Aside to Lucy) I am afraid this Villain is come to murder me; step in and call Bellair this Instant. (Exit Lucy) Pray Nephew, how long have you been in Town?

Shar. I came to Town late last Night—and hearing you were alive, I was resolved I would not sleep 'till I had seen you. So I went amongst the Coffee Houses at Covent Garden where I made a charming Riot; I fought a Duel, beat the Watch, kicked the Bawds, broke their Punch Bowls, clapt an old Market Woman upon her Head in the middle of a Kennel, bullied a Justice, and made all the Whores as drunk——

Skin. As yourself, I suppose. Upon my word, Nephew, you have made good use of your time since you have been in Town.

Shar. Ay, han't I, old Skinflint? Zounds I love a Riot; don't you love a Riot, Uncle?

Skin. O most passionately.

Shar. Give me your Hand. (Slaps him upon the Shoulder) Old Boy, I love you for that.

Skin. O, O, O, O, he has killed me; I am murdered.

Shar. Rot your old crazy Carcass, what do you cry out for, ha?

Skin. O, O, O, I can't bear to be touched.

Shar. O, O, Oh! Damn you, why don't you die then? Harkee Uncle, how long do you intend to live? Ha! I'll allow you but three days, and if you don't die in that time, dead or alive, I'll have you buried. For I am resolved not to stir out of Town 'till I see that Bag of Bones of yours, that old rotten Carcass pailed up between four substantial Elms and laid twenty foot deep in the Earth, and then light lie the Turf, and flourish long Bow. Toll, loll, de doll, ha! ha! Uncle, I'll take care of your safe Passage to Pluto, never fear.

Skin. Had ever Man such a Reprobate Relation? O the Villain!

(Enter Mr. DEATH)

Shar. O Mr. Death, your Servant.

Death. I am come, Sir, according to your Commands; pray which is the Gentleman I am to take Measure of?

Shar. That old Prig in the Chair there.

Death. Sir, your humble Servant.

Skin. Sir, your Servant. What are your Commands with me?

Death. Sir, my Name is Death.

Skin. Death!

Death. Yes Sir, at your Service, Dismal Death of—pretty well known in this City.

Skin. And pray Mr. Dismal Death, what do you want with me?

Death. I am come to take measure of you for a Coffin.

Skin. What! How!

Shar. Yes you old Prig, I ordered him to take Measure of you and Measure he shall take this Instant; do you hear, Mr. Death, measure him, measure the old Prig; I'll hold him fast.

(SHARK lays hold of him while Mr. DEATH measures him)

Skin. Are you going to murder me? You Villain! Here Lucy, Nephew, Murder!

(Enter LUCY and BELLAIR)

Bell. How now, what's the matter? Are you going to rob my Uncle?

Death. No, no, Sir, we are only taking Measure of him for a Coffin.

Skin. O Nephew, they have almost killed me! Here is your cousin Bumper come to take Possession of my Fortune whether I will or no; and [he] has brought a frightful Fellow to take Measure of me for a Coffin and Shroud, and swears he will bury me within these three days, dead or alive.

Bell. Are not you ashamed, Cousin Bumper, to use our Uncle so inhumanly?

Shar. Damn you Prig, have you a mind to resent it? If you have, lug out, and I'll soon dispatch you. (Draws)

Skin. Was there ever such a bloody minded Villain? Dear Nephew, come in with me; I'll do his Business for him in a more effectual way than fighting. I'll swear the Peace against him and make my Will, without leaving him a Shilling.(Exit with Bellair)

Shar. So far the Plow speeds. I think we have done Mr. Bumper's Business for him. That Obstacle is pretty well removed—We have nothing to do now but to provide for his Sister the Widow, and then to contrive some means to frighten the old Fellow into a Will in favour of my Master.

Lucy. Ay, Shark, that is the chiefest Difficulty, the Masterpiece, and unless you accomplish that you do nothing.

Shar. I know it, my Dear; here, here (pointing to his head), here, here—the Embryo is here, and will come forth perfect in less than ten Minutes. Why Lucy, I have a Genius to Deceit, and wanted nothing but an Opportunity to shew it.

Lucy. I think you have a very fair one now.

Shar. I have so, and never fear, Girl, I'll engage I make a proper use of it. Lord, how many great Men have been lost for want of being thrown into a proper light? On my Conscience, had I been bred in a Court, I believe I should have made as great a Figure as ever Cromwell did, for

(Exeunt)

ACT II

(Enter BELLAIR and LUCY)

Bell. What Coach was that stopt at the Door?

Lucy. My Lady Lovewealth's, Sir. I told her Miss Harriet was gone home, and that my Master was gone out in a Chair to some of his Lawyers, for I could not let her see Sir Isaac.

Bell. You were right, Lucy. Where is Shark?

Lucy. In my Room, Sir, dressing for the Widow.

(SKINFLINT within)

Skin. Lucy, why Lucy, ugh, ugh, where are you, Wench?

Bell. I'll leave you with my Uncle, Lucy, while I step up and hasten Shark.(Exit [Bellair])

(Enter SKINFLINT)

Skin. Here, Lucy, tye up me Affairs; they are loose and falling about my Heels.

Lucy. They are always loose, I think.

Skin. Lucy, did not I send for Monsieur du Maigre, the Apothecary?

Lucy. Yes Sir, and he will be here presently. (Knocking) Hark, this is he I suppose.

Skin. Go see; if it is, send him up. (Exit Lucy) What an insupportable Vexation Riches are; all my Relations are watching and hovering about me like so many Crows about a dead Carrion; even Bellair, who behaves the best of them all, has a Hawk's Eye, I see, after my Will and advises me in a sly indirect manner to the making of it. A Parent is used by an Heir just as a Virgin is by a Rake; before we have parted with our Treasure, we are adored, we are Gods and Goddesses, but as soon as that is over, we become as troublesome to them as an evil Conscience. I'll keep my money to save my poor Soul, for to be sure I have got a great deal of it in an unfair manner; therefore in order to make my Peace hereafter, I'll leave it to build an Almshouse.

(Enter LUCY)

Lucy. Sir, there's a Lady in deep Mourning below, who says she is your Niece.

Skin. If she is such a Canary Bird as her Brother that was here today, she may go to the Devil; however shew her up. (Exit Lucy)

She may be the reverse of him; we ought not to condemn a whole Family for one bad Person.

(Enter LUCY, showing in SHARK who is dressed in Weeds)

Lucy. Madam, this is your Uncle.

Shar. Sir, I have not the Honour to be known to you, but the Report of your Death has brought me to Town, to testify the Duty and Affection of an unworthy Niece for the best of Uncles.

Skin. A good well bred kind of a Woman. (Aside to Lucy) Ay, this is something like a Relation.

Lucy. I shall hear you sing another tune presently. (Aside)

Skin. Pray Niece, give me leave to salute you. You are welcome to London. (Kisses him) My Eyes are but bad—yet I think I can discover a strong Resemblance of my Sister in you. (Peering in his Face)

Shar. Yes Sir, I was reckoned very like my Mama before I was married, but frequent Child bearing you know, Sir, will alter a Woman strangely for the worse.

Skin. It will so, Niece; you are a Widow I perceive.

Shar. Yes Sir, an unfortunate Widow (Weeps). I never had a dry Eye since my Husband died.

Skin. Pray Niece, what did your Husband die of?

Shar. He broke his Neck a Fox Hunting.

Skin. Good lack, good lack! That was dreadful.

Shar. Ay Sir, and tho' I was but one and twenty when he died, he left me both a Widow and a Mother; so early a Grief you may be sure must have robbed me of my Bloom and has broke me mightily.

Skin. As you were a Widow, Niece, at one and twenty, I don't suppose your Husband left you many Children.

Shar. Fifteen, Sir.

Skin. Fifteen, Niece! (Starting)

Shar. Ay, fifteen, Sir; I was married at fourteen.

Skin. That was very young, Niece.

Shar. It was so, Sir; but young Girls can't keep now adays, so I ran away with him from the Boarding School. I had two Children by him every ten months for six Years, and I had three by him the seventh.

Skin. Upon my word you are a very good Breeder.

Shar. Yes Sir, I was always accounted so; besides, Sir, I have had two by him since his Death.

Skin. How, Madam, since his Death.

Shar. Yes Sir, and I am afraid I shall have some more, for a Word in your Ear, Sir—I find I am coming again, Sir. [3]

Skin. O Fye, Niece, O fye, fye—why Lucy, this Woman is as bad as her Brother.

Lucy. Indeed Sir, I am afraid so. (Aside)

Skin. But I'll try her a little further. Pray Niece, who has been your Companion and Bedfellow for these two years past? For I presume you have not lain alone.

Shar. O Lord, Sir, not for the World! You must know, Uncle, I am greatly addicted to be afraid of Spirits, Ghosts, Witches, and Fairies, and so to prevent terrifying Dreams and Apparitions, I took a Religious Gentleman, a very good Man to bed with me—an Itinerant Methodist, one Doctor Preach Field.

Skin. Doctor Preach Field. I have heard of him.

Shar. O he's a very good man, Uncle, I assure you, and very full of the Spirit.

Skin. Lucy, have not I got a hopeful parcel of Relations? (Aside)

Lucy. Indeed Sir, I think this Lady is not extremely modest. (Aside)

Skin. Why she ought to be whipped at the Cart's Tail (Aside); pray Niece, have not you a Brother in Town?

Shar. Yes Sir; he and I beat the Watch last night at Tom Kings.

Skin. O Monstrous! beat the Watch, Madam!

Shar. Yes Sir, and broke all the Lamps in the Parish.

Skin. Very pretty Employment for a Lady truly, and so, Madam, you came to Town merely to shew your Duty and Affection to me.

Shar. Yes Sir, and in hopes to be your Heir; we had a Report in the Country that you was Defunct; and I was in hopes to have found it true.

Skin. I am obliged to you, Madam.

Shar. There is another thing we have very current in the Country. I do not know how true it is.

Skin. What is it, I pray?

Shar. I have been told, Uncle, and from very good Hands, that you are little better than a Thief.

Skin. Madam!

Shar. And that you got all your Fortune by biting and sharping, extortion and cheating.

Skin. Harkee Madam, get out of my House this Minute, or I will order somebody to throw you out of the Window.

Shar. I have heard too that for several years past, you have been an old Fornicator, and that you have led a most wicked Life with this Girl.

Lucy. With me, Madam?

Shar. Yes, you naughty Creature, and that your Fornication would have had carnal symptoms, but that he took most unnatural methods to prevent your Pregnancy.

Skin. Get out of my Doors this Minute.

Shar. Sir, you are an uncivil Gentleman to bid me get out, but I find you are as great a Rogue as the most malicious Report can make you.

Skin. Get out of my House, I say!

Shar. Well, I'll go, Sir, but depend upon it you shall not live many Days after this. I'll be the Death of you, if there are no more Uncles in the World.

Lucy. Slip up the back stairs to my Room and I'll come and undress you. (Aside to him as she thrusts him off) Get you out, you wicked Woman, get you out.(Exit Shark)

Skin. Was ever Man so hope up with such a parcel of Relations! Make them my Heirs! I would as soon leave my Money to a Privateer's Crew; and I verily believe they would be as thankful and make as good a use of it.—I have been so worried and teazed by them all, that I am not able to support any longer—I must go in and lye down. Support me, Lucy, or I shall fall; I am quite faint. Oh, oh! (Exeunt)

(Enter BELLAIR)

Bell. So! Thus far all goes well. Shark has been as successful in his Widow as his Fox. We have routed the Family of the Bumpers. There is nothing now to apprehend from that Quarter. But the main Difficulty is yet behind, which is to induce him to make his Will, for without that my Lady Lovewealth's Avarice never will consent to make my dearest Harriet mine.

(Enter LUCY)

Lucy. O Sir, we are all undone!

Bell. Why what's the matter?

Lucy. Your Uncle, Sir, is dead.

Bell. Dead!

Lucy. Ay, dead, Sir! Shark with his Tricks and Rogueries has so teazed him that having with much ado got into his Chamber, down he fell upon the Bed, and there he lies without either Motion, Voice, Sense, Pulse or Understanding.

Bell. The very means I took to succeed have infallibly ruined me.

(Enter SHARK)

Shar. Is he gone? Is the coast clear?

Bell. So Villain, your Schemes and Plots have a fine Conclusion, Rascal.

Shar. A fine Conclusion, Rascal! I don't know what conclusion they have, but I am sure it can't be worse than this Reward; pray Sir, what has happened?

Bell. Why you have killed my Uncle, Villain, and ruined me forever.

Shar. What! Is the old Fellow dead?

Bell. Yes, Rascal, and without a Will.

Shar. This is now an Instance of the Judgment and Gratitude of Mankind; if I had succeeded, I should have been a second Machiavel, and my dear Shark, I shall be ever obliged to you—but now I am a Rascal and a Son of a Whore, a Blockhead and deserve my Bones broke.

Bell. Well Sir, no upbraiding now, but tell what is to be done.

Shar. What's to be done? What should be done, Sir. Break open his Coffers, his Cabinet, his Strong Box, seize upon his Mortgage Deeds, and Writings, but above all take a particular Care of the Bank Bills, and the ready Cash. I have a great Veneration for them; they will tell no tales to your Fellow Heirs, and as the old Man has bit you, why do you plunder them. Do you take Possession and I'll engage I procure a Lawyer who shall prove it to be something more than eleven points of the Law.

Bell. But then my Harriet, Shark! Without her the Wealth of Mexico is useless and insipid.

Shar. Upon my Soul, Sir, begging your Pardon, you make as ridiculous a Figure in this Business as a disappointed Lover in a Play; why Sir, our Farce is now in the very Height of the Plot, and it is impossible you can have your Mistress 'till it be ended.

Bell. Nor then either I am afraid.

Shar. Lord, Sir, you are too hasty. You are like the ignorant part of an Audience the first night of a new Play; you will have things brought about before their time. Go and take Possession of the Assets, I tell you, and leave the rest to the Devil and the Law. Get them on our side, and I'll engage you prosper in any Roguery.

Bell. Well, I'll go—but I see no glimmering of hope from it. (Exit Bellair)

Shar. Lucy, do you shut up all the Windows and lock up the door.

Lucy. That's impossible, for Mr. Littlewit and Doctor Leatherhead are below with the Marriage Articles.

Shar. O the Devil! Then we are all ruined again. Hold—ha—ay—I have a thought. Lucy, do the Lawyers know of the old Man's Death?

Lucy. Not a word. They are but this minute come in.

Shar. Then keep it an entire Secret—I'll clinch the whole Affair this Instant.—Get me the old Man's Gown—and Cap—his Slippers, his Pillow, his Flannels and all his Trumpery.

Lucy. Here they all are upon the Table where he shifted.

Shar. Give 'em me, quick, quick—ask no questions—so—now my Cap—my gouty Slippers, my Flannels for my hands, here, here, pin them on, pin them on, quick—quick, so! And now my great Chair—and now I am damnable ill—O sick, sick,—Auh—Auh—Auh! Go and tell my Master how I am transmogrified, do you hear, and bid him not be surprized let what will happen, but first send up the Lawyers. (Exit Lucy) Lawyers have often made false Wills for their own Interests, and I see no reason now why they mayn't make one for mine. I am sure I have as good a Title to be a Rogue as any of them all, for my Father was an Irish Solicitor, my Mother a Yorkshire Gipsy, I was begotten in Wales, born in Scotland, and brought up at that famous University of St. Giles pound, and now he who has a better Right to be a Rogue than me, let him put in his Claim. Tho' I believe nobody will dispute it with me, it is all my own today; when I come to Westminster Hall I'll resign.

(Enter BELLAIR, LUCY, Doctor LEATHERHEAD, and Mr. LITTLEWIT, [with] Pens, Ink, Papers, Candles, etc., etc.)

Shar. So Gentlemen, when I sent for you in the Morning, I was foolish enough to think of Marriage, but Heaven pardon me, I must now think of Death, of my poor precious Soul. I must desire you to get my Will ready as soon as possible, for I fear my poor fleeting Life is not worth half an Hour's purchase.

Doct. The sooner it is done, the better; it may procure you Ease and Consolation of mind.

Shar. Dear Doctor Leatherhead, hold your Tongue; the less you talk, the more it will be to the purpose, I am sure. Nephew, draw near. Lucy, take those Candles out of my Eyes, and shut that Door.

Lucy. Sir, my Lady Lovewealth has sent her Daughter to wait on you, and my Lady will be here herself immediately.

Shar. Very well, let my wife that was to be come up—and let her know how Affairs are, Lucy. (Aside to Lucy)(Exit Lucy)

Little. (At the Table writing) Um, um, Sir Isaac Skinflint of the Parish of um—sound sense—um weak in Body—uncertainty of human Life—um—last Will and Testament—Now Sir, we are ready; I have finished the Preamble.

Doct. But Sir Isaac, should not this Will be made in Private? We always choose to have as few Witnesses by as possible.

Shar. I believe you, Doctor Leatherhead, that they may produce the more Law Suits. Ay, ay, Doctor, I know the tricks of the Law; the more Grist, the more Toll for the Miller—but you shall not fill your Bags out of my Sack, you Harpies, you Cormorants, you Devourers! O you Bloodsuckers! Auh, auh!

Doct. I find Sir Isaac still the same Man.

Little. No matter, Doctor; as it is the last Business we shall do for him, he shall pay swingingly.

Shar. I will make my Will simple and plain, and before many Witnesses.

(Enter HARRIET)

So Harriet, you are come to see the last of the old Man—well I forgive you your Raillery today—come kiss me, Hussy, or I'll disinherit you. (Kisses her) You had better kiss me as a dying Uncle, Hussy, than a living Husband, for I shall give you to my Nephew—and now Gentlemen of the Black Robe, who protect our properties for us, the first thing you are to do is to fill up the blank in the Marriage Articles with my Nephew's name instead of mine, for he I fancy, he will be much properer to manage the young Lady's Concerns than me. It is over with me; what think you, Harriet? Don't you think he'll do it better than me, ha? Ah the young Jade, how she smiles. She knows what I mean, but Gentlemen, before I make my Will, I have one thing to observe, which is that I am a very whimsical old Rogue! You all know that, I believe.

Doct. Why you are a little whimsical, Sir Isaac, sometimes, I know.

Shar. And therefore I desire a Bond may immediately be prepared for me to give my Nephew, which will put it out of my power to revoke the Will I shall now make in these Presents; for I am so odd a Fellow, that it is a hundred to one, I shall want to go from it tomorrow.

Doct. I am afraid, Sir Isaac, such a Bond will not be good in Law.

Little. O yes, Doctor, very good. Doctor, you will hurt the Practice with your Scruples; what is it to us whether it be a good Bond or not; it is a new Case, and will be a Bone of Contention to us. The Gown will get by it, let who will lose. (Aside to the Doctor)

Doct. I believe, Sir Isaac, upon second Thoughts it will be a good Bond.

Shar. Then draw it up, and now Gentlemen, as to my Will—Inprimis, let all my Debts be discharged.

Doct. That I believe, Sir Isaac, will be soon done; for I don't suppose you owe any.

Shar. Yes I owe for the nursing of a Bastard Child at Wandsor.

Doct. Is it possible you ever had a Bastard?

Shar. Several, Doctor, but they were all dropt upon different Parishes, except that One. Then there are some few dribbling Debts at Alehouses and Taverns where I used to meet my Wenches—in all about twenty Pounds.

Doct. I find, Mr. Littlewit, the old Gentleman has been a Cock of the Game in his time, Good Blood.

Little. Really, Doctor Leatherhead, I think so.

Shar. Item, I do constitute my Nephew Bellair whole and sole Executor of this my last Will and Testament.

Bell. O my dear Uncle, shall I lose you. (Cries)

Shar. Good natured Boy, how he weeps, disinheriting and cutting off all other Persons whatsoever—saving those hereafter mentioned.

Lucy. O my dear generous Master. (Cries)

Shar. Poor Girl, she weeps too; I suppose for the same Reason, to put me in Mind of her; never fear, Lucy. I'll not forget you; you have been a good Girl and managed my Concerns with great Skill and Decency.

Doct. Proceed, Sir.

Shar. Unto Harriet Lovewealth my Niece that shall be, I do give—(Lucy, you know where they are) a set of Diamond Bracelets which were mortgaged to me and forfeited by the Welch Lady that used to game so much.

Lucy. I have them in this Casket, Sir.

Shar. Give them to me—there—I give them Harriet, but first kiss me, Hussy—I will have a Kiss for them. (Kisses her and gives her the bracelets)

Bell. Impudent Rascal!

Shar. Item, to Lucy who for many years has served me faithfully—and who used to flatter me in all my little Foibles.

Lucy. Sure never was so generous and grateful a Master. (Cries)

Shar. To her I bequeath, when she marries, one thousand pounds, provided it be with that honest Lad Shark, not a Farthing else.

Bell. How Sir, a thousand Pounds; it is too much.

Shar. Not at all, Nephew.

Bell. Here's a Dog. (Aside) Consider, Sir, she's a low bred poor Person.

Shar. Poor is she? Why then, Mr. Littlewit, if the Girl is poor, put her down another Hundred, but with a Proviso still that she marries Shark.

Bell. I presume, Sir, you have done now.

Shar. Done! The Gods of Gratitude and Generosity forbid; no I must remember poor Shark. I must not forget him—Item, to that honest Fellow Shark, auh, auh!

Bell. O the Rascal; he'll give half the Estate to himself and Lucy.

Shar. To Shark, I say, for his faithful Services.

Bell. Why, Sir, he's the most idle, drunken——

Shar. Hold your Tongue, Nephew, you are deceived in the young Man—you don't know him so well as I. I have known him many Years; he is a sober honest Fellow, and has a great Regard for you, and for that Reason, I leave him two hundred pounds per Annum.

Bell. Two hundred pounds, Sir——

Shar. Pray be silent, Nephew; I know his Virtues and good Qualities; therefore, Mr. Littlewit, I think you may as well make it two hundred and fifty.

Bell. Sir! Per Annum! Sir!

Shar. Ay, per Annum, for ten Annums if I please, Sir. Why sure I can do what I will with my own.

Bell. I beg your Pardon, Sir, it is a great deal too much, I think.

Shar. I think not, and I believe at this Juncture my Thoughts are more to the purpose than yours.

Bell. But consider, Sir, what can he do with so much money; such a low poor Fellow that has no Friends.

Shar. No Friends?

Bell. No Sir, a low Friendless Fellow.

Shar. Nay if he is poor—set him down another hundred, Mr. Littlewit. He shall not want a Friend while I am alive; for he is an honest Lad, and loves a Bottle and a Wench as well as myself.

Bell. Was there ever such a tricking exorbitant Rascal? (Aside) Sir, I beg you'll alter that Article that relates to Shark.

Shar. Sir, I beg you'll hold your Tongue. Say another word and I'll give him a thousand pounds per Annum.

Bell. Sir, I humbly beg Pardon. (Bowing very low)

Shar. Well, beg Pardon and be satisfied. I think you have reason—here I shall have you Master of six or seven thousand pounds per Annum, as you call it, and almost a Plumb and a half in ready Cole, and you are not satisfied; say one Word more and I'll tear my Will, or leave every Shilling to the Inhabitants of Bedlam or to the Man that finds out the Longitude.

Bell. I have done, Sir.

Shar. Pray then have done, Sir, and don't fret me.

Bell. An impudent Rogue, but I must not contend with him now. (Aside)

Shar. Lord, it is as much trouble to give away an Estate as to get it.

Doct. Mr. Bellair, you should not interrupt the Testator; at such a time his Mind should not be disturbed.

Shar. You are in the right, Doctor Leatherhead. Let me see, have I no Friend that I care to oblige with two or three thousand—I am in such a generous Temper that I don't care to leave off yet. I have a great Mind to give Shark a handful over, but——

Bell. Sir!

Shar. No, I believe I have done.

Doct. Will you please to sign then?

Shar. That I would with all my Heart, but that the Gout and Palsy prevent me.

Doct. Then we must observe, Mr. Littlewit, that the said Testator does declare his inability to write.

Shar. Is the Bond to my Nephew ready?

Little. Yes Sir.

Shar. But is it strong, and so well drawn that the old Nick himself should he turn Pettyfogger could not reverse it?

Doct. It is, Sir.

Shar. Very well.

Doct. There if you please to make your mark by touching the Pen. (Shark touches the Pen) So, and put the Watch over his Hand, and let him take off the Seal—so, very well, Sir, you publish and declare this to be your last Will and Testament, and desire Doctor Leatherhead and Mr. Littlewit to be Witnesses thereunto?

Shar. I do.

(All the ceremony of signing and sealing and delivering is performed)

Doct. Very well, Sir Isaac, I will take care they shall be properly registered.

Shar. I beg, good Folks, that you will slip into the next Room for a few Moments while I compose myself after this intolerable Fatigue; Nephew, pray shew them in, and do the Honours of my House in the genteelest Manner.

Bell. I shall, Sir.—Doctor Leatherhead, Mr. Littlewit—will you walk in, Gentlemen?

Doct. Sir, your Servant, Sir.

Little. Your's; we wish you better.

Shar. Your Servant, your Servant, Gentlemen. Auh, auh—quick, quick. (Coughs) (Exeunt all but Lucy and Shark) Lucy, off with my Roguery, and let me appear in my native honesty. I have had Gibbets and Halters in my Mind a hundred Times, passing and repassing, since I began this Business. I am horridly afraid that the Devil and Sir Isaac, for I suppose they are met by this time, will contrive some means to counterplot us. Tho' I think I shall be a Match for them, if we can keep the Law on our side, let me but secure that and I defy the Devil and all his Works. There, there they are, the precious Robes of Deceit. (Throws down the old Man's Gown and Cap) I think there has been transacted as ingenious a Scene of Iniquity in that Gown, within the short space of half an Hour, as in any Gown that has been trapesed in Westminster Hall since the ingenious Mr. Wreathcock was transported—Now my dear Lucy, after all this Fatigue and Bustle (Throws down the old Man's dress) I think it would not be amiss for you and I to relieve and solace ourselves in the lawful State of Procreation.

Lucy. Time enough, Fool. Consider Matrimony is a long Journey.

Shar. True, Lucy; therefore the sooner we set out the better; for Love, my Dear, like Time must be taken by the Forelock.

Lucy. Come, come, this is no time for prating and fooling. Do you join the Company to avoid Suspicion, and tomorrow Morning put me in Mind of it. If I am in Humour, I may perhaps walk towards Doctors Commons and venture at a great Leap in the Dark with you, for so I think marriage may be justly called.

Shar. Why ay, this is speaking like one that has a mind to Deal. Here's my hand; it shall stand on my side.

Lucy. And here's my hand. If I can help it, it shall not fail on mine.

Shar. Touch—Buss—I like the Sample and am resolved to purchase the whole Commodity.(Exit Shark)

(Monsieur DU MAIGRE within)

Maigre. Mistress Lucy! Mistress Lucy! why you no come when your Maitre Janie be so very much bad—where be you?

Lucy. Who have we here? Our Apothecary, Monsieur du Maigre! Pray Heaven the old Man is not come to Life again.

(Enter Monsieur DU MAIGRE)

Maigre. O Mistress Lucy for shame! Pardie, why you no come to your Maitre! He be dead this one half quartre de Hour, and you no come; by Gar, he wanta his Gown and his Cap.

Lucy. What, is he alive?

Maigre. Yes; he was dead, but I bring him to Life; I bleed a him, and so he comes from the dead Man to de Life. But come, allons, vite, vite, he want a de Gown. (Takes up the Gown and Cap)

Lucy. So we have been making a Will to a fine Purpose.

Maigre. Allons, vite, vite, Mistress Lucy, he be very bad indeed—and he want a you ver much, allons.(Exeunt)

(Enter BELLAIR and SHARK)

Shar. Well, Sir, now who is the Fool? the Blockhead? Did not I tell you we should succeed?

Bell. Yes but, Scoundrel, how did you dare to make such a Will?

Shar. In what respect, Sir?

Bell. In what, Rascal! To Lucy and yourself, how dare you leave so much money between you?

Shar. For the best reason in the World, Sir, because I knew nobody dared to contradict me. And had I thought you would have been angry at it—I assure you, Sir—I should have left as much more. Why Sir, if you will consider the Affair impartially, you will find I had a right to be Co-heir with you.

Bell. How so, Sir?

Shar. By the Laws of Roguery, Sir—in which it is a fundamental Maxim that in Cheats of this Kind, all people are upon a par, and have a right to an equal Snack.

Bell. Impudent Rascal!

Shar. But if you think, Sir, that I have behaved in this Affair selfishly or unbecoming a Rogue of Honour, I will send in for Doctor Leatherhead and Mr. Littlewit, for they are still in the next Room, and cancel the Will directly.

Bell. No, Rascal, you know my Love to Harriet will not let me consent to that.

Shar. This is just the way of the great World—the poor Rogues are Men of parts and do all the Business—and the rich ones not only arrogate the Merit to themselves, but are for running away with all the Plunder.

(Enter LUCY)

Lucy. O Sir!

Bell. What's the matter?

Lucy. Oh! Oh! Oh! I can't speak—but your Uncle's alive—that's all. (Sets down a great Chair)

Shar. And that's enough to hang one, I'm sure.

Bell. Alive!

Lucy. Ay, alive, Sir.

Shar. This comes of your begrudging me my Snack of the Spoil, Sir.

Bell. Why I thought you saw him senseless and dead.

Lucy. I thought so too; but it seems while we were about the Will, Monsieur du Maigre, the Apothecary, came in and bled him in an Instant, which has unfortunately recovered him. He is within with him now, and one Councellour Cormorant who is come upon some Law Business to him—O here they all come.

Bell. What a malicious turn of Fortune this is.

Shar. Why Sir, if you will not be ungrateful, now I believe I can secure a Retreat and such a one as the greatest General in Europe in our Situation would not be ashamed of.

Bell. Dear Shark, I will do anything thou wilt.

Shar. Ay, now it is dear Shark, but know, Sir, you have to deal with an Englishman, and a Man of Honour who scorns to put an Enemy to Death when he begs for Quarter—tho' you have been an ungenerous Ally as ever vowed Fidelity to the Crown of England—but no matter, I'll serve you still and completely.

Bell. But how, dear Shark?

Shar. I won't tell you—and I defy you to guess now—or anybody else that's more—I must step into the next Room for a Moment and whisper the Lawyers, and in the meantime, do you persist in your Uncle's having made a Will; that's all.—Don't you be like an ignorant Thief before a noisy Magistrate, confess and hang yourself. And you, Madam, do you embronze your Countenance, and keep up your Character to the last.(Exit)

(Enter SKINFLINT supported by Councellour CORMORANT and Monsieur DU MAIGRE, LUCY settling his great Chair)

Skin. Auh! auh! gently, gently. Let me down gently, pray. Oh, oh, oh. (Sits down) O Nephew, how could you let me lie for dead so long and never come near me?

Bell. Really, Sir, I never heard a word that you were in any Danger of Dying.

Skin. And Lucy, how could you be so cruel to neglect me so long?

Lucy. Me! Lord, Sir, I never knew anything of it 'till Monsieur du Maigre informed me.

Maigre. No, Pardie, she not have any knowledge 'till dat me make her de Intelligence.

Lucy. I thought you were in a sound Sleep, Sir, and was extremely glad of it.

Bell. And so was I, I do assure you, Sir.

Skin. I am obliged to you Nephew, but I had like to have slept my last.

Maigre. It is very true indeed upon my word. But dat Monsieur la avocat—here—Monsieur la what is your name, si'l vous plait—I always forget.

Coun. Cormorant, Sir.

Maigre. Mais oui Monsieur la Cormorant—but dat he and I come in together, just after one another; I believe I come in one, two Minute before you, Monsieur la Cormorant—I say but dat me come in the Nick upon a my word, Sir Isaac, you be defunct.—And then I lose my Annuity upon your Life, and by Gar, dat be very bad for Monsieur du Maigre.

Skin. I am obliged to you, Monsieur—are the Lawyers come, Lucy? Mr. Littlewit and Doctor Leatherhead?

Lucy. Yes Sir, they have been here a considerable time.

Skin. Desire them to walk in.

Lucy. So now the Murder's coming out.(Exit Lucy)

Skin. Nephew, I am at last resolved to make my Will; I shall make a proper provision for you in it. But as our Soul is the immortal part of us, [4] I must take Care of that the first thing I do. Therefore I am resolved to appropriate so much of my Fortune as will be sufficient for that purpose to the building of an Almshouse.

(Enter Doctor LEATHERHEAD, Mr. LITTLEWIT, Lady LOVEWEALTH, [HARRIET,] SHARK and LUCY)

Skin. So Gentlemen! I have altered my Mind, Mr. Littlewit, since I saw you last.

Little. Concerning what, Sir?

Skin. My Will, Sir.

Little. It is now too late, Sir; you have put it out of your Power.

Skin. Out of my Power?

Doct. Ay, and out of the Power of Westminster Hall! Sir Isaac, you know I gave you my Opinion upon it before you made it.

Skin. What, is the man mad?

Doct. No, Sir, I am not mad; and I would advise you not to be foolish and whimsical as you owned about half an hour since you were subject to.

Skin. Why the men are drunk or mad, I think.

Maigre. Pardie, somebody be drunk or mad among you, for by gar, me no understand your Vards.

Skin. Why Gentlemen, I sent for you to make my Will.

Doct. You did so, Sir, and you have made it. And it is registered. And there is the Copy. Ask your Nephew, and these Ladies, and your maid Lucy, and the Footman here.

Shar. No pray, Sir, don't bring me into it; I was not here.

Doct. You are right, Friend, I believe you were not here, but ask all the rest.

Skin. Nephew, do you know anything of all this?

Bell. Upon my word, Sir, what the Doctor says is true.

Skin. How! True, Lucy?

Lucy. Indeed, Sir, you did make a Will before you had your fit, but you have forgot it, I suppose.

Skin. Why this is all a Contrivance, a Conspiracy, a—pray when did I make this Will?

Doct. Why, Sir, it is not ten minutes since you signed it, and all these are Witnesses. (Pointing on their own side of the room)

Shar. No pray, Sir, leave me out. I will be sworn in any Court in Westminster, Sir Isaac, that I know nothing of the matter.

Maigre. By Gar, this Doctor Leatherhead be one ver great Fripon.—Harkee, Sir, you say he make de Signature to the Will in these ten a Minute.

Doct. Yes Sir.

Maigre. By Gar, dat cannot be, fo[r] Monsieur Cormorant and myself be vid him above thirteen, and he make no Will in that time, Jarnie bleu.

Coun. It is very true, Gentlemen, that we can attest.

Skin. Pray Doctor, let me see this Will; read it if you please.

Doct. Sir Isaac Skinflint being seated in his great Chair—um underwritten—Sound Senses tho' infirm in Body.

Skin. No matter for the Preamble.

Doct. Um, um, um, committed to writing his underwritten Will, in Manner and Form following; Imprimis, I will that all my Debts be paid.

Skin. Debts! I do not owe one Shilling in the World.

Doct. You forget, Sir Isaac, you owe for the Nursing of a Bastard Child at Wandsor, and several little dribbling Debts where you used to meet your Wenches.

Skin. How a Bastard; why I never had a Bastard in my Life—but once—and that was forty years ago with a great red Hair Wench, a Maid that my Father had—but it was when I was a Lad and I did not know what I was about.

Doct. Item, I do constitute my Nephew Bellair whole and sole Executor, disinheriting and cutting off all other Persons.

Skin. This is a scene of Villainy.

Doct. Saving those hereafter mentioned-unto Harriet Lovewealth my Niece that shall be, I do bequeath the set of Diamond Bracelets—Mortgaged by the——

Skin. This is all a Robbery.

Coun. Let 'em go on, Sir Isaac, you have your Remedy.

Skin. This is all a Robbery.

Doct. To my Maid Lucy, one thousand pounds.

Skin. O monstrous; I never intended to give her a Farthing.

Doct. Item, to that honest Fellow Slipstring Shark.

Shar. That is me, Sir Isaac, and I humbly thank your Honour.

Doct. I bequeath him three hundred pounds per Annum during his natural Life, to be paid out of that part of my Estate he shall think proper.

Shar. O blessings on your generous Heart. It was always fond of rewarding Merit.

Skin. Read no more—I'll have every one of you indicted for Forgery—and Conspiracy and—first take Notice, Councellour Cormorant and Monsieur du Maigre, that I deny that Will to be any Act of mine—and that I cancel it to all Intents and Purposes.

Doct. That you can't do, Sir—for by way of Marriage Articles between Bellair and Harriet Lovewealth you have signed a Deed conformable to this Will.

Skin. Why this is such a piece of Villainy as the Records of Westminster Hall cannot match.

Coun. Do not be uneasy Sir Isaac, you have one, and one certain way of oversetting all their Villainy; and that is by confessing that you made this Will, and proving that you were out of your Senses when you did it, which may easily be done by proper Witnesses. (Aside)

Skin. I'll confess that or anything—to get my money again, and to hang them all—Doctor Leatherhead, I begin now to remember something of the making of this Will,—but I can prove I was lightheaded and out of my Senses when I did it.

Doct. Sir Isaac, it is no Affair of mine.—It is your Nephew's Concern; if he is willing to let such Chicane pass upon him, he may; but if he has a Mind to insist upon the Will, I'll undertake to prove you were in your Senses as perfectly as ever you were in your Life.

Skin. And will you insist, Nephew?

Bell. It is not in my Power to be off it, Sir, for in consequence that you were sincere when you made this Will, my Lady Lovewealth here has given me her Daughter, and her own Chaplain has just now put the finishing hand to the Business in the next Room, before all these Witnesses.

Skin. So you won't resign?

Bell. I can't, Sir.

Skin. Come along, Mr. Cormorant, I'll hamper them all—I'll prove myself out of my Senses before I sleep. (Exit Skinflint and Cormorant)

Maigre. By gar, dis be all ver great, much Surprize upon me, van, pardie, pardie make the Man make a de Vill veder he will or no, and de Man say he will prove dat he be Lunatic and lightheaded—by gar, me never hear de like in France, pardie, etc. etc.(Exit)

Shar. Well I believe this Affair is over for tonight; and upon my Word, I am heartily glad of it, for I have been in very sweating Circumstances ever since it began, but especially since Sir Isaac came to Life. I was afraid that single incident would have damned our whole Intrigue; but thanks to the Gentlemen of the Gown, I now begin to have some hopes we shall succeed. I have done my Master's Business completely, and as Executors go, I do not think that I have been too partial to myself—I believe there are several honest Gentlemen who walk the 'Change and go to Church constantly [who] would have thought they acted very generously if they had given Bellair even an equal Dividend—but I beg Pardon—you are to judge, not I, and unless you approve the Deed, I shall denounce my Share of the Legacy.

FINIS

THE NEW PLAY CRITICIZED:

OR

THE PLAGUE OF ENVY [5]

PROLOGUE [6]

P.S. You may send it to the Barbers.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

CANKER LADY CRITICK

HEARTLY HARRIET

SIR PATRICK BASHFULL MRS. CHATTER

NIBBLE

TRIFLE

PLAGIARY

GRUBWIT

BUMPKIN

FOOTMAN

Scene in Lady CRITICK's House

The Time an hour after the New Play on the first Night

THE NEW PLAY CRITICIZED:

OR

THE PLAGUE OF ENVY

(Enter CANKER and FOOTMAN)

Cank. Is not my Man come in yet?

Foot. No, Sir.

Cank. Pray will you oblige me by letting one of your Servants step to Covent Garden Playhouse to look for him.

Foot. I'll go myself, Sir; for I shan't be wanted 'till my Lady comes from the Play.(Exit)

Cank. Let me see (pulling out his Watch) 'tis now half an hour after Seven. By this time the Fate of the Suspicious Husband is determined; applauded to the Skies; or damned beyond Redemption; its Author crowned with Laurel, or covered with Shame. Sure they can't approve it! And yet the Stings I felt at the reading [of] it give me presaging Pangs of its Success. (Sighs deeply) It has its Beauties I must confess. Why should I thus grieve at a young Author's approaching Fame? His Throes and Pangs lest it should fail have been far short of mine lest it should succeed; nor would the Author's Joy for its kind Reception equal my secret Rapture at its irretrievable Disgrace. What is this that like a slow but infallible Poison corrodes my Vitals and destroys my Peace of Mind? Emulation? (Shakes his head and sighs) I am afraid the World will call it Envy. All Mankind has some, but Authors most; and we can better brook a Rival in our Love than in our Fame. What can detain this Rascal? I am upon the Rack to know how it goes on—let me see, in what Manner would I have it treated? In the first Act I would have them applaud it violently,—in the second and third be coldly attentive,—in the fourth begin to groan, horse laugh and whistle,—and in the fifth just before the Catastrophe, one and all cry aloud, off, off, off! The Epilogue! The Epilogue! O that would be delightful! Exquisite!

(Enter FOOTMAN)

So Sir! You Blockhead, how came you to stay so long? But first tell me how the Play was received; whereabouts did they begin to hiss?

Foot. Hiss! he, he, he, Lard, Zir, why they did not hiss at all.

Cank. You lye, you Rascal! (Gives him a box)

Foot. Zir!

Cank. I say they did hiss.

Foot. Hiss quotha!—I am zure you have made my Ear hiss—and zing too, I think; why pray Zir, what did'st give me such a Wherrit var?

Cank. How shamefully I expose my weakness to my Servant. I would know the truth, but I cannot bear to hear it. (Aside) Come, Sir, tell me (Sits down in a great Chair) how was it received? But first what made you stay so long? Did I not order you to hearken at the Pit Door and bring me Word at the end of every Act how it went on?

Foot. Yes Zir; you did zo, Zir; but the Vauk zhut the Door, and then I could zee nothing at all o' the Matter.—Zo I begged them to open the door as I might zee through it; but they were zo ztout that they would do no zuch thing, they zaid. Zo then I went up to the Lobby—and there I met with an auld Vellow Zervant out of Zomersetshire. Zo he and I went up to the Footman's Gallery that I might give my Vardie of the matter to your Honour when I came Home.

Cank. And why did you not come away at the End of the first Act?

Foot. Why faith to tell your Honour the truth it made me laugh zo I could not vind in my Heart to leave it.

Cank. Rascal, how dare you tell me it made you laugh? (Strikes him)

Foot. No indeed, Zir, it was a mistake of mine; I mean it made me cry zo I could not leave it.

Cank. Leave your blundering, you blockhead, and tell me how it was received; did they hiss it?

Foot. Yes Zir, yes Zir, there was as much hizzing as when your Tragedy was acted.