Act 1 — ACT I. SCENE I.

SCENE Uncle Richard's House.

Uncle Richard solus.

What prudent cares does this deep foreseeing nation take, for the support of its worshipful families! In order to which, and that they may not fail to be always significant and useful in their country, it is a settled foundation-point that every child that is born shall be a beggar——except one; and that he——shall be a fool——My grandfather was bred a fool, as the country report: my father was a fool,——as my mother used to say; my brother was a fool, to my own knowledge, though a great justice of the peace; and he has left a son, that will make his son a fool, or I am mistaken. The lad is now fourteen years old, and but just out of his Psalter. As to his honour'd father, my much esteem'd nephew, here I have him. [Shewing a letter.] In this proprofound epistle (which I have just now received) there is the top and bottom of him. Forty years and two is the age of him; in which it is computed by his butler, his own person has drank two and thirty ton of ale. The rest of his time has been employed in persecuting all the poor four-legg'd creatures round, that wou'd but run away fast enough from him, to give him the high-mettled pleasure of running after them. In this noble employ he has broke his right arm, his left leg, and both his collar-bones——Once he broke his neck, but that did him no harm: A nimble hedge leaper, a brother of the stirrup that was by, whipt off his horse and mended it. His estate being left him with two jointures, and three weighty mortgages upon it, he to make all easy, and pay his brother's and sister's portions, married a profuse young housewife for love, with never a penny of money. Having done all this, like his brave ancestors, for the support of the family, he now finds children and interest money make such a bawling about his ears, that he has taken the friendly advice of his neighbour, the good Lord Courtlove, to run his estate two thousand pounds more in debt, that he may retrieve his affairs by being a parliament-man, and bringing his wife to London, to play off an hundred pounds at dice with ladies of quality, before breakfast.

But let me read this wiseacre's letter once over again.

Most Honoured Uncle,

I do not doubt but you have much rejoiced at my success, in my election; it has cost me some money, I own: but what of all that! I am a parliament-man, and that will set all to rights. I have lived in the country all my days, 'tis true; but what then! I have made speeches at the sessions, and in the vestry too, and can elsewhere perhaps, as well as some others that do; and I have a noble friend hard by, who has let me into some small knowledge of what's what at Westminster. And so that I may always be at hand to serve my country, I have consulted with my wife, about taking a house at London, and bringing her and my family up to town; which, her opinion is, will be the rightest thing in the world.

My wife's opinion about bringing her to London! I'll read no more of thee——Beast.

[Strikes the letter down with his stick.

Enter James hastily.

James. Sir, Sir, do you hear the news? they are all a-coming.

Unc. Rich. Ay, sirrah, I hear it with a pox to it.

James. Sir, here's John Moody arriv'd already; he's stumping about the streets in his dirty boots, and asking every man he meets, if they can tell where he may have a good lodging for a parliament-man, 'till he can hire such a house as becomes him; he tells them his lady and all the family are coming too, and that they are so nobly attended, they care not a fig for any body. Sir, they have added two cart-horses to the four old geldings, because my lady will have it said, she came to town in her coach and six, and (ha, ha,) heavy George the plowman rides postillion.

Unc. Rich. Very well; the journey begins as it shou'd do——James.

James. Sir.

Unc. Rich. Dost know whether they bring all the children with them?

James. Only 'Squire Humphry, and Miss Betty, Sir; the other six are put to board at half a crown a week a head, with Joan Growse, at Smoke-Dunghill farm.

Unc. Rich. The Lord have mercy upon all good folks! what work will these people make! dost know when they'll be here?

James. John says, Sir, they'd have been here last night, but that the old wheezy-belly horse tir'd, and the two fore-wheels came crash down at once in Waggonrut-lane. Sir, they were cruelly loaden, as I understand; my lady herself, he says, laid on four mail trunks, besides the great deal-box, which fat Tom sat upon behind.

Unc. Rich. Soh!

James. Then within the coach there was Sir Francis, my Lady, and the great fat lap-dog, 'Squire Humphry, Miss Betty, my Lady's maid Mrs. Handy, and Doll Tripe the cook; but she puked with sitting backward, so they mounted her into the coach-box.

Unc. Rich. Very well.

James. Then, Sir, for fear of a famine, before they should get to the baiting-place, there was such baskets of plumb-cake, Dutch-gingerbread, Cheshire-cheese, Naples-biscuits, Macaroons, Neats-tongues, and cold boil'd beef——and in case of sickness, such bottles of usquebaugh, black cherry-brandy, cinamon-water, sack, tent, and strong beer, as made the old coach crack again.

Unc. Rich. Well said!

James. And for defence of this good cheer, and my Lady's little pearl necklace, there was the family basket-hilt sword, the great Turkish cimiter, the old blunderbuss, a good bag of bullets, and a great horn of gunpowder.

Unc. Rich. Admirable!

James. Then for band-boxes, they were so bepiled up to Sir Francis's nose, that he could only peep out at a chance hole with one eye, as if he were viewing the country thro' a perspective glass. But, Sir, if you please, I'll go look after John Moody a little for fear of accidents: For he never was in London before, you know, but one week, and then he was kidnapp'd into a house of ill repute, where he exchang'd all his money and clothes for a——um. So I'll go look after him, Sir.

[Exit.

Unc. Rich. Nay, I don't doubt but this wise expedition will be attended with more adventures than one.——This noble head, and supporter of his family, will, as an honest country gentleman, get credit enough amongst the tradesmen, to run so far in debt in one session, as will make him just fit for a gaol, when he's drop'd at the next election. He will make his speeches in the house to shew the government of what importance he can be to them, by which they will see, he can be of no importance at all; and he will find in time, that he stands valued at (if he votes right) being sometimes——invited to dinner. Then his wife (who has ten times more of a jade about her than he yet knows of) will so improve in this rich soil, she will, in one month, learn every vice the finest lady in the town can teach her. She will be extremely courteous to the fops who make love to her in jest, and she will be extremely grateful to those who do it in earnest. She will visit all ladies that will let her into their houses, and she will run in debt to all the shopkeepers that will let her into their books. In short, before her husband has got five pound by a speech at Westminster, she will have lost five hundred at cards and dice in the parish of St. James's. Wife and family to London with a pox!

[Going off.

Enter James and John Moody.

James. Dear John Moody, I'm so glad to see you in London once more.

John Moody. And I you, my dear James: Give me a kiss——Why that's friendly.

James. I wish they had been so, John, that you met with when you were here before.

John Moody. Ah——Murrain upon all rogues and whores, I say: But I am grown so cunning now, the de'el himself can't handle me. I have made a notable bargain for these lodgings here, we are to pay but five pounds a week, and have all the house to ourselves.

James. Where are the people that belong to it to be then?

John Moody. O! there's only the gentlewoman, her two maids, and a cousin, a very pretty civil young woman truly, and the maids are the merriest griggs——

James. Have a care, John.

John Moody. O, fear nothing, we did so play together last night.

James. Hush, here comes my master.

Enter Uncle Richard.

Unc. Rich. What! John has taken these lodgings, has he?

James. Yes, Sir, he has taken 'em.

Unc. Rich. Oh John! how dost do, honest John? I am glad to see thee with all my heart.

John Moody. I humbly thank your worship. I'm staut still, and a faithful awd servant to th' family. Heaven prosper aw that belong to't.

Unc. Rich. What, they are all upon the road?

John Moody. As mony as the awd coach wou'd hauld, Sir: the Lord send 'em well to tawn.

Unc. Rich. And well out on't again, John, ha!

John Moody. Ah, Sir! you are a wise man, so am I: home's home, I say. I wish we get any good here. I's sure we got little upo' the road. Some mischief or other aw the day long. Slap goes one thing, crack goes another; my Lady cries out for driving fast: The awd cattle are for going slow; Roger whips, they stand still and kick; nothing but a sort of a contradiction aw the journey long. My Lady wou'd gladly have been here last night, Sir, tho' there was no lodging got; but her Ladyship said, she did naw care for that, she'd lie in the inn where the horses stood, as long as it was in London.

Unc. Rich. These ladies, these ladies, John——

John Moody. Ah, Sir, I have seen a little of 'em, tho' not so much as my betters. Your worship is naw married yet?

Unc. Rich. No, John no; I am an old batchelor still.

John Moody. Heav'ns bless you and preserve you, Sir.

Unc. Rich. I think you have lost your good woman, John!

John Moody. No, sir, that I have not; Bridget sticks to me still, Sir, she was for coming to London too, but, no, says I, there may be mischief enough done without you.

Unc. Rich. Why that was bravely spoken, John, and like a man.

John Moody. Sir, were my measter but haf the mon that I am, Gadswookers——tho' he'll speak stautly too sometimes, but then he canno hawd it; no, he canno hawd it.

Enter Maid.

Maid. Mr. Moody, Mr. Moody, here's the coach come.

John Moody. Already? no, sure.

Maid. Yes, yes, it's at the door, they are getting out; my mistress is run to receive them.

John Moody. And so will I as in duty bound.

[Exeunt John and maid.

Unc. Rich. And I will stay here, not being in duty bound to do the honours of this house.

Enter Sir Francis, Lady, 'Squire Humphry, Mrs. Betty, Mrs. Handy, Doll Tripe, John Moody, and Mrs. Motherly.

Lady Head. Do you hear, Moody, let all the things be first laid down here, and then carried where they'll be used.

John Moody. They shall, an't please your ladyship.

Lady Head. What, my uncle Richard here to receive us! this is kind indeed: Sir, I am extremely glad to see you.

Unc. Rich. Niece, your servant. [Salutes her.] I am extremely sorry to see you, in the worst place I know in the world for a good woman to grow better in. Nephew, I am your servant too; but I don't know how to bid you welcome.

Sir Fran. I am sorry for that, Sir.

Unc. Rich. Nay, 'tis for your own sake: I'm not concern'd.

Sir Fran. I hope, uncle, I shall give you such weighty reasons for what I've done, as shall convince you I'm a prudent man.

Unc. Rich. That wilt thou never convince me of, whilst thou shalt live.

[Aside.

Sir Fran. Here, Humphry, come up to your uncle——Sir, this is your godson.

Squire Humph. Honour'd uncle and godfather; I creave leave to ask your blessing.

[Kneels.

Unc. Rich. Thou art a numbscull I see already.

[Aside.

There thou hast it. [Puts his hand on his head.] And if it will do thee any good, may it be, to make thee, at least, as wise a man as thy father.

Lady Head. Miss Betty, don't you see your uncle?

Unc. Rich. And for thee, my dear, may'st thou be, at least, as good a woman as thy mother.

Miss Betty. I wish I may ever be so handsome, Sir.

Unc. Rich. Ha! Miss Pert! now that's a thought that seems to have been hatch'd in the girl on this side Highgate.

[Aside.

Sir Fran. Her tongue is a little nimble, Sir.

Lady Head. That's only from her country education, Sir Francis, she has been kept there too long; I therefore brought her to London, Sir, to learn more reserve and modesty.

Unc. Rich. O! the best place in the world for it. Every woman she meets, will teach her something of it. There's the good gentlewoman of the house, looks like a knowing person, ev'n she perhaps will be so good to read her a lesson, now and then, upon that subject. An arrant bawd, or I have no skill in physiognomy.

[Aside.

Mrs. Moth. Alas, Sir, Miss won't stand long in need of my poor instructions; if she does, they'll be always at her service.

Lady Head. Very obliging, indeed, Mrs. Motherly.

Sir Fran. Very kind and civil truly; I believe we are got into a mighty good house here.

Unc. Rich. For good business, very probable.

[Aside.

Well, niece, your servant for to-night; you have a great deal of affairs upon your hands here, so I won't hinder you.

Lady Head. I believe, Sir, I shan't have much less every day, while I stay in this town, of one sort or other.

Unc. Rich. Why, 'tis a town of much action indeed.

Miss Betty. And my mother did not come to it to be idle, Sir.

Unc. Rich. Nor you neither, I dare say, young mistress.

Miss Betty. I hope not, Sir.

Unc. Rich. Um! Miss Mettle.

[Going, Sir Francis following him.

Where are you going, nephew?

Sir Fran. Only to attend you to the door, Sir.

Unc. Rich. Phu! no ceremony with me; you'll find I shall use none with you, or your family.

[Exit.

Sir Fran. I must do as you command me, Sir.

Miss Petty. This uncle Richard, papa, seems but a crusty sort of an old fellow.

Sir Fran. He is a little odd, child, but you must be very civil to him, for he has a great deal of money, and nobody knows who he may give it to.

Lady Head. Phu, a fig for his money; you have so many projects of late about money, since you are a parliament man, we must make ourselves slaves to his testy humours, seven years, perhaps, in hopes to be his heirs; and then, he'll be just old enough to marry his maid. But pray let us take care of our things here: Are they all brought in yet?

Mrs. Han. Almost, my lady, there are only some of the band-boxes behind, and a few odd things.

Lady Head. Let 'em be fetcht in presently.

Mrs. Han. They are here; come bring the things in: Is there all yet?

Serv. All but the great basket of apples and the goose-pye.

Enter Cookmaid.

Cook. Ah my Lady! we're aw undone, the goose-pye's gwon.

All. Gone?

Sir Fran. The goose-pye gone? how?

Cook. Why, Sir, I had got it fast under my arm to bring it in, but being almost dark, up comes two of these thin starv'd London rogues, one gives me a great kick o' the——here; [Laying her hand upon her backside.] while t'other hungry varlet twitch'd the dear pye out of my hands, and away they run dawn street like two grayhounds. I cry'd out fire! but heavy George and fat Tom are after 'em with a vengeance; they'll sauce their jackets for 'em, I'll warrant 'em.

Enter George with a bloody face, and Tom.

So, have you catch'd 'em?

Geo. Catch'd 'em! the gallows catch 'em for me. I had naw run half the length of our beam, before somewhat fetch me such a wherry across the shins, that dawn came I flop o' my face all along in the channel, and thought I shou'd ne'er ha gotten up again; but Tom has skawar'd after them, and cried murder as he'd been stuck.

Tom. Yes, and straight upo' that, swap comes somewhat across my forehead, with such a force, that dawn came I like an ox.

Squire Humph. So, the poor pye's quite gone then.

Tom. Gone, young measter, yeaten, I believe by this time. These, I suppose, are what they call sharpers in this country.

Squire Humph. It was a rare good pye.

Cook. As e'er these hands put pepper to.

Lady Head. Pray, Mrs. Motherly, do they make a practice of these things often here?

Mrs. Moth. Madam, they'll twitch a rump of beef out of a boiling copper: and for a silver tankard, they make no more conscience of than if it were a Tunbridge sugar box.

Sir Fran. I wish the coach and horses, George, were safe got to the inn. Do you and Roger take special care that nobody runs away with them, as you go thither.

Geo. I believe, Sir, our cattle won't yeasily be run away with to-night; but wee'st take best care we con of them, poor sauls!

[Exit.

Sir Fran. Do so, pray now.

Squire Humph. Feather, I had rather they had run away with heavy George than the goose-pye; a slice of it before supper to-night would have been pure.

Lady Head. This boy is always thinking of his belly.

Sir Fran. But, my dear, you may allow him to be a little hungry after a journey.

Lady Head. Pray, good Sir Francis, he has been constantly eating in the coach, and out of the coach, above seven hours this day. I wish my poor girl could eat a quarter as much.

Miss Betty. Mama, I could eat a good deal more than I do, but then I should grow fat mayhap, like him, and spoil my shape.

Lady Head. Mrs. Motherly will you be so kind to tell them where they shall carry the things.

Mrs. Moth. Madam I'll do the best I can: I doubt our closets will scarce hold 'em all, but we have garrets and cellars, which, with the help of hiring a store-room, I hope may do. Sir, will you be so good to help my maids a little in carrying away the things.

[To Tom.

Tom. With all my heart, forsooth, if I con but see my way; but these whoresons have awmost knockt my eyen awt.

[They carry off the things.

Mrs. Moth. Will your ladyship please to refresh yourself with a dish of tea, after your fatigue? I think I have pretty good.

Lady Head. If you please, Mrs. Motherly.

Squire Humph. Would not a good tankard of strong beer, nutmeg and sugar, do better, feather, with a toast and some cheese?

Sir Fran. I think it would, son: Here, John Moody, get us a tankard of good heavy stuff presently.

John Moody. Sir, here's Norfolk Nog to be had next door.

Squire Humph. That's best of all, feather; but make haste with it, John.

[Exit Moody.

Lady Head. Well, I wonder, Sir Francis, you will encourage that lad to swill his guts thus with such beastly lubberly liquor; if it were Burgundy or Champain, something might be said for't; they'd perhaps give him some wit and spirit; but such heavy, muddy stuff as this, will make him quite stupid.

Sir Fran. Why you know, my dear, I have drank good ale, and strong beer these thirty years, and by your permission I don't know, that I want wit.

Miss Betty. But I think you might have more papa, if you'd have been govern'd by my mother.

Enter John Moody with a tankard.

Sir Fran. Daughter, he that is govern'd by his wife, has no wit at all.

Miss Betty. Then I hope I shall marry a fool, father, for I shall love to govern dearly.

Sir Fran. Here, Humphry, here's to thee.

[Drinks.

You are too pert, child it don't do well in a young woman.

Lady Head. Pray, Sir Francis, don't snub her; she has a fine growing spirit, and if you check her so, you'll make her as dull as her brother there.

Squire Humph. Indeed Mother, I think my sister is too forward.

[After drinking a long draught.

Miss Betty. You? you think I'm too forward? what have you to do to think, brother Heavy? you are too fat to think of any thing but your belly.

Lady Head. Well said, Miss; he's none of your master, tho' he's your elder brother.

Enter George.

Geo. Sir, I have no good opinion of this tawn, it's made up of mischief, I think.

Sir Fran. Why, what's the matter now?

Geo. I'se tell your worship; before we were gotten to the street-end, a great lugger-headed cart, with wheels as thick as a good brick wall, layd hawld of the coach, and has pood it aw to bits: an this be London, wo'd we were all weel i' th' country again.

Miss Betty. What have you to do, Sir, to wish us all in the country again, lubber? I hope we shan't go into the country again these seven years, Mama, let twenty coaches be pull'd to pieces.

Sir Fran. Hold your tongue, Betty. Was Roger in no fault of this?

Geo. No, Sir, nor I neither. Are you not asham'd, says Roger to the carter, to do such an unkind thing to strangers? No, says he, you bumkin. Sir, he did the thing on very purpose, and so the folks said that stood by; but they said your worship need na be concerned, for you might have a law-suit with him when you pleas'd, that wou'd not cost you above a hundred pounds, and mayhap you might get the better of him.

Sir Fran. I'll try what I can do with him, I'gad, I'll make such——

Squire Humph. Feather, have him before the parliament.

Sir Fran. And so I will: I'll make him know who I am. Where does he live?

Geo. I believe in London, Sir.

Sir Fran. What's the villain's name?

Geo. I think I heard somebody call him Dick.

Sir Fran. Where did he go?

Geo. Sir, he went home.

Sir Fran. Where's that?

Geo. By my troth I do naw knaw. I heard him say he had nothing more to do with us to-night, and so he'd go home and smoke a pipe.

Lady Head. Come, Sir Francis, don't put yourself in a heat; accidents will happen to people in travelling abroad to see the world. Eat your supper heartily, go to bed, sleep quietly, and to-morrow see if you can buy a handsome second-hand coach for the present use, bespeak a new one, and then all's easy.

[Exeunt.

Enter Colonel Courtly.

Col. Who's that, Deborah?

Deb. At your service, Sir.

Col. What, do you keep open house here? I found the street door as wide as it could gape.

Deb. Sir, we are all in a bustle, we have lodgers come to-night, the house full.

Col. Where's your mistress?

Deb. Prodigious busy with her company, but I'll tell Mrs. Martilla you are here, I believe she'll come to you.

[Exit.

Col. That will do as well. Poor Martilla! she's a very good girl, and I have lov'd her a great while. I think six months it is, since like a merciless highwayman, I made her deliver all she had about her; she begg'd hard, poor thing, I'd leave her one small bauble. Had I let her keep it, I believe she had still kept me. Cou'd women but refuse their ravenous lovers that one dear destructive moment, how long might they reign over them! But for a bane to both their joys and ours, when they have indulg'd us with such favours as make us adore them, they are not able to refuse us that one, which puts an end to our devotion.

Enter Martilla.

Col. Martilla, how dost thou do, my child?

Mart. As well as a losing gamester can.

Col. Why, what have you lost?

Mart. I have lost you.

Col. How came you to lose me?

Mart. By losing myself.

Col. We can be friends still.

Mart. Dull ones.

Col. Useful ones, perhaps. Shall I help thee to a good husband?

Mart. Not if I were rich enough to live without one.

Col. I'm sorry I'm not rich enough to make thee so; but we won't talk of melancholy things. Who are these folks your aunt has got in her house?

Mart. One Sir Francis Headpiece and his Lady, with a son and daughter.

Col. Headpiece! Cotso, I know 'em a little. I met with 'em at a race in the country two years since; a sort of blockhead, is not he?

Mart. So they say.

Col. His wife seem'd a mettlesome gentlewoman, if she had but a fair field to range in.

Mart. That she won't want now, for they stay in town the whole winter.

Col. Oh that will do to shew all her parts in.

Enter Mrs. Motherly.

How do you do, my old acquaintance?

Mrs. Moth. At your service, you know, always colonel.

Col. I hear you have got good company in the house.

Mrs. Moth. I hope it will prove so; he's a parliament man only, colonel, you know there's some danger in that.

Col. O, never fear, he'll pay his landlady, tho' he don't pay his butcher.

Mrs. Moth. His wife's a clever woman.

Col. So she is.

Mrs. Moth. How do you know?

Col. I have seen her in the country, and begin to think I'll visit her in town.

Mrs. Moth. You begin to look like a rogue.

Col. What, your wicked fancies are stirring already?

Mrs. Moth. Yours are, or I'm mistaken. But I'll have none of your pranks play'd upon her.

Col. Why, she's no girl, she can defend herself.

Mrs. Moth. But what if she won't?

Col. Why then she can blame neither you nor me.

Mrs. Moth. You'll never be quiet till you get my windows broke; but I must go and attend my lodgers, so good night.

Col. Do so, and give my service to my lady, and tell her, if she'll give me leave, I'll do myself the honour to-morrow to come and tender my services to her, as long as she stays in town. If it ben't too long.

[Aside.

Mrs. Moth. I'll tell her what a devil you are, and advise her to take care of you.

[Exit.

Col. Do, that will make her every time she sees me think what I'd be at. Dear Martilla, good night; I know you won't be my hindrance; I'll do you as good a turn some time or other. Well, I'm so glad, you don't love me too much.

Mart. When that's our fate, as too, too oft we prove, How bitterly we pay the past delights of love.