ACT II.

SCENE.—A handsome Apartment well lighted, Tea, Cards, &c.—A large party of Ladies and Gentlemen; among them MELESINDA.

1st Lady. I wonder when the charming man will be here.

2d Lady. He is a delightful creature. Such a polish—

3d Lady. Such an air in all that he does or says—

4th Lady. Yet gifted with a strong understanding—

5th Lady. But has your ladyship the remotest idea of what his true name is?

1st Lady. They say, his very servants do not know it. His French valet, that has lived with him these two years—

2d Lady. There, Madam, I must beg leave to set you right; my coachman—

1st Lady. I have it from the very best authority; my footma—-

2d Lady. Then, Madam, you have set your servants on—

1st Lady. No, Madam, I would scorn any such little mean ways of coming at a secret. For my part, I don't think any secret of that consequence.

2d Lady. That's just like me; I make a rule of troubling my head with nobody's business but my own.

Melesinda. But then, she takes care to make everybody's business her own, and so to justify herself that way— (Aside.)

1st Lady. My dear Melesinda, you look thoughtful.

Melesinda. Nothing.

2d Lady. Give it a name.

Melesinda. Perhaps it is nameless.

1st Lady. As the object—Come, never blush, nor deny it, child. Bless me, what great ugly thing is that, that dangles at your bosom?

Melesinda. This? It is a cross: how do you like it?

2d Lady. A cross! Well, to me it looks for all the world like a great staring H.

(Here a general laugh.)

Melesinda. Malicious creatures! Believe me it is a cross, and nothing but a cross.

1st Lady. A cross, I believe, you would willingly hang at.

Melesinda. Intolerable spite!

(MR. H. is announced.)

Enter MR. H.

1st Lady. O, Mr. H., we are so glad—

2d Lady. We have been so dull—

3rd Lady. So perfectly lifeless—You owe it to us to be more than commonly entertaining.

Mr. H. Ladies, this is so obliging—

4th Lady. O, Mr. H., those ranunculas you said were dying, pretty things, they have got up—

5th Lady. I have worked that sprig you commended—I want you to come—

Mr. H. Ladies—

6th Lady. I have sent for that piece of music from London.

Mr. H. The Mozart (seeing MELESINDA)—Melesinda!

Several Ladies at once. Nay, positively, Melesinda, you shan't engross him all to yourself.

[While the ladies are pressing about MR. H., the gentlemen show signs of displeasure.

1st Gent. We shan't be able to edge in a word, now this coxcomb is come.

2d Gent. Damn him, I will affront him.

1st Gent. Sir, with your leave, I have a word to say to one of these ladies.

2d Gent. If we could be heard—

[The Ladies pay no attention but to MR. H.

Mr. H. You see, gentlemen, how the matter stands. (Hums an air.) I am not my own master: positively I exist and breathe but to be agreeable to these—Did you speak?

1st Gent. And affects absence of mind—Puppy!

Mr. H. Who spoke of absence of mind; did you, Madam? How do you do, Lady Wearwell—how do? I did not see your ladyship before—what was I about to say—O—absence of mind. I am the most unhappy dog in that way, sometimes spurt out the strangest things—the most mal-à-propos—without meaning to give the least offence, upon my honor—sheer absence of mind—things I would have given the world not to have said.

1st Gent. Do you hear the coxcomb?

1st Lady. Great wits, they say—

2d Lady. Your fine geniuses are most given—

3d Lady. Men of bright parts are commonly too vivacious—

Mr. H. But you shall hear. I was to dine the other day at a great Nabob's that must be nameless, who, between ourselves, is strongly suspected of—being very rich, that's all. John, my valet, who knows my foible, cautioned me, while he was dressing me, as he usually does where he thinks there's a danger of my committing a lapsus, to take care in my conversation how I made any allusion direct or indirect to presents—you understand me? I set out double charged with my fellow's consideration and my own; and, to do myself justice, behaved with tolerable circumspection for the first half-hour or so,—till at last a gentleman in company, who was indulging a free vein of raillery at the expense of the ladies, stumbled upon that expression of the poet, which calls them "fair defects."

1st Lady. It is Pope, I believe, who says it.

Mr. H. No, Madam; Milton. Where was I? Oh, "fair defects." This gave occasion to a critic in company, to deliver his opinion on the phrase—that led to an enumeration of all the various words which might have been used instead of "defect," as want, absence, poverty, deficiency, lack. This moment I, who had not been attending to the progress of the argument (as the denouement will show) starting suddenly up out of one of my reveries, by some unfortunate connection of ideas, which the last fatal word had excited, the devil put it into my head to turn round to the Nabob, who was sitting next me, and in a very marked manner (as it seemed to the company) to put the question to him, Pray, sir, what may be the exact value of a lack of rupees? You may guess the confusion which followed.

1st Lady. What a distressing circumstance!

2d Lady. To a delicate mind——

3d Lady. How embarrassing——

4th Lady. I declare, I quite pity you.

1st Gent. Puppy!

Mr. H. A Baronet at the table, seeing my dilemma, jogged my elbow; and a good-natured Duchess, who does everything with a grace peculiar to herself, trod on my toes at that instant: this brought me to myself, and—covered with blushes, and pitied by all the ladies—I withdrew.

1st Lady. How charmingly he tells a story.

2nd Lady. But how distressing!

Mr.H. Lord Squandercounsel, who is my particular friend, was pleased to rally me in his inimitable way upon it next day. I shall never forget a sensible thing he said on the occasion—speaking of absence of mind, my foible—says he, my dear Hogs—

Several Ladies. Hogs—what—ha—

Mr.H. My dear Hogsflesh—my name—(here a universal scream)—O my cursed unfortunate tongue! H. I mean—where was I?

1st Lady. Filthy—abominable!

2nd Lady. Unutterable!

3rd Lady. Hogs—foh!

4th Lady. Disgusting!

5th Lady. Vile!

6th Lady. Shocking!

1st Lady. Odious!

2nd Lady. Hogs—pah!

3rd Lady. A smelling-bottle—look to Miss Melesinda. Poor thing! it is no wonder. You had better keep off from her, Mr. Hogsflesh, and not be pressing about her in her circumstances.

1st Gent. Good time of day to you, Mr.Hogsflesh.

2nd Gent. The compliments of the season to you, Mr. Hogsflesh.

Mr.H. This is too much—flesh and blood cannot endure it.

1st Gent. What flesh?—hog's-flesh?

2nd Gent. How he sets up his bristles!

Mr. H. Bristles!

1st Gent. He looks as fierce as a hog in armor.

Mr. H. A hog!—Madam!—(here he severally accosts the Ladies, who by turns repel him.)

1st Lady. Extremely obliged to you for your attentions; but don't want a partner.

2d Lady. Greatly flattered by your preference: but believe I shall remain single.

3d Lady. Shall always acknowledge your politeness; but have no thoughts of altering my condition.

4th Lady. Always be happy to respect you as a friend; but you must not look for anything further.

5th Lady. No doubt of your ability to make any woman happy; but have no thoughts of changing my name.

6th Lady. Must tell you, Sir, that if, by your insinuations, you think to prevail with me, you have got the wrong sow by the ear. Does he think any lady would go to pig with him?

Old Lady. Must beg you to be less particular in your addresses to me. Does he take me for a Jew, to long after forbidden meats?

Mr. H. I shall go mad!—to be refused by old Mother Damnable—she that's so old, nobody knows whether she was ever manned or no, but passes for a maid by courtesy; her juvenile exploits being beyond the farthest stretch of tradition!—Old Mother Damnable!

[Exeunt all, either pitying or seeming to avoid him.

SCENE.—The Street.

BELVIL and another Gentleman.

Belvil. Poor Jack, I am really sorry for him. The account which you give me of his mortifying change of reception at the assembly, would be highly diverting if it gave me less pain to hear it. With all his amusing absurdities, and amongst them not the least, a predominant desire to be thought well of by the fair sex, he has an abundant share of good-nature, and is a man of honor. Notwithstanding all that has happened, Melesinda may do worse than take him yet. But did the women resent it so deeply as you say?

Gent. O intolerably—they fled him as fearfully when 'twas once blown, as a man would be avoided, who was suddenly discovered to have marks of the plague, and as fast; when before they had been ready to devour the foolishest thing he could say.

Belvil Ha! ha! so frail is the tenure by which these women's favorites commonly hold their envied preëminence. Well, I must go find him out and comfort him. I suppose, I shall find him at the inn.

Gent. Either there or at Melesinda's—Adieu!

[Exeunt.

SCENE.—Mr. H——'s Apartment.

Mr. H. (solus.) Was ever anything so mortifying? to be refused by old Mother Damnable!—with such parts and address,—and the little squeamish devils, to dislike me for a name, a sound.—Oh my cursed name! that it was something I could be revenged on! if it were alive, that I might tread upon it, or crush it, or pummel it, or kick it, or spit it out—for it sticks in my throat, and will choke me.

My plaguy ancestors! if they had left me but a Van, or a Mac, or an Irish O', it had been something to qualify it.—Mynheer Van Hogsflesh,—or Sawney Mac Hogsflesh,—or Sir Phelim O'Hogsflesh,—but downright blunt———. If it had been any other name in the world, I could have borne it. If it had been the name of a beast, as Bull, Fox, Kid, Lamb, Wolf, Lion; or of a bird, as Sparrow, Hawk, Buzzard, Daw, Finch, Nightingale; or of a fish, as Sprat, Herring, Salmon; or the name of a thing, as Ginger, Hay, Wood; or of a color, as Black, Gray, White, Green; or of a sound, as Bray; or the name of a month, as March, May; or of a place, as Barnet, Baldock, Hitchen; or the name of a coin, as Farthing, Penny, Twopenny; or of a profession, as Butcher, Baker, Carpenter, Piper, Fisher, Fletcher, Fowler, Glover; or a Jew's name, as Solomons, Isaacs, Jacobs; or a personal name, as Foot, Leg, Crookshanks, Heaviside, Sidebottom, Longbottom, Ramsbottom, Winterbottom; or a long name, as Blanchenhagen, or Blanchenhausen; or a short name, as Crib, Crisp, Crips, Tag, Trot, Tub, Phips, Padge, Papps, or Prig, or Wig, or Pip, or Trip; Trip had been something, but Ho—-. (Walks about in great agitation—recovering his calmness a little, sits down.)

Farewell the most distant thoughts of marriage; the finger-circling ring, the purity figuring glove, the envy-pining bridemaids, the wishing parson, and the simpering clerk. Farewell the ambiguous blush-raising joke, the titter-provoking pun, the morning-stirring drum.—No son of mine shall exist, to bear my ill-fated name. No nurse come chuckling, to tell me it is a boy. No midwife, leering at me from under the lids of professional gravity. I dreamed of caudle.—(Sings in a melancholy tone.) Lullaby, Lullaby,—hush-a-by-baby—how like its papa it is!—(Makes motions as if he was nursing.) And then, when grown up, "Is this your son, Sir?" "Yes, Sir, a poor copy of me, a sad young dog,—just what his father was at his age,—I have four more at home." Oh! oh! oh!

Enter LANDLORD.

Mr. H. Landlord, I must pack up tonight; you will see all my things got ready.

Landlord. Hope your Honor does not intend to quit the Blue Boar,—sorry anything has happened.

Mr. H. He has heard it all.

Landlord. Your Honor has had some mortification to be sure, as a man may say; you have brought your pigs to a fine market.

Mr. H. Pigs!

Landlord. What then? take old Pry's advice, and never mind it. Don't scorch your crackling for 'em, Sir.

Mr. H. Scorch my crackling! a queer phrase; but I suppose he don't mean to affront me.

Landlord. What is done can't be undone; you can't make a silken purse out of a sow's ear.

Mr. H. As you say, Landlord, thinking of a thing does but augment it.

Landlord. Does but hogment it, indeed, Sir.

Mr. H. Hogment it! damn it, I said augment it.

Landlord. Lord, Sir, 'tis not everybody has such gift of fine phrases as your Honor, that can lard his discourse—

Mr. H. Lard!

Landlord. Suppose they do smoke you—

Mr. H. Smoke me!

Landlord. One of my phrases; never mind my words, Sir, my meaning is good. We all mean the same thing, only you express yourself one way, and I another, that's all. The meaning's the same; it is all pork.

Mr. H. That's another of your phrases, I presume.

[Bell rings, and the Landlord called for.

Landlord. Anon, anon.

Mr. H. Oh, I wish I were anonymous.

[Exeunt several ways.

SCENE.—Melesinda's Apartment.

MELESINDA and Maid.

Maid. Lord, Madam! before I'd take on as you do about a foolish—what signifies a name? Hogs—Hogs—what is it—is just as good as any other, for what I see.

Melesinda. Ignorant creature! yet she is perhaps blest in the absence of those ideas, which, while they add a zest to the few pleasures which fall to the lot of superior natures to enjoy, doubly edge the——

Maid. Superior natures! a fig! If he's hog by name, he's not hog by nature, that don't follow—his name don't make him anything, does it? He don't grunt the more for it, nor squeak, that ever I hear; he likes his victuals out of a plate, as other Christians do; you never see him go to the trough——-

Melesinda. Unfeeling wretch! yet possibly her intentions——

Maid. For instance, Madam, my name is Finch—Betty Finch. I don't whistle the more for that, nor long after canary-seed while I can get good wholesome mutton—no, nor you can't catch me by throwing salt on my tail. If you come to that, hadn't I a young man used to come after me, they said courted me—his name was Lion, Francis Lion, a tailor; but though he was fond enough of me, for all that he never offered to eat me.

Melesinda. How fortunate that the discovery has been made before it was too late! Had I listened to his deceits, and, as the perfidious man had almost persuaded me, precipitated myself into an inextricable engagement before——-

Maid. No great harm if you had. You'd only have bought a pig in a poke—and what then? Oh, here he comes creeping——-

Enter MR. H. abject.

Go to her, Mr. Hogs—Hogs—Hogsbristles, what's your name? Don't be afraid, man—don't give it up—she's not crying—only summat has made her eyes red—she has got a sty in her eye, I believe—— (going.)

Melesinda. You are not going, Betty?

Maid. O, Madam, never mind me—I shall be back in the twinkling of a pig's whisker, as they say.

[Exit.

Mr. H. Melesinda, you behold before you a wretch who would have betrayed your confidence—but it was love that prompted him; who would have trick'd you, by an unworthy concealment, into a participation of that disgrace which a superficial world has agreed to attach to a name—but with it you would have shared a fortune not contemptible, and a heart—but 'tis over now. That name he is content to bear alone—to go where the persecuted syllables shall be no more heard, or excite no meaning—some spot where his native tongue has never penetrated, nor any of his countrymen have landed, to plant their unfeeling satire, their brutal wit, and national ill manners—where no Englishmen—(Here MELESINDA, who has been pouting during this speech, fetches a deep sigh.) Some yet undiscovered Otaheite, where witless, unapprehensive savages shall innocently pronounce the ill-fated sounds, and think them not inharmonious.

Melesinda. Oh!

Mr. H. Who knows but among the female natives might be found——

Melesinda. Sir! (raising her head.)

Mr. H. One who would be more kind than—some Oberea—Queen Oberea.

Melesinda. Oh!

Mr. H. Or what if I were to seek for proofs of reciprocal esteem among unprejudiced African maids, in Monomotopa?

Enter Servant.

Servant. Mr. Belvil.

[Exit.

Enter BELVIL.

Mr. H. Monomotopa (musing.)

Belvil. Heyday, Jack! what means this mortified face? nothing has happened, I hope, between this lady and you? I beg pardon, Madam, but understanding my friend was with you, I took the liberty of seeking him here. Some little difference possibly which a third person can adjust—not a word. Will you, Madam, as this gentleman's friend, suffer me to be the arbitrator—strange—hark'ee, Jack, nothing has come out, has there? you understand me. Oh, I guess how it is—somebody has got at your secret; you haven't blabbed it yourself, have you? ha! ha! ha! I could find in my heart—Jack, what would you give me if I should relieve you?

Mr. H. No power of man can relieve me (sighs); but it must lie at the root, gnawing at the root—here it will lie.

Belvil. No power of man? not a common man, I grant you: for instance, a subject—it's out of the power of any subject.

Mr. H. Gnawing at the root—there it will lie.

Belvil. Such a thing has been known as a name to be changed; but not by a subject—(shows a Gazette).

Mr. H. Gnawing at the root—(suddenly snatches the paper out of BELVIL'S hand)—ha! pish! nonsense! give it me—what! (reads) promotions, bankrupts—a great many bankrupts this week—there it will lie. (Lays it down, takes it up again, and reads.) "The King has been graciously pleased"—gnawing at the root—"graciously pleased to grant unto John Hogsflesh,"—the devil—"Hogsflesh, Esq., of Sty Hall, in the county of Hants, his royal license and authority"—O Lord! O Lord!—"that he and his issue"—me and my issue—"may take and use the surname and arms of Bacon"—Bacon, the surname and arms of Bacon—"in pursuance of an injunction contained in the last will and testament of Nicholas Bacon, Esq., his late uncle, as well as out of grateful respect to his memory:"—grateful respect! poor old soul——-here's more—"and that such arms may be first duly exemplified "—they shall, I will take care of that—"according to the laws of arms, and recorded in the Herald's Office."

Belvil. Come, Madam, give me leave to put my own interpretation upon your silence, and to plead for my friend, that now that only obstacle which seemed to stand in the way of your union is removed, you will suffer me to complete the happiness which my news seems to have brought him, by introducing him with a new claim to your favor, by the name of Mr. Bacon. (Takes their hands and joins them, which MELESINDA seems to give consent to with a smile.)

Mr. H. Generous Melesinda! my dear friend—"he and his issue," me and my issue!—O Lord!—

Belvil. I wish you joy, Jack, with all my heart.

Mr. H. Bacon, Bacon, Bacon—how odd it sounds! I could never be tired of hearing it. There was Lord Chancellor Bacon. Methinks I have some of the Verulam blood in me already.—Methinks I could look through Nature—there was Friar Bacon, a conjurer,—I feel as if I could conjure too——

Enter a Servant.

Servant. Two young ladies and an old lady are at the door, inquiring if you see company, Madam.

Mr. H. "Surname and arms"—

Melesinda. Show them up.—My dear Mr. Bacon, moderate your joy.

Enter three Ladies, being part of those who were at the Assembly.

1st Lady. My dear Melesinda, how do you do?

2nd Lady. How do you do? We have been so concerned for you——-

Old Lady. We have been so concerned—(seeing him)—Mr. Hogsflesh——-

Mr. H. There's no such person—nor there never was—nor 'tis not fit there should be—"surname and arms"—

Belvil. It is true what my friend would express; we have been all in a mistake, ladies. Very true, the name of this gentleman was what you call it, but it is so no longer. The succession to the long-contested Bacon estate is at length decided, and with it my friend succeeds to the name of his deceased relative.

Mr. H. "His Majesty has been graciously pleased"—

1st Lady. I am sure we all join in hearty congratulation—(sighs).

2nd Lady. And wish you joy with all our hearts— (heigh ho!)

Old Lady. And hope you will enjoy the name and estate many years—(cries).

Belvil. Ha! ha! ha! mortify them a little, Jack.

1st Lady. Hope you intend to stay—

2nd Lady. With us some time—

Old Lady. In these parts—

Mr. H. Ladies, for your congratulations I thank you; for the favors you have lavished on me, and in particular for this lady's (turning to the old Lady) good opinion, I rest your debtor. As to any future favors—(accosts them severally in the order in which he was refused by them at the assembly)—Madam, shall always acknowledge your politeness; but at present, you see, I am engaged with a partner. Always be happy to respect you as a friend, but you must not look for anything further. Must beg of you to be less particular in your addresses to me. Ladies all, with this piece of advice, of Bath and you

Your ever grateful servant takes his leave.

Lay your plans surer when you plot to grieve;

See, while you kindly mean to mortify

Another, the wild arrow do not fly,

And gall yourself. For once you've been mistaken;

Your shafts have miss'd their aim—Hogsflesh has

saved his Bacon.