Full Citation

  • Title The stratford jubilee. A new comedy of two acts, as it has been lately exhibited at Stratford upon Avon, with great applause. To which is prefixed Scrub's trip to the jubilee
  • Author Gentleman, Francis, 1728-1784
  • Imprint London : printed for T. Lowndes, No. 77, in Fleet-Street, and J. Bell, successor to Mr. Bathoe, near Exeter Exchange in the Strand, M.DCC.LXIX. [1769].
  • Pages 46
  • Language English
  • Microfilm Reel # 576
  • Physical Description [8],40p. ; 8°
  • ESTC Number T48731
  • Source Library British Library
STRATFORD JUBILEE. Ns~Wt C=OMEDY oF W 0 A 'id~ T 9~ AsIT HAS BEEN LATELY RXHIBITED AT STRATFORD UPON. AVON,. WITH ORIAT AJPL AUS.E To which is prefixed ~~~~~~1 a k· U B' r : j U BI Prinitcj siIor LOWNoES4 No. 77, ih FI,.Stsv#1 and .Succeóssor o Mr3 BATHOE, ne..Ex~ir h;- in Are &~td JlDC~C.LXXIX tPRiCZ ~-. NE ·$HILLING~t·. JT- THE STRATFORD JUBILEE, ACT I. SCENE L Enter. Sir John Hearty and Scrapeall. ,i/r a',h, E E T me fee; half pafi five- , L , enough for this evening.- . l, To-morrow by dinner time we l i flhall beat up the quarrers of '- = 8~ my old friend Jack Soakwell; reft with him two or three days, and then for York- sgire.-What think you at present of a bottle of ma- deira and a pipe or two of Oroonoko to entertain us till flipper time ? ScrapealL I would rather be excused from drink- ing any thing Sir John. Sir John. From paying any thing you mean-.rot- the money old boy, what was it made for but circula- tion? why, you have more of it than you can count, and yet take as little enjoyment of life as if ) u,was not worth a single ihilling. 1B Scrape- Scrapeall (Economy-ceconomy is a very fine thing Sir John. Sir Ycdm. Ay, ay, we have heard of that docrine sufficiently of late-but for.my own part,'I would have every man live according to his station and cir- cumfitances-not diigrace and starve himself for the fake of hoarding rascally pelf--therefore now I have got you out of the fioke of London you shall bleed a little.-Here, house!- [Rings. Scrapeall. I never loved bleeding in my life; nei- ther from my veins nor pockets. Enter Longcork. Lang. Coming, Sir!--What would you please to have gentlemen Sir 7obn. A bottle of madeira-clean pipes, and a paper of mild. Long. You ihall have them in a moment, Sir! [Exit. Sir Jo7n. A finart well looking fellow that. Scrap. Smart enough, I'1 warrant him!--how the coxcomb's hair is plaistered with flour, which, I suppose, we muff pay for !- Ah! no wonder money is scarce and provisions dear, when such a fellow as this waftes, on his empty noddle, what would make a two-penny cake. Sir John. At it again! -the fame dull theme over- again!-Oons, so much of it, is worse than a metho- difl sermon an hour long, or a scolding wife when a man has got the head-ach.-Take a glass of Lethe, to the forgetfulness of care, old cent per cent, and live for this evening at least. Scrap. Lethe !-pray how much is that a bottle ? Sir obrn. A bottle !-ha! ha! ha!-ftep into the other world and you may have tgfihead's for nothing. -But here comes my Lethe. Enter Enter Longcork. Sirt obn. An honest soldier's bottle, faith!--Is it the right fort friend ? Long. Good as ever was tipped.-Neat as imported, Sir. -Vintage sixty two, five years in calk and two in bottles. 3ir John. It has the right smack.- And how long have you lived here? Long. Only two days, Sir.-Monf. Fricassee, a ce- lebrated French cook-the best hand at a turtle in Europe-and myself, came down from London in a post chaise and four last Saturday to affill at this here Jibilee. Sir John. Jubilee! what's that? Long. Good eating and drinking to the memory ofShakefpeare, I believe. Scrap. Shakespeare! what was he? the firfi wool- comber! Long. Woolcomber! what do not you know Shakespeare, Sir? Sir Johb. No !-how the devil /hould we-he .never lived in our neighbourhood, Long. Nor the sign of him in Covent-Garden, where I have the honour to reside ? Scrap. No truly. Long. What a couple of rum prigs! -I ihall laugh in their faces.-[Afide.] You muff know, gentle- men, this Shakespeare was a writer of plays. Scrap. I hate plays, Sir John. Now I like them !--There's Whitting- ton and his. cat,-Captain Bateman.-Punch in the suds, and two or three more make me laugh by the hour;-andfo because this Shakespeare wrote such Thinigs,- the corporation meet to get drunk forjoy.- Jolly dogs, I warrant them! Long. Long. Corporation! - what, Sir, do you think- a dozen French cooks, and fifty of the smartest wai- ters London can produce, would come to accommo- date a pitiful country corporation! -No, no, gentle- men, all the world will be here! Sir yvb. The Devil it will! Long. True, upon my honour. - I'll engage yto might fire cannon from the Royal Exchange to St. James's to mnorrow, without killing any thing but hackney-coachmen or apple-women:-London will be quite empty-entirely populated! - Scrap. You lie-you lie, scape grace; Change-Al- ley won't be empty; a that's the bet part of Lon- don!-A venr fine thing indeed, if East Indiaetock ; South Sea; three per cents con.folsand lottery tickets, were left for Jubilee, which, as I have heard, is a rank piece of popery, Sir John. Sir rvbn. Poperyv adfo if that'sthe cae it's timefor metolookabout!-I'll call a Bench upon it-I'l--but I am not of the peace for this county; however, at our quarter sessions I can move for a petition against such things. Long Lack-a-day, gentlemen, you need not be so angry -Do you think if there was any religion in the matter, so many persons of fafiron andquality would be concerned .-'ih it? STr 70:. \Well said, boy! I think there's no great danger Long. Quite innocent and polite, I assure you, Sir; if you want a description, I can sing you a new song just made upon the occafic.. Sir Yoin. With all my heart, honefty.-Here wet the way first. Drinks. SONG. S 0 N G. 'Tis Shakespeare invites - to his Jubilee hatfe, All you who profess either spirit or taste, Young and old come away, Be frolic be gay, And let your old bard with due honour be grac'd. Lo the call is obey'd - fee! fee, they approach, From nimble tim whisky, to the lumb'ring old coach. Full bent one and all On the Jubilee ball, Which even Diogenes could not reproach. Miss Tripfy expe&cing that Stratford will prove A delicate cegion of pleasure and love; Puts on her best face, Adorn'd with each grace, As ready to bill, and to coo as a dove. To the market, old dowagers also lepair, With borrowed complexions, teeth, eye-brows,and hair; Each wooes with her purse, For better for worse, The female that's wealthy must surely be fair. Kept mistresses too, and galant modih wives, Whom I join as devoted to similar lives; Set out on the jaunt, To ogle and flaunt, Who, who can resist it when dear fashion drives ? Smart beaux, whom iern cynics call rational apes, Haste hither to Ihew their fine cloaths and fine Osapes, They know Shakespeare's name, And have heard of his fame, Though his merit heir fallow conception ecapes. Some Some authors, some critics, some ators advance, Gay fidlers of Rome, and trim barbers of France;. Lords, ladies, and squires Confess strong desires, Tojoin the gay round of our Jubilee dance, Would any one miss then, this great Jubilee, Wherefo much you may hear and so much you may fee, Since in approbation The wife corporation Will give each a flip of the mulberry tree. Scrapeal!. A mighty hopeful description, I must con- fess. Sir. Jobn. Ay, ay, the song's wellenough; but there's a blind fiddler that plays at my house who sings three times as loud; he rattles away oldRoger, the hunting of the Fox, Bumper fquireJones, and Roast Beef, till he makes my great hall ring again.- Body o'me it would do any body good to hear him. Scrapeall. Ah, fir John, there's nothing better than old fongs-but old gold. Sir hobn. Well friend you must order us a couple of beds with well aired sheets and we'll think of some. what for supper presently. Longcork. Supper you may have gentlemen, from five ihillings to five guineas, but as to a bed in this house you could not have one for any fum. Sir Jobn. Not a bed !- how so, fellow? Long. Lord fir, they have been all bespoke these fix- weeks; would you believe it; lord Blazingftar has engaged the roost of one of our chambermaids four story high, and lady Betty Soylainet is obliged to con- tent herself with an ostler's apartment over the stables. Sir John. Very pretty accommodationtruly !-look ye, sirrah, beds we rimat and will have. Scrap. Scrape. Ay or we'll flop them out of the bill. Long. Must and will have! - So you may gentlemen if you can get them.- Let me fee- I would oblige you ifI could - there is an alderman of the town who has one bed disengaged, and I believe you may have it three nights for five guineas. Scrape. Five guineas, coxcomb !-I had rather pass three nights in purgatory; what do you think we coin or find our money, Scapegrace? Jubilee, quotha! give it the right name, the High Season at Bath, where the Extravagants eat silver Sir John. Hold! theyfhan't rob us, old Truepenny- we'll prime our noddles and when they can hold up no longer e'en take a nap in our chairs; so there's bite the biter.- Thedevil's in it if Yorklhire and Change-alley can't be a match for Stratford upon Avon at any time. S crapeall. Why that is true, yet I wifi we has gone the other road, and miffed this confounded Ju- bilee. - Egad there is an excellent thought come into my head, cousin; I'll go inquire if any body deals in Lottery Tickets, and if I meet with a chap, it 1hall go hard if I do not tickle his soft fide out of as much as will pay our thievith expences. Sir. John.Well faidold Two-and-go-three, in themean time I will remove to the garden for air, here Jack, Tom, Jonathan, what is your name? carry the remains of that bottle, into an atbour, or summer house and I will follow you. Long. This way, this way, Sir; -what a couple of bears they are.! [Aidc. ; Sir Yohn. Success, old Main-chance. Scrap. Ah somebody had need mind themain chance; or else your Jubilee folks, would soon turn the world topsy turvy. [Exeunt. Einler, En'er Lord Spangle and Toupee. L. Spang. So at length we have gained, this occa- fioaal feat of mimic elegance. - How long have we been coming the laR fifty miles? Toupee. Exatly four hours, ten minutes and thirty- fire seconds by my flop wach, my lord. L. Sangle. Prettytolerable driving-though the ml ianes and econds were quite unnecessary.- Don't you hink I may lay the odds upon doing it under three and a half? Tsoee. Mofi certainly, my lord, with relays of your ag tailed bays, the full tailed blacks, and the fwitced rostns. L. Spangle. Mum then - fay no more - now mutL lay myself out for one of Moore's flying Phaetons without horses, and then brother knowing ones have at ye. - Ring the bell Toupee; order my baggage to the lodgings and afterwards attend me here. [Exit Toupee. Ester Longcork. Long. Did you call, Sir! -oh, my lord-- I beg your lordship ten thousand pardons. L. Spangle. Lord! prithee fellow haft thou ever seen me before? or doftthou read nobility in my face ? Long. Ah my lord many a half crown h-te I touched of your money. L. Spangli. Ay! my glass to recognize this old ac- quaintance. - What Longcork from the Piazzas? Long. The very fame and entirely at your lordthip's service. L. Spangle. Thou haft been serviceable in the aflirs of lioe, and may'st be so again. - Any of the game expected here Losg. ,Long. Great plenty my lord, ofprafifed ladies for country gentlemen; and I make no doubt but there will be rare poaching for experienced sportsmen among unfiufh'd game; we hiipped off from Bow-itreet and the garden three waggon loads last week; - Forty- five, as we call Bet Tawdry, is to pass here for a baronet's daughter Sail Bottlenose for a young cler- gyman's widow, Suky Trapes for a country girl, and Peggy N imwell,.all your lotdihip's acquaintances- for an Eaft-I ndia captain's lady. - L. Spangle. Excelleht !--the game hunted down by us gallants of faliioi do well enough for mistresses, or even wives, for fellows in this part of the world, but have you fixed your eye on nothing fresh yet Longcorkr no soft, blooming, languifliing fair, on whom a few soft words a few promises with a silk gown or tvo could prevail; point out such a one, and ten gold- finches in one cage shall chirp a most engaging piece of music to reward thee. Long. I am bound to you, my lord, and ihall have a lharp look out. L. Spanlgr. But snug let it be; for the impertinent hungry news writers do so search out and baffinado the modifi failings of nobility; that a peer can not debauch his neighbour's wife or daughter with any safety; and hypocrisy is become almost as essential to us as to a Moorfields preacher, Long.l nfolentvillailns their pens fhouldbecrammed down their throats: I shall be as secret as a free-ma- 'son my lord- not even a sign flall blab. L. Spangli. Enough: nature designed th'r for a fuc- cefsful miniftcr of intrigues and in due time I'll re- comme.d thee to a siing place in the customs. - Men .Of merit ihould be rewarded. C Lcng. Lsong. I thank your lordship; but I would not give up my present perquisites to be any thing under a comptroller? besides I can only just scrawl my name, L. Spangle. That's hard! - then thou art fit for nothing but a commissioner. - Hey day, either my glass deceives me, or that spirited fair-one, lady Span- ker, approaches: -'tis ihe faith. Enter Lady Spanker. What no people of fashion yet! - no real Jubilee! - oh, mylordSpangle, your presence has relieved me from the deplorable apprehensions that I was the only per- son of condition arrived. L. Spangle. Your ladylhip's moif obedient: Strat- ford has on Shakespeare's account been always admit- ted the region of poetry; bur, enlightened by lady Spanker's pretence, it Ihines forth the hemisphere of beauty. L. Spanker. Politely, flattering, I confess, my lord; but perhaps at present I am fluihed with a little ac- cidental beauty; for about half an hour since, as I was driving my phaeton and four, at the rate of four- teen miles an hour; an odious chimney sweeper's fa- vage ass, set up his horrid bray, started my cream co- lours, turned them out of the road, and tipped me head-foremost into a ditch. L. Spa$g. Alarming chance! bcth the two legged and the four legged ass should have been sacrificed to, your ladfhiip's perilous situation: I am determined to bring in an as next sessions to prevent any such ani- mals from appearing by day-light. L. Spank. Why indeed my lord it is a pity that creatures who have no adequate idea of quality, liould exit at all.- I will request my uncle, fir Toby HubLi, e Hubblebubble, to support your patriotic motion.- Has your lordship any thing at Newmarket for the next ire.ting. L. Spang. Nothing, madam--my roan by Regulus broke down in a trial sweat last week and muff for- feit two hundred-my grey filly has put out a spavin and my bay by Sampson has flipped a shoulder. L. Spank. Qjite unfortunate; I am matched against captain Clumsy a three mile heat which I expedt to win hollow; for you know he rides like a woolpack. L. Spang. True madam-ha! ha! ha! L. Spank. I have a match depending also with lord Scapegrace for five hundred a fide on leaping five barred gates--bets run pretty even. L. Spang. I will back your ladyship in both- fix to four for any fum. L. Spank. That is encouragement however-and I have been in close training these fix weeks-do not you think my lord the Sampsons have ihewn more bottom than Foot of late?-little Gimcrack he is the star of the turf, I would freely give two thousand for him; then as a groom theres Singleton beats the globe; I hope when he dies, for he must fall as well as Alex- ander, Marlborough, and other great men; I hope there will be a Jubilee of commemoration appoint- ed for him at Newmarket. - I am sure he deserves it much better than the old musty scribbler Shakespeare; so fine a finger, so steady a hand, so firm a feat; in fiort he rides so well that if the fellow had but genteel blood in his veins I think no lady could refute him for a husband. L. Spang. Your ladyship's approbation does his merit singular honour and the preference given against shakespeare is most happily Judicious; no critic of C 2 aly any delicacy, can bear the fellow's hum drum pieces now. L. Spank. Quite intolerable.--Though if some of them were turned into singing affairs they might be endured well enough, the opera of Hamlet; the opera of Othello; the opera of Richard; inflhort, the opera of every thing, to banish that antiquated barbarous word Tragedy.--But my Lord, have you fixed upon. your character for the masquerade yet. L. Spang. Not yet, madam; if your Ladyihip, as in real life, will pernbnate Venus; I must consequently attempt the characer of Adonis. L. Spank. Infinitely polite! but my choice rather bends to the Queen of the Amazons. L. Spang. Then madam you will metamorphose me into Alexander, who was her admirer. L. Spank. Well, fincc I find there is no efeape fcm your excessive gallantry it ihall be fo-that valuable creature Mr. Pafquin the habit-man, from Taviftock, Street is to be here with at infinite variety; if it is agree- able to your lordihip we will have a view. L. ^parng. It is happiness to attend Lady Spanker anv where. L. Spank. Then we will ftep first to the stable; give some directions about my cream colours and pro- ceed immediately. [Exeunt. Enter Emmeline and Jackonet. Em!me, Well I vow, Jackonet, this flying frdm place to place is pure. What would my old papa fay now if he knew that I was come to the Jubilee ? .jack. Say! why the fame that'ail fich old cuffs as he would fay upon the fame occalion; that you was a wild mad-headed girl, that you was a flaunting baggage, baggage, that you did not know the pains required to get money, nor the value of it when got; that your head runs upon whirligigs and that you think of no. thing but plays, assemblies fine cloaths and fine sweet- hearts. Emmel. Ha! ha! ha! well I vow you-take him off to a hair; if it was not formyauntFiddlee-dedee,Ifiould have known no circumstance of polite life I Ihould have been fit for nothing but mending .sockings and making pies, if it was not for her I ihould not have you towait on me, Jackonet.-He would have brought me upjuft such an unfaihionable creature as himself; but natpre has given me spirit, and my aunt has gi- ven me taste; so I am resolved not to be Ihut up in the horrid smoke of Warling street any longer. Jack. You are perfectly in the right of it, madam; get yourself transplanted to Grosvenor, Berkley, or Cavendilh Square as soon as possible; set up a vis-a- vis bespeak an elegant sedan of four hundred guin- eas price; hire two of the handsomest chairmen, and fix of the genteelest footmen than can be found; with every other a rticle of a grand household, keep vifi. ting days, routs, &c. and Ihine forth an ornament of the gay world, Emmel. Ravilhing pi&ure !-What an unreasonable mortal is this Papa of mine to think I would give up such a round of delights; for that hateful creature Om- nium, the change broker, and his country house at Islington. Did I ever sing you a song I made upon be, ing plagued to have him, Jackonet? Jack. Not that I recollet, madanm ,Emmel. Then you ihall have it, so N a. S O N G. How cruel, Papa, to insist upon that, Which nature must always deny, How can you refill a denial so flat ? Before you Ihall force me I'll die. Tis base in the ronge, to proclaim a fair sow: When fill'd with abhorrence the heart cries out no. Love only iall ever dispose of my hand, Love only shall make me a wife; No parent has jutly a right to command. To command away comfort, for life, My Tongue then flall never proclaim a fair mow When filled with abhorrence, my heart cries out no. 7ack. A good resolution and well expressed, ma- dam; I recollect a short ballad much to the fame, purpose; I'll endeavour to give it you as well as I can, Emdel. I long to hear it of all things. S O N G, 7eckonet. The sub ject of marriage So eft meets miscarriage, 'Tis tickldih for maidens to try; Gallants in this matter So oft lie and flatter,. Ve scarce can tell how to comply. Since fseking a blessing we oft meet a curse, When blulhing, we answer, for better for wbrfe. - Should parznts presuming, Like tyrants afTuming, Unkindly forbid a free choice: The girl who has spirit Will freedom inherit, By li''ning to nature's kind voice, If I am to be wretched I'll chufe my own curse, And the man of my heart take, for better fcr worse. Emmnel. Admirable! Jackonet, you flall be first lady of my bed-chamber, and fliall have my wedding cloaths.-Sir Charles promired to meet me here this evening, and, when the enchanting Jubilee is over, wc shall fly for Scotland immediately. Jack. A charming convenient country that, for matrimonial affairs, madam, -heigh ho !-I wiih I was taking a trip there with one I know, upon the fame occafion.-The invitation which carried your father into York/hire at this critical time was very fortunate. Emmel. The luckiest thing in the world, the very name of a Jubilee would have frightened him out of hisenfes! -But, Jackonet-what would you have me get'f6r the masquerade? Yack. Lard, madam! there is such a variety, that it is almost impossible to advise. When I lived with lady Bab. Rattle, ihe employed fix hours a day for three months, and could scarce fix upon any thing at laft;--one day she would be a Turk; the next a Christian; the third a Chinese; the fourth a Dutch woman; next a HeatheniGoddefs; then a Savoyard; soon after a gipsy, a witch, and twenty others:-at lar flie thought of transforming herself into a moving bee-hive, intimating that beauty is pregnant with the stings of love-but, alas! upon entering the ball- room, lhe saw two other bee-hives dancing, a cotilion with the fun, the moon, a bear, an ostrich, Hamfetf ghost, and an animated, butter-cafl.-This had such an effect upon her, that she retired immediately, and almost fretted herself into a consumption. Enmmsel. Poor lady! such terrible shocks must hurt any conflitution; I have cause enough myself; but a good good heart and pleasing hopes bear me up. -I would haveadrefs odd and whimfical--I'll make a bargain with you, Jackonet; you shall chufe for me and I'll chute for you. Jack. As you please, madam !-Bless me, yonder's one of Sir Charles's men come post haste into the yard -his master mult be near at hand! Enamel. Oh dear! I am so tumbled and toffed with the journey-my head is in such terrible disorder, -I can't fee Sir Charles in this pickle, positively. Jack. If you please, madam, I'll call the chamber- maid to shew a private room and put you to rights: in a quarter of an hour you /hall look so killingly, that the baronet's impatience for Scotland Hall make him think the Jubilee seven years long. Emme!. Come then, dear Jackonet-do make me look very killingly, and every silk sack and petticoat I have at present, fiall be your's when we. return from Scotland. [Exeunt. E.,D OF THE FIRST ACT. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE THE FIRST. Sir JOHN HEARTY and SCRAPEALL; Sir JOHN. W H A T ! no lottery gudgeons in this town ? SCRAPEALL. No, no, Sir John; I e ould pick up nothing but a premium of ten shillings for number forty-five--~ they are all jubilee gudgeons here.-When I asked a bookselling fellow, who dabbles a little that way, whether he wanted any tickets-he answered-* Shakespeare is to be crowned to-morrow; and his wife, before I could open my mouth again, said, there was to be a masquerade to-morrow~ which eve- ry-body would be at.-For my part, I think they are all Shakefpeare-mad, and I wish we were fairly out of the town. Sir JOHN. Body o'me, why so ? Can't people be merry and wife ?-For my own part, I should like to flay and fee the sun-ay and we will, old True-penny.-When it is over, I'll take you to such gardens, groves, and purling streams in Yorkffire, as ihall make you young again. D SCRAPE- SCRAPEALL. With your leave, Sir John, I had rather go back to London.-Pray where can you find a garden of equal value to that of Covent Garden?-Where can you match the golden grove of Lombard street ?- WVhere meet more delightful retreats than the arbours of the Alley ?-Where more comfortable walks than those of the Exchange, or a stream equal to the Thames between Bridge and Deptford ? Besides, I am very uneasy about my girl, she's at the tickllih age of nineteen, has twenty thousand pounds at her own disposal, when of age, besides the inheritance of all my estate. Sir JOH N. What, then, friend, touch and take, ten to one, do all you can, she'll please herself at last, and throw herself away upon some poverty-ftruck lord, who, being out at'the elbows, will marry her money to mend bad circumstances; then keep a mistress to please his inclinations. SCRAPEALL. I am no friend to popery, yet I wish we had nunneries amongst us to lock up head-strong young hufies.-Ah, why had not I a son ? by this time he might have been thoroughly educated in those schools of useful knowledge, Lloyd's and Jonathan's-I might have lived to fee him double nmy fortune. Sir JOHN. Why, then, old boy, since you can't be sure who will get it, or how it may go, take my advice and regale regale yourself with a little of it before you are fiipped off for the other world.--Now I am here, I'm resolved to fee what fort of an affair this jubilee is-though I suppose it won't be half so good as a country feast or a fox chace. SCRAPEALL. No, nor half so fine as my Lord Mayor's show, which may be seen for nothinginto the bargain. Sir JOHN. Nothing! prithee don't grumble so in the giz- zard-it is my humour to fee what all this bustle's about; and if you'll promise to throw off your melan- choly face, body o'me, I'll bring you off fcot free- I'll pay for both; I have three hundred pounds a quarter, and don't wish to save a flliling of it. SCRAPEALL. As you please, Sir John.-What a prodigal old fool it is. (.fide.) Sir JOHN. Betides, man, I never saw a coronation in my life; and, for aught I know, the crowning of king Shakespeare may be as pretty a piece of diversion as the crowning of any other king-fo brush up your phiz, and we'll sally forth to fee what's stirring. SCRAPEALL. I follow, Sir John-I wifl I knew how East- India fRock was done to-day ; and what news there is from the Nabobs. (Exe!nt.) lz2 SCENE S C E N E II. A Masquerade Skop, P A S QT I N a;d S L E E K E M. P A S QU I N. Well, if every freedom presented in a mulberry- box was to produce a masquerade, I could wish all the authors, asCors, and critics in England were made burgefiSs of Stratford-I shall love the name of Shakespeare as long as I live. What a delightful bustle does this jubilee make! so riany country 'squires and their ladies, who know nothing of the matter, apply for dresses, that we can fleece them gen:eeily-but what of that ? they, in return, will rack their tenants; and the tenants consequently raise provisions; so that, upon the whole, no-body is aS&ced but the low mechanical vulgar, whom nature has formed as mere necessary utensils for the sport and profit of us in polite spheres of life. SLEEKEM. Why, Sir, this promises fair to beat the royal masquerade. P A S QU I N. M1IoR certainly--ve had too many of the know- ing ones there-here we fiall have well-fledged tame pigeons to pluck in plenty.-Let nie hear how arti, cOs stand in the mremorandum-book for to day. SLEEKEM. TouchiLcne's dress for Alderman Numflull. PAS, PASQUIN. Never were the cap and bells more happily adapt- ed ; though in chufing the dress, his worship obferv- ed, that as the world thought him a wife man, he was for once resolved to look and play the foQl- which in reality he does every day of his life. SLEEKEM. For Mr. Alderman-- PASQUIN. Pshaw, pihaw, skip all the corporation-I furnish them and their wives for nothing, which ia a little hard; but as they have countenanced this polite sheep ihearing, I must make other people pay for them, and the unconscionable long credit expeted by most of my quality customers. SLEEKEM. Lady Giggle the habit of a vestal. P A S QUIN. A vestal! ha! ha ! ha ! ha !-most admirable, as Numskull's outside will describe exactly what he is-- her ladyship's garment will show what she absolutely is not.-Go on. SLEEKEM. The vest, drawers and axe of an execution for Mr, Whim-the mask to be truly dismal. PAS QUIN. How ! what! an executioner and an axe I-who the devil ever heard of such a character in a masque- rade ?-You might as well introduce a rope at St. Giles's. Giles's.-Scratch it out immediately-why, it would not only frighten all the ladies, but half the noble- men present out of their fenfes.-Out with it, I'll lend no ;nemento nCri, unless it be Hamlet's ghost. SLEEKEM, Nancy Pickup, from the Garden-a nun's dress. PASQUIN. Very good, the reverse of reality again-a wolf in lamb's cloathing.-This article goes on tick, but Nancy's a girl of honour, and will pay well if the bait takes. SLEEKEM. Mr. Eitherfide, a Nabob's dress. PAS QU IN. What, Dick Eitherfide, the Swiss news-paper fcribbier-the composer of ghosts, bloody murders, and b -barous ballads, the fellow that dives for a din- ner four days a week, and fasts the other three- that would kill or marry any-body with his pen for fix-pence-he a Nabob ! SLEEKEM. Sir, he fays he has written fix letters, dated Avon, to the Public Advertiser ; fix copies of verses, four epigrams, and twenty puff paragraphs to raise pub- lic curiosity; so he claims it gratis as a right, and fays, if you don't comply, he'll anatomize you; but if you do, he promises to recommend and promote masquerades as much as poflible. P A S- PASQUIN. Well, let the poor rascal have his humour this once,-What's next ? - SLEEKEM. Sir John Afiaticus, the apparatus of a blind fid- dler. PASQUIN. Heysday !-Hey-day ! why this is masquerading with a witness. Nabob turned beggar, and a beggar turned Nabob.-Go on. SLEEKEM. Mrs. Lapell, a sultana. PASQUIN. Oh the advertising taylor's wife-let her be charg- ed double price, because the scoundrel her husban'd works so low as fifteen per cent. profit; the ne- oh, I hear some cuftomers-mind, Sleekem, your best bow, a smooth tongue and a right smirking Tavi- ftock-ftreet countenance. Enter Mrs. DUMPLIN and TOBY. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Are you the person who furnilhes masquerade affairs ? PAS QU IN. Yes, Madam; and tho' I fay it, can produce the richest variety in England : I have habits from one guinea to ten for the night, with Venetian and cari- catura masks in abundance. *My shop, in thejocu- lar lar file, Madam, may be called a mill to grind old people young.-Pleafe to look over my book of si- gures, Madam-you'll find them a most noble collec- tion from Cleopatra to Mother Shipton; from Pe- kin in China, to John a Groat's house in Scotland. You have every thing remarkable in that volume- look it over, Madam, and, in the mean time, I'll consult the young gentleman's taste, that we may accomodate him agreeably. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Very well, friend-the boy may please himself,.. he has a good tafte-and is as sharp as a needle? TOBY. Ay, ay, moother, sharp enough for matter o'that-i Toby Dumplin knows which fide his bread's butter4 ed on, tho'f he has never getten to London yet. PAS QUIN. That's a pity indeed, young gentleman' though from your politeness and fashionable appearance I should not have fufpe&ed so much. TO B Y. Ife very mickle obliged to your good-natures; To be- feere all voaks in our town fay as how I be a pratty lad, and almost as woife as parson, potecary, or exciseman. PASQUIN. No doubt of it, Sir; but as time will rather press, let us to business: What would you choose to appear in ? TO BY. Nay, I know not. PAS- PASQUIN. Suppose then as a Turk? TOBY. Then I mun have a turbut on my head and whiskers on my face. Mrs. DUMPLIN. What did you fay, a Turk ?-No, no, you ihan't make an infidel of my child neither-any thing else he pleases. TO B Y. Do, moother, let me have wifkers; I {hall look so pure and so comical.-He! he! he! AMrs. DUMPLIN. It must not be.-Any thing else, I fay. PASQUIN. What think you of a cardinal's dress then, to make him a very good Christian ? Mrs. D U MPLIN. By no means; I hate the Pope as much as I do Mahomet. Any thing else the boy likes. PAS QU IN. As you seem to like the comic strain, suppose you personate a Dutchman, with a short pipe in your mouth ? TOBY. Whoy, well enough; but not so well as wifkers though. Mrs. DUMPLIN. A Dutchman! Oh, frightful! spoil the boy's fine lhape with filthy great breeches ! make him all bot- tom and no top !-No, no; any thing else. E TOBY. TO BY. Why, moother, I thinks as how this any thihg cile, will come to nothing at last. PAS Q UIN. Well said, young gentleman ; I think so too. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Well, to cut the matter short, I'll choose for him. Let me fee, as my dear Mr. Dumplin is not above two months dead, I would pay some refpe& to his memory in my appearance.--an you make me re- present Niobe, Sir? PASQ UIN. Exacly, Madam; I have the finef weeping mail in the world. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Tolerable features, I hope. PAS QU IN. Exquisitely delicate; a most attraEtive picture of beauty in diflrefs. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Enough: though my heart is buried with my hutand, one would not appear deformed, you: know. TOBY. Moother! nioother! here's a feace now for all the world like auld Cicely's, our black-pooding wisei: -and here's one as like the vicar as two pease; what a rare handle it has! For my part, I think they ha' getten half our town here. Enter Enter Captain B LARN EY. Madam, your most obedient-Sir, I'm yours also. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Upon my word, a handsome portly figure! (Aside. Captain BLARNEY. You muff know, I come by long sea, over land. PASQU I N. I hope you have had a pleasant journey. [Exeunt Toby and Sleekem. Captain BLARNEY. Well enough for that, only I was like to be ship. wrecked fix miles off. PAS QU I N. Six miles off! Why, we have not the sea within many miles of this place, Sir. Captain BLARNEY. Sea! by my foul it was the turnpike-road.-4'J1 tell you about it, honeys.-As my horse was trotting along, in a fine easy walk, a spalpeen thief catches hold of the bridle, and fays, Your money, or your life!-Ara, nabacklefh, fays I, why would you d- pose upon a ifranger ? I am going to the jubilee, and this is not so civil now. Oh, devil burn you, fays he, Terence, (it is my name sure enough) if you go to the jubilee, you'll be robb'd there, so you may as well be robbed here; and if you don't, I'll shoot you through the head. E 2 a^s. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Oh dear, what a terrible fellow ! You was in great danger, Sir. Captain BLARNEY. Ara, nothing at all when a body's us'd to it !-- And so, as I was after telling you, cush la ma cree, when I would not give my fplenters to the Raparee, he fired his pistol itrait at me of one fide: though as luck would have it, it did not go off neither; so I ups with little sweet lips, fhillela, that never mifs'd fire in its life, and giving him a stouter on the nog- gin, I laid him as flat as a flounder, agra. P A S QU I N. Bravely done, upon my word, Sir. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Upon my word, Sir, it is very happy he did not get up again and murder you. Captain B L A R N Y. Oh, by my foul, he's safe enough for that; he's as dead as Henry the Eighth. Why, he told me himself that he was dead; and so I said, if he did not like it, he might carry himself to a surgeon, and get his head heel-tapp'd. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Very witty and clever, I vow. Captain BLARNEY. I am glad you like it-Glogha too'fneefhen- Mufha, upon my foul, Madam, you're a very engage- ing person, and Captain Terence Blarney (meaning myself) would be very glad of a better acquaintance with you. .Mrs. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Your are very polite, Sir; but the loss of a good husband so lately, makes me indifferent to all the world. Captain BLARNEY, Upon my foul now, if you have had one good husband, it is a very good reason you should get an- other. My poor Sheela was buried at Monaghan last Friday se'nnight was five weeks, so I came to this Jubilee to look out for another; and, if your lady- ship's not engaged, what's the reason but we may join giblets without any balderdash pribble, prabble ? PASQUIN. Well said, Captain; a right widow's man. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Lard, Sir, you overpower me;-fo fudden,-fo fiort an acquaintance. Captain BLARNE Y. - Ara,what magnifies that; must not every acquaint- ance be short before it is long?-I'm a gentleman, every inch of me; I have a pretty little estate, after the man that owns it is dead: and you fee I'm as well timbered about the legs and face, as one can meet in a long summer's day. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Your person is unexceptionable, Sir; and your manner very agreeable; but I must not think of marriage I must not, indeed, Sir. Captain Captain BLARNEY. By my foul, Gra ma cree, you may go further and fare worse. Enter TOBY, dreaed and rnfqued as a monkey, Jkip- ping abo!ut. Mrs. DUMPLIN. Oh, dear, Sir, defend me from that ugly crea- ture ! (Runs into Blaney's arms.) Captain BLARNEY; By my foul, and that I will, as long as there's a rag of fl:illeta together. T O BY squeaking. Do you know me? Mrs. DUMPLIN. Bless us! the thing speaks! TOBY. Do you know me, Captain ? Captain BLARNEY. Captain, ara; by what the devil relationship are we acquainted ? TO B Y. I knows you, but you don't know me. Captain BLARNEY. Keep off your fore foots; or, devil burn me, but I'll crack your noggin for you. PA S QUIN. Ha! ha! ha!-Admirably performed, yotmg gen- tleman ! There's a dress ! there's a mask ! as natu- ral as any Eaft-India jacko that ever came over, TOBY. TO B Y. Nay, now you have spoiled the masquerading fro- lic; that young man told me what to fay.-Is'n't it pure and comical, moother? Mrs. DUMPLIN. What, my graceless turned into a monkey! Would you make me mother of a baboon !-I'11 teach you, sirrah! Captain BLARNEY. Och, never heed it, it's only a trick of youthh he'll forget it when he grows old. Mrs. DUMPLIN. A trick of youth! Ill trick him: take this~ sirrah! and this! and this! (Beats him.) TOBY. Fine masquerading this, Ife sure. (Runs out.) Mrs. DUMPLIN. Oh dear, this mad-headed boy will run out of doors, and have all the dogs in the street after his monkey's tail. (Going off, returns.) Oh,.blefs me, I'm so flutered, that I forgot to tell you, Sir, I lodge at the White Hart, where I lhall be glad to fee you at breakfarf to-morrow morning. Captain BLARNEY. Och, and that I will, my jewel; and put a clumfey piece of toast under my girdle. But would not you let me touch your fair lips for good fellow- ship Och, 'pon my foul they're ffeet as the honey of by-bla. a2z~~ Ai~~Mrs. Mirs. DUMIPLIN. You flatter me.-I shall expe& you, Sir. [Exit. Captain BL A R N EY. Never fear, little Terence; don't you think, Mr. Maicarade, the lady's in love with my parson ? PASQUIN. It looks very like it; but confidering your coun- try and address, it is not at all surprising, Sir. Captain BLARNEY. Why, as you fay it's very nat'ral for us Hiber- nians. A word in your ear: if {he has the mopus's, I'll have her as snug as a bug in a rug. You could not take part of a bottle, could you ? P A S QUIN. Bfinefs won't permit. Captain BLARNEY. Mufha, you should be as welcome as fiowers in May; you must get me some dress, either a cardi- nal, or a miller, or a fweep-chimney, or any thing you like best yourself. P A S QJJ I N. Very well, Sir, I shall endeavour to.pleafe you. Captain BLARNEY, Sir, your most obedient. (Going backwards,joftles Lard Spangle entering.) I beg your pardon, young man; but if my ears had not seen you before you was in fight, 'pon my foul I should have walked on top of you. [Exit. Lord Lord SPANGLE. What an over-grown Irish bear ! Sure the crea- ture has not been to hire a disguise, Mr. Pafquin ! Nature has made his whole figure a mask of huma- nity. P A S QU I N. Your Lordship's wit, like the fun, will break out. He has ordered me to chufe for him. Lord SPANGLE. Then pray provide a bull's hide, horns and all, that the monster may have charateriftic cloathing- Ha! ha! ha! PA S QUIN. Brilliant to the last degree; quite the diamond cut-Ha! ha! ha! Enter Lady S PANKER. Lady SPANKER. My Lord, I beg ten thouland pardons, but I have been quite fluflered since you left me ; for that eter- nal talker, lady Mary Tattle, fast held me so long by the ears, that I loit all patience ; then, tripping one foot as I came up stairs, an officious Irilhman laid hold of this arm, and grasped it in such a man- ner with his monstrous paw, that I don't know whether it will recover strength time enough to ride my O&ober match at Newmarket. Lord SPANGLE. Provoking as well as painful. F Lady Lady SPANKER. Mr. Pafquin, your servant; is this affair like to be tolerably brilliant ? PAS QU I N. Entirely to your Ladyship's taste, I believe. Lad, SPANKER. VWell, positively we of the turf must eRfablifh a Newmarket Jubike: I'll mention it to the' Duchess of FoxchFe, at our next meeting. P A S QU I N. A design worthy such spirited ladies. Lord SPANGLE. And I'll mention it in the Jockey-Club. Lady SPANK.ER. Then, my Lord, I'll lay fix to four, the thing tales ; we shall carry it quite hollow, and double difsince Disappointment. E;.:-r fcw;!::, deliveris two letters. Lcdy SPANKER. Elack!' b!ack! what melancholy tales do these bring ?-Your Lordship's excufe-Umr-um-your fifier, lady Charlotte, died this afternoon.-Poor Charlotte ! she was a good-natured girl, but wanted spirit:- he fell in love with a young fellow of in- ferior station, and being crossed, pined herself into a consumption, which carried her off. Well, that's better than diFgracing'te family. (Reads again) Your ladyihip's bay hunter, Buck, was seized with J U B I L E E. with the staggers, and died in five minutes.-Un- fortunate chance! insupportable loss !-so fine a creature !-betides, there will be two hundred and fifty forfeit on my play or pay Bargate Match; I can never endure it.-Miferable woman ! Lord SPANGLE. Madam, I allow the stroke to be very affecing; but, as some alleviation, permit me to present you with my roan colt, Stag; as the phrase ,is, he can snuff the moon, and will take the knowing- ones in deeply, Lady SPANKER. Your Lordihip is the very essence of consolation: I'll have Stag to my leaping-bar, and throw him into training next week.-Now, if you please to divert my mind from poor Buck, we'll go into the inner warehoufe-room, and fix upon our masquerade habi- liments.-Come, Mr. Pafquin. P A S QU I N, I attend your Ladyship. [Exeunt. Enter Sir JOHN, and SCRAPEALL.. Sir JOH N. So, after hard limping of your fide, cuz, we have reached the place at last; and now we'll fee what they have got. SCRAPEALL. Ay, ay, foolery enough, I warrant. SS 2 Sir Sir JOHN Hey-day! ('aking up a cap) pray what's this young man ? S L E E K E M. A cuckold's cap, at your service. Sir JOHN. My service! W ill you wear it, fquare-toes ? Nay, you need not fLart so: " Csfar and Pompey," as the old fang fays-What are all there ? S L E E K E M. 5Masks to cover the faces, and mark charaoters. SCRAPEALL. Characters! I believe you deal in very suspicious clharac&ers. Why these baubles can only be fit for iuch as are, or should be ashamed to show their faces. Sir JOHN. Body o'me, here's one grins like a monkey; and -tere's so many, I don't know how to choose. S L E E K E M. If you please to walk that way, gentlemen, my master will help you to a choice immediately. Sir JOHN. Well said, lad. Come, old Multiplication. SCRAPEALL. iil, f.oc-.; muif fill at this rate. [Exeunt. S L E E K EM. A. rare trade this of ours; it takes in all from :xtty to fiv'etn. Sir Sir CHARLES, EMMELINE, and JACKONET. Sir CHARLES. My dear Emmeline, the cordial pun&uality of this meeting has confirmed me yours for ever. EMMELINE. I assure you, Sir Charles, Jackonet has been an active and ftedfafl friend in your favour. Sir CHARLES. I hope I have not been ungrateful; and if fle has an inclination to follow your example, Madam, I'll endeavour to procure her a good husband. JACKONET. I thank you, Sir; but, according to the old pro- verb, I must please my eyes, though I plague my heart. Sir CHARLES. Then to our bufinefs.-Here, shew your book of dresses, young man. [Retire. Enter Sir J0 H N, and SCRAPEALL. SCRAPEALL. Positively, Sir John, I'll fay no longer. What! fix guineas for two dresses one night? Why it is absolute robbery. EMME- EM MEL I N E. Now, I think, Sir Charles, this infinitely pretty. SCRAPEALL. Bless me, what's this! my Emmy ? EMMILINE. Oh la, papa! what, what shall I do ? SCRAPEALL. Prettv! ay, it is pretty, huffey, to meet you here without my content, without my knowledge, without my Ad, I have loft all patience. And who is this fellow ? I'll make an example of him for running away with an heiress. JACK 0 N E T. Why don't you think fne able and willing enough to run away with herielf, Sir ? SCRAPEALL. Is Tie so, Mrs. Prate-a-pace ! Ay, you're a hope- ful maid of her aunt's providing: I know you well, sauce-box, and I'll turn over a new leaf. But who are you, scape-grace ? Sir CHARLES. I am a gentleman, Sir, and not used to abusive language. To speak of myself may not be so pro- per, but my father, Sir Robert Planwell, was generally generally known and esteemed in the North of England. Sir JOHN. What, are you Bob Planwell's son of Lincoln- shire ? As honest a fellow, cousin Scrapeall, as ever toffed offa tankard ! SCRAPE ALL. But did he know any thing of the Alley ? Sir CHARLES If he did not, I do, Sir; I have employed all my spare cash there five years in the stocks. Why, Sir, I have wrote two letters, dated India, to come over land, by Holland, one of which will raise that stock twenty per cent. and the other fall it thirty. Now, Sir, if you will countenance my pretensions to your daughter, I'll kill Heyder Ally, and make him conquer Madrass, as often as you please to fell out or buy in. SCRAPEALL. Nay, if that's the cafe, you may be a hopeful young fellow: but I hate a title. Howevever, if you can make what you fay appear- Sir CHARLES. If not, Sir, I request no favour. Sir' JOHN. Why, that's honest; and since you have all met together, I'll take care to bring you to a right un- derfand- understanding. I wear a title myself, and I'm no rgue for all that. We'll fee what's to be feeherei and then all for Yorkshire, where we'll be as mier- ry'as grigs. But, d'ye hear, no more :obje&ibkis to tites, for -. ' Titled or plain, still judge upon this plan, That the heart only manifests the.map. * ** F IN I F ': ** . '. , . ... - .... .:: _A.... I~ . 4 dL 5 . . . . . .~~~~