Chapter 12

Enter_ MISS HOYDEN, NURSE, _and_ TOM FASHION. _Fash_. This quick despatch of the chaplain's I take so kindly it shall give him claim to my favour as long as I live, I assure you. _Miss Hoyd_. And to mine too, I promise you. _Nurse_. I most humbly thank your honours; and may your children swarm about you like bees about a honeycomb! _Miss Hoyd_. Ecod, with all my heart--the more the merrier, I say--ha, nurse? _Enter_ LORY. _Lory_. One word with you, for Heaven's sake. [_Taking_ TOM FASHION _hastily aside_.] _Fash_. What the devil's the matter? _Lory_. Sir, your fortune's ruined if you are not married. Yonder's your brother arrived, with two coaches and six horses, twenty footmen, and a coat worth fourscore pounds--so judge what will become of your lady's heart. _Fash_. Is he in the house yet? _Lory_. No, they are capitulating with him at the gate. Sir Tunbelly luckily takes him for an impostor; and I have told him that we have heard of this plot before. _Fash_. That's right.--[_Turning to_ MISS HOYDEN.] My dear, here's a troublesome business my man tells me of, but don't be frightened; we shall be too hard for the rogue. Here's an impudent fellow at the gate (not knowing I was come hither incognito) has taken my name upon him, in hopes to run away with you. _Miss Hoyd_. Oh, the brazen-faced varlet! it's well we are married, or maybe we might never have been so. _Fash. [Aside_.] Egad, like enough.--[_Aloud_.] Pr'ythee, nurse, run to Sir Tunbelly, and stop him from going to the gate before I speak to him. _Nurse_. An't please your honour, my lady and I had better, lock ourselves up till the danger be over. _Fash_. Do so, if you please. _Miss Hoyd_. Not so fast; I won't be locked up any more, now I'm married. _Fash_. Yes, pray, my dear, do, till we have seized this rascal. _Miss Hoyd_. Nay, if you'll pray me, I'll do anything. [_Exit with_ NURSE.] _Fash_. Hark you, sirrah, things are better than you imagine. The wedding's over. _Lory_. The devil it is, sir! [_Capers about_.] _Fash_. Not a word--all's safe--but Sir Tunbelly don't know it, nor must not yet. So I am resolved to brazen the brunt of the business out, and have the pleasure of turning the impostor upon his lordship, which I believe may easily be done. _Enter_ SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Did you ever hear, sir, of so impudent an undertaking? _Sir Tun_. Never, by the mass; but we'll tickle him, I'll warrant you. _Fash_. They tell me, sir, he has a great many people with him, disguised like servants. _Sir Tun_. Ay, ay, rogues enow, but we have mastered them. We only fired a few shot over their heads, and the regiment scoured in an instant.--Here, Tummus, bring in your prisoner. _Fash_. If you please, Sir Tunbelly, it will be best for me not to confront this fellow yet, till you have heard how far his impudence will carry him. _Sir Tun_. Egad, your lordship is an ingenious person. Your lordship, then, will please to step aside. _Lory_. [_Aside_.] 'Fore heavens, I applaud my master's modesty! [_Exit with_ TOM FASHION.] _Enter_ SERVANTS, _with_ LORD FOPPINGTON _disarmed_. _Sir Tun_. Come, bring him along, bring him along. _Lord Fop_. What the plague do you mean, gentlemen? is it fair time, that you are all drunk before supper? _Sir Tun_. Drunk, sirrah! here's an impudent rogue for you now. Drunk or sober, bully, I'm a justice o' the peace, and know how to deal with strollers. _Lord Fop_. Strollers! _Sir Tun_. Ay, strollers. Come, give an account of yourself. What's your name? where do you live? do you pay scot and lot? Come, are you a freeholder or a copyholder? _Lord Fop_. And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent questions? _Sir Tun_. Because I'll make you answer 'em, before I have done with you, you rascal, you! _Lord Fop_. Before Gad, all the answer I can make to them is, that you are a very extraordinary old fellow, stap my vitals. _Sir Tun_. Nay, if thou art joking deputy-lieutenants, we know how to deal with you.--Here, draw a warrant for him immediately. _Lord Fop_. A warrant! What the devil is't thou wouldst be at, old gentleman? _Sir Tun_. I would be at you, sirrah, (if my hands were not tied as a magistrate,) and with these two double fists beat your teeth down your throat, you dog, you! [_Driving him_.] _Lord Fop_. And why wouldst thou spoil my face at that rate? _Sir Tun_. For your design to rob me of my daughter, villain. _Lord Fop_. Rob thee of thy daughter! Now do I begin to believe I am in bed and asleep, and that all this is but a dream. Pr'ythee, old father, wilt thou give me leave to ask thee one question? _Sir Tun_. I can't tell whether I will or not, till I know what it is. _Lord Fop_. Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord Foppington, to come down and marry thy daughter? _Sir Tun._ Yes, marry, did I, and my Lord Foppington is come down, and shall marry my daughter before she's a day older. _Lord Fop._ Now give me thy hand, old dad; I thought we should understand one another at last. _Sir Tun._ The fellow's mad!--Here, bind him hand and foot. [_They bind him._] _Lord Fop._ Nay, pr'ythee, knight, leave fooling; thy jest begins to grow dull. _Sir Tun._ Bind him, I say--he's mad: bread and water, a dark room, and a whip, may bring him to his senses again. _Lord Fop._ Pr'ythee, Sir Tunbelly, why should you take such an aversion to the freedom of my address as to suffer the rascals thus to skewer down my arms like a rabbit?--[_Aside._] Egad, if I don't awake, by all that I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent dreams that ever I dreamt in my life. _Re-enter_ MISS HOYDEN _and_ NURSE. _Miss Hoyd._ [_Going up to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Is this he that would have run--Fough, how he stinks of sweets!--Pray, father, let him be dragged through the horse-pond. _Lord Fop._ This must be my wife, by her natural inclination to her husband. [_Aside._] _Miss Hoyd._ Pray, father, what do you intend to do with him--hang him? _Sir Tun._ That, at least, child. _Nurse._ Ay, and it's e'en too good for him too. _Lord Fop._ Madame la gouvernante, I presume: hitherto this appears to me to be one of the most extraordinary families that ever man of quality matched into. [_Aside._] _Sir Tun._ What's become of my lord, daughter? _Miss Hoyd._ He's just coming, sir. _Lord Fop._ My lord! what does he mean by that, now? [_Aside._] _Re-enter_ TOM FASHION _and_ LORY. Stap my vitals, Tam, now the dream's out! [_Runs._] _Fash._ Is this the fellow, sir, that designed to trick me of your daughter? _Sir Tun_. This is he, my lord. How do you like him? Is not he a pretty fellow to get a fortune? _Fash_. I find by his dress he thought your daughter might be taken with a beau. _Miss Hoyd_. Oh, gemini! is this a beau? let me see him again. [_Surveys him_.] Ha! I find a beau is no such ugly thing, neither. _Fash. [Aside_.] Egad, she'll be in love with him presently --I'll e'en have him sent away to jail.--[_To_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Sir, though your undertaking shows you a person of no extraordinary modesty, I suppose you ha'n't confidence enough to expect much favour from me? _Lord Fop_. Strike me dumb, Tam, thou art a very impudent fellow. _Nurse_. Look, if the varlet has not the effrontery to call his lordship plain Thomas! _Lord Fop_. My Lord Foppington, shall I beg one word with your lordship? _Nurse_. Ho, ho! it's my lord with him now! See how afflictions will humble folks. _Miss Hoyd_. Pray, my lord--[_To_ FASHION]--don't let him whisper too close, lest he bite your ear off. _Lord Fop_. I am not altogether so hungry as your ladyship is pleased to imagine.--[_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] Look you, Tam, I am sensible I have not been so kind to you as I ought, but I hope you'll forgive what's past, and accept of the five thousand pounds I offer--thou mayst live in extreme splendour with it, stap my vitals! _Fash_. It's a much easier matter to prevent a disease than to cure it. A quarter of that sum would have secured your mistress, twice as much cannot redeem her. [_Aside to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] _Sir Tun_. Well, what says he? _Fash_. Only the rascal offered me a bribe to let him go. _Sir Tun_. Ay, he shall go, with a plague to him!--lead on, constable. _Enter_ SERVANT. _Ser_. Sir, here is Muster Loveless, and Muster Colonel Townly, and some ladies to wait on you. [_To_ TOM FASHION.] _Lory. [Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] So, sir, what will you do now? _Fash_. [_Aside to_ LORY.] Be quiet; they are in the plot.--[_Aloud_.] Only a few friends, Sir Tunbelly, whom I wish to introduce to you. _Lord Fop_. Thou art the most impudent fellow, Tam, that ever nature yet brought into the world.--Sir Tunbelly, strike me speechless, but these are my friends and acquaintance, and my guests, and they will soon inform thee whether I am the true Lord Foppington or not. _Enter_ LOVELESS, COLONEL TOWNLY, AMANDA, _and_ BERINTHIA.--LORD FOPPINGTON _accosts them as they pass, but none answer him. Fash_. So, gentlemen, this is friendly; I rejoice to see you. _Col. Town_. My lord, we are fortunate to be the witnesses of your lordship's happiness. _Love_. But your lordship will do us the honour to introduce us to Sir Tunbelly Clumsy? _Aman_. And us to your lady. _Lord Fop_. Gad take me, but they are all in a story! [_Aside_.] _Sir Tun_. Gentlemen, you do me much honour; my Lord Foppington's friends will ever be welcome to me and mine. _Fash_. My love, let me introduce you to these ladies. _Miss Hoyd_. By goles, they look so fine and so stiff, I am almost ashamed to come nigh 'em. _Aman_. A most engaging lady indeed! _Miss Hoyd_. Thank ye, ma'am. _Ber_. And I doubt not will soon distinguish herself in the beau monde. _Miss Hoyd_. Where is that? _Fash_. You'll soon learn, my dear. _Love_. But Lord Foppington-- _Lord Fop_. Sir! _Love_. Sir! I was not addressing myself to you, sir!--Pray who is this gentleman? He seems rather in a singular predicament-- _Col. Town_. For so well-dressed a person, a little oddly circumstanced, indeed. _Sir Tun_. Ha! ha! ha!--So, these are your friends and your guests, ha, my adventurer? _Lord Fop_. I am struck dumb with their impudence, and cannot positively say whether I shall ever speak again or not. _Sir Tun._ Why, sir, this modest gentleman wanted to pass himself upon me as Lord Foppington, and carry off my daughter. _Love._ A likely plot to succeed, truly, ha! ha! _Lord Fop._ As Gad shall judge me, Loveless, I did not expect this from thee. Come, pr'ythee confess the joke; tell Sir Tunbelly that I am the real Lord Foppington, who yesterday made love to thy wife; was honoured by her with a slap on the face, and afterwards pinked through the body by thee. _Sir Tun._ A likely story, truly, that a peer would behave thus. _Love._ A pretty fellow, indeed, that would scandalize the character he wants to assume; but what will you do with him, Sir Tunbelly? _Sir Tun._ Commit him, certainly, unless the bride and bridegroom choose to pardon him. _Lord Fop._ Bride and bridegroom! For Gad's sake, Sir Tunbelly, 'tis tarture to me to hear you call 'em so. _Miss Hoyd._ Why, you ugly thing, what would you have him call us--dog and cat? _Lord Fop._ By no means, miss; for that sounds ten times more like man and wife than t'other. _Sir Tun._ A precious rogue this to come a-wooing! _Re-enter_ SERVANT. _Ser._ There are some gentlefolks below to wait upon Lord Foppington. [_Exit._] _Col. Town._ 'Sdeath, Tom, what will you do now? [_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] _Lord Fop._ Now, Sir Tunbelly, here are witnesses who I believe are not corrupted. _Sir Tun._ Peace, fellow!--Would your lordship choose to have your guests shown here, or shall they wait till we come to 'em? _Fash._ I believe, Sir Tunbelly, we had better not have these visitors here yet.--[_Aside_.] Egad, all must out. _Love._ Confess, confess; we'll stand by you. [_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] _Lord Fop._ Nay, Sir Tunbelly, I insist on your calling evidence on both sides--and if I do not prove that fellow an impostor-- _Fash_. Brother, I will save you the trouble, by now confessing that I am not what I have passed myself for.--Sir Tunbelly, I am a gentleman, and I flatter myself a man of character; but'tis with great pride I assure you I am not Lord Foppington. _Sir Tun_. Ouns!--what's this?--an impostor?--a cheat?--fire and faggots, sir, if you are not Lord Foppington, who the devil are you? _Fash_. Sir, the best of my condition is, I am your son-in-law; and the worst of it is, I am brother to that noble peer. _Lord Fop_. Impudent to the last, Gad dem me! _Sir Tun_. My son-in-law! not yet, I hope. _Fash_. Pardon me, sir; thanks to the goodness of your chaplain, and the kind offices of this gentlewoman. _Lory_. 'Tis true indeed, sir; I gave your daughter away, and Mrs. Nurse, here, was clerk. _Sir Tun_. Knock that rascal down!--But speak, Jezebel, how's this? _Nurse_. Alas! your honour, forgive me; I have been overreached in this business as well as you. Your worship knows, if the wedding-dinner had been ready, you would have given her away with your own hands. _Sir Tun_. But how durst you do this without acquainting me? _Nurse_. Alas! if your worship had seen how the poor thing begged and prayed, and clung and twined about me like ivy round an old wall, you would say, I who had nursed it, and reared it, must have had a heart like stone to refuse it. _Sir Tun_. Ouns! I shall go mad! Unloose my lord there, you scoundrels! _Lord Fop_. Why, when these gentlemen are at leisure, I should be glad to congratulate you on your son-in-law, with a little more freedom of address. _Miss Hoyd_. Egad, though, I don't see which is to be my husband after all. _Love_. Come, come, Sir Tunbelly, a man of your understanding must perceive that an affair of this kind is not to be mended by anger and reproaches. _Col. Town_. Take my word for it, Sir Tunbelly, you are only tricked into a son-in-law you may be proud of: my friend Tom Fashion is as honest a fellow as ever breathed. _Love_. That he is, depend on't; and will hunt or drink with you most affectionately: be generous, old boy, and forgive them-- _Sir Tun_. Never! the hussy!--when I had set my heart on getting her a title. _Lord Fop_. Now, Sir Tunbelly, that I am untrussed--give me leave to thank thee for the very extraordinary reception I have met with in thy damned, execrable mansion; and at the same time to assure you, that of all the bumpkins and blockheads I have had the misfortune to meek with, thou art the most obstinate and egregious, strike me ugly! _Sir Tun_. What's this! I believe you are both rogues alike. _Lord Fop_. No, Sir Tunbelly, thou wilt find to thy unspeakable mortification, that I am the real Lord Foppington, who was to have disgraced myself by an alliance with a clod; and that thou hast matched thy girl to a beggarly younger brother of mine, whose title deeds might be contained in thy tobacco-box. _Sir Tun_. Puppy! puppy!--I might prevent their being beggars, if I chose it; for I could give 'em as good a rent-roll as your lordship. _Lord Fop_. Ay, old fellow, but you will not do that--for that would be acting like a Christian, and thou art a barbarian, stap my vitals. _Sir Tun_. Udzookers! now six such words more, and I'll forgive them directly. _Love_. 'Slife, Sir Tunbelly, you should do it, and bless yourself--Ladies, what say you? _Aman_. Good Sir Tunbelly, you must consent. _Ber_. Come, you have been young yourself, Sir Tunbelly. _Sir Tun_. Well then, if I must, I must; but turn--turn that sneering lord out, however, and let me be revenged on somebody. But first look whether I am a barbarian or not; there, children, I join your hands; and when I'm in a better humour, I'll give you my blessing. _Love_. Nobly done, Sir Tunbelly! and we shall see you dance at a grandson's christening yet. _Miss Hoyd_. By goles, though, I don't understand this! What! an't I to be a lady after all? only plain Mrs.--What's my husband's name, nurse? _Nurse_. Squire Fashion. _Miss Hoyd_. Squire, is he?--Well, that's better than nothing. _Lord Fop. [Aside_.] Now I will put on a philosophic air, and show these people, that it is not possible to put a man of my quality out of countenance.--[_Aloud_.] Dear Tam, since things are fallen out, pr'ythee give me leave to wish thee joy; I do it _de bon coeur_, strike me dumb! You have married into a family of great politeness and uncommon elegance of manners, and your bride appears to be a lady beautiful in person, modest in her deportment, refined in her sentiments, and of nice morality, split my windpipe! _Miss Hoyd_. By goles, husband, break his bones if he calls me names! _Fash_. Your lordship may keep up your spirits with your grimace, if you please; I shall support mine, by Sir Tunbelly's favour, with this lady and three thousand pounds a year. _Lord Fop_. Well, adieu, Tam!--Ladies, I kiss your, hands!-- Sir Tunbelly, I shall now quit this thy den; but while I retain the use of my arms, I shall ever remember thou art a demned horrid savage; Ged demn me! [_Exit_.] _Sir Tun_. By the mass, 'tis well he's gone--for I should ha' been provoked, by-and-by, to ha' dun un a mischief. Well, if this is a lord, I think Hoyden has luck on her side, in troth. _Col. Town_. She has, indeed, Sir Tunbelly.--But I hear the fiddles; his lordship, I know, has provided 'em. _Love_. Oh, a dance and a bottle, Sir Tunbelly, by all means! _Sir Tun_. I had forgot the company below; well--what--we must be merry, then, ha? and dance and drink, ha? Well, 'fore George, you shan't say I do these things by halves. Son-in-law there looks like a hearty rogue, so we'll have a night on't: and which of these ladies will be the old man's partner, ha?--Ecod, I don't know how I came to be in so good a humour. _Ber_. Well, Sir Tunbelly, my friend and I both will endeavour to keep you so: you have done a generous action, and are entitled to our attention. If you should be at a loss to divert your new guests, we will assist you to relate to them the plot of your daughter's marriage, and his lordship's deserved mortification; a subject which perhaps may afford no bad evening's entertainment. _Sir Tun_. Ecod, with all my heart; though I am a main bungler at a long story. _Ber_. Never fear; we will assist you, if the tale is judged worth being repeated; but of this you may be assured, that while the intention is evidently to please, British auditors will ever be indulgent to the errors of the performance. [Exeunt omnes.]

THE CRITIC; OR, A TRAGEDY REHEARSED _A DRAMATIC PIECE IN THREE ACTS_ TO MRS. GREVILLE _MADAM_,--In requesting your permission to address the following pages to you, which, as they aim themselves to be critical, require every protection and allowance that approving taste or friendly prejudice can give them, I yet ventured to mention no other motive than the gratification of private friendship and esteem. Had I suggested a hope that your implied approbation would give a sanction to their defects, your particular reserve, and dislike to the reputation of critical taste, as well as of poetical talent, would have made you refuse the protection of your name to such a purpose. However, I am not so ungrateful as now to attempt to combat this disposition in you. I shall not here presume to argue that the present state of poetry claims and expects every assistance that taste and example can afford it; nor endeavour to prove that a fastidious concealment of the most elegant productions of judgment and fancy is an ill return for the possession of those endowments. Continue to deceive yourself in the idea that you are known only to be eminently admired and regarded for the valuable qualities that attach private friendships, and the graceful talents that adorn conversation. Enough of what you have written has stolen into full public notice to answer my purpose; and you will, perhaps, be the only person, conversant in elegant literature, who shall read this address and not perceive that by publishing your particular approbation of the following drama, I have a more interested object than to boast the true respect and regard with which I have the honour to be, Madam, your very sincere and obedient humble servant, R. B. SHERIDAN.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE IN 1779

SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY. _Mr. Parsons_. PUFF. _Mr. King_. DANGLE. _Mr. Dodd_ SNEER. _Mr. Palmer_. SIGNOR PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. _Mr. Delpini_. INTERPRETER. _Mr. Baddeley_. UNDER PROMPTER. _Mr. Phillimore_. MR. HOPKINS. _Mr. Hopkins_. MRS. DANGLE. _Mrs. Hopkins_. SIGNORE PASTICCIO RITORNELLO. _Miss Field and the Miss Abrams_.

Scenemen, Musicians, _and_ Servants.

CHARACTERS OF THE TRAGEDY

LORD BURLEIGH. _Mr. Moody_. GOVERNOR OF TILBURY FORT. _Mr. Wrighten_. EARL OF LEICESTER. _Mr. Farren_. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. _Mr. Burton_. SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. _Mr. Waldron_. MASTER OF THE HORSE. _Mr. Kenny_. DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS. _Mr. Bannister, jun_. BEEFEATER. _Mr. Wright_. JUSTICE. _Mr. Packer_. SON. _Mr. Lamash_. CONSTABLE. _Mr. Fawcett_. THAMES. _Mr. Gawdry_. TILBURINA. _Miss Pope_. CONFIDANT. _Mrs. Bradshaw_. JUSTICE's LADY. _Mrs. Johnston_. FIRST NIECE. _Miss Collett_. SECOND NIECE. _Miss Kirby_.

Knights, Guards, Constables, Sentinels, Servants, Chorus, Rivers, Attendants, &c., &c. SCENE--LONDON: _in_ DANGLES _House during the First Act, and throughout the rest of the Play in_ DRURY LANE THEATRE. PROLOGUE BY THE HONOURABLE RICHARD FITZPATRICK

THE sister Muses, whom these realms obey, Who o'er the drama hold divided sway, Sometimes by evil counsellors, 'tis said, Like earth-born potentates have been misled. In those gay days of wickedness and wit, When Villiers criticised what Dryden writ, The tragic queen, to please a tasteless crowd, Had learn'd to bellow, rant, and roar so loud, That frighten'd Nature, her best friend before, The blustering beldam's company foreswore; Her comic sister, who had wit 'tis true, With all her merits, had her failings too: And would sometimes in mirthful moments use A style too flippant for a well-bred muse; Then female modesty abash'd began To seek the friendly refuge of the fan, Awhile behind that slight intrenchment stood, Till driven from thence, she left the stage for good. In our more pious, and far chaster times, These sure no longer are the Muse's crimes! But some complain that, former faults to shun, The reformation to extremes has run. The frantic hero's wild delirium past, Now insipidity succeeds bombast: So slow Melpomene's cold numbers creep, Here dulness seems her drowsy court to keep, And we are scarce awake, whilst you are fast asleep. Thalia, once so ill-behaved and rude, Reform'd, is now become an arrant prude; Retailing nightly to the yawning pit The purest morals, undefiled by wit! Our author offers, in these motley scenes, A slight remonstrance to the drama's queens: Nor let the goddesses be over nice; Free-spoken subjects give the best advice. Although not quite a novice in his trade, His cause to-night requires no common aid. To this, a friendly, just, and powerful court, I come ambassador to beg support. Can he undaunted brave the critic's rage? In civil broils with brother bards engage? Hold forth their errors to the public eye, Nay more, e'en newspapers themselves defy? Say, must his single arm encounter all? By number vanquish'd, e'en the brave may fall; And though no leader should success distrust, Whose troops are willing, and whose cause is just; To bid such hosts of angry foes defiance, His chief dependence must be, your alliance.