ACT I

(_Enter_ SHARK _and_ LUCY--_meeting_)

_Shark._ Good morrow, Lucy.

_Lucy._ Good morrow, Shark.

_Shark._ Give me a Kiss, Hussy. (_Kisses her_)

_Lucy._ Psha--prithee don't touzle and mouzle a Body so; can't you salute without rumpling one's Tucker and spoiling one's Things? I hate to be tumbled. (_Adjusting herself_)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Lucy._ Never.

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

_Lucy._ Here your Master comes.

_Shark._ He's welcome.

(_Enter_ BELLAIR)

_Bell._ O Lucy, we are all undone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(_Enter_ SKINFLINT _dressed in a Nightgown, a fur Nightcap, his hands muffled in Flannel, his feet in gouty Shoes_)

_Bell._ A good morning to you, Sir.

_Skin._ A good morning to you, Nephew. Auh! auh!

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

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

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

_Skin._ Something better but very weak--very faint indeed, Nephew! O--o--o, very faint.

_Bell._ You should take something comfortable, Sir--Cordials to repair the breaches you Illness hath made.

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

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

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

_Bell._ Heaven forbid, Sir.

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

_Bell._ Very true, Sir.

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

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

(_Enter a_ SERVANT)

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

_Skin._ Desire him to walk in. (_Exit Servant_)

(_Enter Mr._ LITTLEWIT)

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

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

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

_Little._ Sir, your Directions shall be observed with Punctuality and Expedition. (_Exit_)

_Skin._ So you approve of my Marriage, you say, Nephew?

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

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

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

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

(_Enter a_ SERVANT)

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

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

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

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

_Bell._ Very well, Sir, and very genteel.

_Skin._ Now shew the Ladies up, Lucy. I protest this dressing hath fatigued me, auh! auh! auh! (_coughing_)

_Lucy._ (_To Bellair as she goes out_) I have hinted something to Harriet which I believe will break off the Match infallibly. (_Exit_)

_Skin._ Nephew, notwithstanding, auh!--This Marriage, I shall make a handsome Provision for you.

_Bell._ Sir, your Health and Happiness are my chiefest Blessings.

(_Enter Lady_ LOVEWEALTH, HARRIET _and_ LUCY)

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

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

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

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

_Skin._ I should be very ill indeed, Madam, if such powerful Eyes as yours could not give me new Life. (_Bowing very low_)

_Har._ O Sir, your Servant. (_Curtsying very low_)

_Lad._ Very gallant indeed, Sir.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Skin._ O Lord, Madam! (_Bowing_)

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

_Skin._ Madam! (_starting_)

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

_Skin._ Shroud and Coffin! (_He walks off! She after him_)

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

_Skin._ Why really, Madam----

_Har._ Why really, Sir, you'll repent it.

_Skin._ I believe it, I believe it, Madam.

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

_Skin._ Not long I am sure if I marry you.

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

_Skin._ O monstrous!

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

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

_Skin._ O lud! O lud!

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

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

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

_Skin._ I shall choke with Rage. Auh! Auh!

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

_Har._ What? Why I have told him, Death! Death! Death!

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

_Bell._ Madam, let me beg you will shorten your Visit.

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

_Skin._ Dear Nephew, see her out of the House; she has almost worried me to Death. (_Sits down_) (_Exit Bellair_)

(_Enter_ LUCY)

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

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

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

(SHARK _without, dressed like a Fox Hunter, drunk, knocking very loud and hollowing_)

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

_Skin._ Bless us, who is it knocks so? ([_knocking_] _within_)

_Lucy._ The Lord knows, Sir, some Madman I believe--It is Shark, I suppose. (_Aside_)

(_Enter_ SHARK)

_Shar._ Hey House! Family! Where are you all?

_Lucy._ What do you want, Sir?

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

_Lucy._ Skinflint!

_Shar._ Ay, Skinflint.

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

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

_Skin._ It is, Sir.

_Shar._ Then give me you Hand, old Boy. (_Shakes him by the Flannels_)

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

_Shar._ So much the better; the sooner you die the better for me.

_Skin._ For you? Pray, Sir, who are you?

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

_Skin._ Are you my Nephew?

_Shar._ Yes, Sir.

_Skin._ I am sorry for it.

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

_Skin._ In four Months?

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

_Skin._ They belied our Family, Sir--for our Family----

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

_Skin._ My Heir!

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

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

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

_Skin._ Sir, your Servant.

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

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

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

_Skin._ I am very much obliged to you, Nephew. (_Aside to Lucy_) Was there ever such a Reprobate, Lucy?

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

_Skin._ I believe you, Nephew.

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

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

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

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

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

_Skin._ O most passionately.

_Shar._ Give me your Hand. (_Slaps him upon the Shoulder_) Old Boy, I love you for that.

_Skin._ O, O, O, O, he has killed me; I am murdered.

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

_Skin._ O, O, O, I can't bear to be touched.

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

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

(_Enter Mr._ DEATH)

_Shar._ O Mr. Death, your Servant.

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

_Shar._ That old Prig in the Chair there.

_Death._ Sir, your humble Servant.

_Skin._ Sir, your Servant. What are your Commands with me?

_Death._ Sir, my Name is Death.

_Skin._ Death!

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

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

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

_Skin._ What! How!

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

(SHARK _lays hold of him while Mr._ DEATH _measures him_)

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

(_Enter_ LUCY _and_ BELLAIR)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Lucy._ I think you have a very fair one now.

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

_The Stateman's Skill like mine is all Deceit_ _What's Policy in him--in me's a Cheat._ _Titles and Wealth reward his noble Art,_ _Cudgels and Bruises mine--sometimes a Cart._ _Twas, is and will he, to the End of Time,_ _That Poverty not Fraud creates the Crime._

(_Exeunt_)