SCENE I.

_The Quay._

_Enter PATTY._

_Patty._ Mercy on us! what a walk I have had of it! Well, matters go on swimmingly at the Governor's--The old gentleman has ordered the carriage, and the young couple will be whisked here, to church, in a quarter of an hour. My business is to prevent young sobersides, young Inkle, from appearing, to interrupt the ceremony.--Ha! here's the Crown, where I hear he is housed: So now to find Trudge, and trump up a story, in the true style of a chambermaid. [_Goes into the house._] [_PATTY within._] I tell you it don't signify, and I will come up. [_TRUDGE within._] But it does signify, and you can't come up.

_Re-enter PATTY with TRUDGE._

_Patty._ You had better say at once, I shan't.

_Trudge._ Well then, you shan't.

_Patty._ Savage! Pretty behaviour you have picked up amongst the Hottypots! Your London civility, like London itself, will soon be lost in smoke, Mr. Trudge: and the politeness you have studied so long in Threadneedle-street, blotted out by the blacks you have been living with.

_Trudge._ No such thing; I practised my politeness all the while I was in the woods. Our very lodging taught me good manners; for I could never bring myself to go into it without bowing.

_Patty._ Don't tell me! A mighty civil reception you give a body, truly, after a six weeks parting.

_Trudge._ Gad, you're right; I am a little out here, to be sure. [_Kisses her._] Well, how do you do?

_Patty._ Pshaw, fellow! I want none of your kisses.

_Trudge._ Oh! very well--I'll take it again. [_Offers to kiss her._]

_Patty._ Be quiet. I want to see Mr. Inkle: I have a message to him from Miss Narcissa. I shall get a sight of him, now, I believe.

_Trudge._ May be not. He's a little busy at present.

_Patty._ Busy--ha! Plodding! What he's at his multiplication table again?

_Trudge._ Very likely; so it would be a pity to interrupt him, you know.

_Patty._ Certainly; and the whole of my business was to prevent his hurrying himself--Tell him, we shan't be ready to receive him, at the Governor's, till to-morrow, d'ye hear?

_Trudge._ No?

_Patty._ No. Things are not prepared. The place isn't in order; and the servants have not had proper notice of the arrival. Sir Christopher intends Mr. Inkle, you know, for his son-in-law, and must receive him in public form, (which can't be till to-morrow morning) for the honour of his governorship: why the whole island will ring of it.

_Trudge._ The devil it will!

_Patty._ Yes; they've talked of nothing but my mistress's beauty and fortune for these six weeks. Then he'll be introduced to the bride, you know.

_Trudge._ O, my poor master!

_Patty._ Then a breakfast; then a procession; then--if nothing happens to prevent it, he'll get into church, and be married in a crack.

_Trudge._ Then he'll get into a damn'd scrape, in a crack.

_Patty._ Hey-day! a scrape! How!

_Trudge._ Nothing, nothing----It must out----Patty!

_Patty._ Well!

_Trudge._ Can you keep a secret?

_Patty._ Try me.

_Trudge._ Then [_Whispering._] My master keeps a girl.

_Patty._ Oh, monstrous! another woman?

_Trudge._ As sure as one and one make two.

_Patty._ [_Aside._] Rare news for my mistress!--Why I can hardly believe it: the grave, sly, steady, sober Mr. Inkle, do such a thing!

_Trudge._ Pooh! it's always your sly, sober fellows, that go the most after the girls.

_Patty._ Well; I should sooner suspect _you_.

_Trudge._ Me? Oh Lord! he! he!--Do you think any smart, tight, little, black-eyed wench, would be struck with my figure? [_Conceitedly._]

_Patty._ Pshaw! never mind your figure. Tell me how it happened?

_Trudge._ You shall hear: when the ship left us ashore, my master turned as pale as a sheet of paper. It isn't every body that's blest with courage, Patty.

_Patty._ True.

_Trudge._ However, I bid him cheer up; told him, to stick to my elbow: took the lead, and began our march.

_Patty._ Well?

_Trudge._ We hadn't gone far, when a damn'd one-eyed black boar, that grinned like a devil, came down the hill in jog trot! My Master melted as fast as a pot of pomatum!

_Patty._ Mercy on us!

_Trudge._ But what does I do, but whips out my desk knife, that I used to cut the quills with at home; met the monster, and slit up his throat like a pen--The boar bled like a pig.

_Patty._ Lord! Trudge, what a great traveller you are!

_Trudge._ Yes; I remember we fed on the flitch for a week.

_Patty._ Well, well; but the lady.

_Trudge._ The lady! Oh, true. By and by we came to a cave--a large hollow room, under ground, like a warehouse in the Adelphi.--Well; there we were half an hour, before I could get him to go in; there's no accounting for fear, you know. At last, in we went, to a place hung round with skins, as it might be a furrier's shop, and there was a fine lady, snoring on a bow and arrows.

_Patty._ What, all alone?

_Trudge._ Eh!--No--no.--Hum--She had a young lion, by way of a lap-dog.

_Patty._ Gemini; what did you do?

_Trudge._ Gave her a jog, and she opened her eyes--she struck my master immediately.

_Patty._ Mercy on us! with what?

_Trudge._ With her beauty, you ninny, to be sure: and they soon brought matters to bear. The wolves witnessed the contract--I gave her away--The crows croaked amen; and we had board and lodging for nothing.

_Patty._ And this is she he has brought to Barbadoes?

_Trudge._ The same.

_Patty._ Well; and tell me, Trudge;--she's pretty, you say--Is she fair or brown? or----

_Trudge._ Um! she's a good comely copper.

_Patty._ How! a tawny?

_Trudge._ Yes, quite dark; but very elegant; like a Wedgwood tea-pot.

_Patty._ Oh! the monster! the filthy fellow! Live with a black-a-moor!

_Trudge._ Why, there's no great harm in't, I hope?

_Patty._ Faugh! I wou'dn't let him kiss me for the world: he'd make my face all smutty.

_Trudge._ Zounds! you are mighty nice all of a sudden; but I'd have you to know, Madam Patty, that Black-a-moor ladies, as you call 'em, are some of the very few whose complexions never rub off! 'Sbud, if they did, Wows and I should have changed faces by this time--But mum; not a word for your life.

_Patty._ Not I! except to the Governor and family. [_Aside._] But I must run--and, remember, Trudge, if your master has made a mistake here, he has himself to thank for his pains.

[_Exit PATTY._

_Trudge._ Pshaw! these girls are so plaguy proud of their white and red! but I won't be shamed out of Wows, that's flat.--

_Enter WOWSKI._

Ah! Wows, I'm going to leave you.

_Wows._ For what you leave me?

_Trudge._ Master says I must.

_Wows._ Ah, but you say in your country, women know best; and I say you not leave me.

_Trudge._ Master, to be sure, while we were in the forest, taught Yarico to read, with his pencil and pocket-book. What then? Wows comes on fine and fast in her lessons. A little awkward at first, to be sure--Ha! ha!--She's so used to feed with her hands, that I can't get her to eat her victuals, in a genteel, christian way, for the soul of me; when she has stuck a morsel on her fork, she don't know how to guide it, but pops up her knuckles to her mouth, and the meat goes up to her ear. But, no matter--After all the fine, flashy London girls, Wowski's the wench for my money.

SONG.

_A clerk I was in London gay,_ _Jemmy linkum feedle,_ _And went in boots to see the play,_ _Merry fiddlem tweedle._ _I march'd the lobby, twirled my stick,_ _Diddle, daddle, deedle;_ _The girls all cry'd, "He's quite the kick."_ _Oh, Jemmy linkum feedle._

_Hey! for America I sail,_ _Yankee doodle, deedle;_ _The sailor-boys cry'd, "Smoke his tail!"_ _Jemmy linkum feedle._ _On English belles I turned my back,_ _Diddle, daddle, deedle;_ _And got a foreign fair quite black,_ _O twaddle, twaddle, tweedle!_

_Your London girls, with roguish trip,_ _Wheedle, wheedle, wheedle,_ _May boast their pouting under lip,_ _Fiddle, faddle, feedle._ _My Wows would beat a hundred such,_ _Diddle, daddle, deedle,_ _Whose upper lip pouts twice as much,_ _O, pretty double wheedle!_

_Rings I'll buy to deck her toes;_ _Jemmy linkum feedle;_ _A feather fine shall grace her nose,_ _Waving siddle seedle._ _With jealousy I ne'er shall burst;_ _Who'd steal my bone of bone-a?_ _A white Othello, I can trust_ _A dingy Desdemona._

[Exeunt.