Part 6

_Gripe._ Mr. _Clip_, your servant, I'm glad to see you: how do you do?

_Clip._ At your service, Sir, very well. Your servant, Madam _Gripe_.

_Clar._ Horrid fellow!

[_Aside._

_Gripe._ Well, Mr. _Clip_, no news yet of my wife's necklace?

_Clip._ If you please to let me speak with you in the next room, I have something to say to you.

_Gripe._ Ay, with all my heart. Shut the door after us. [_They come forward, and the Scene shuts behind them._] Well, any news?

_Clip._ Look you, Sir, here's a necklace brought me to sell, at least very like that you describ'd to me.

_Gripe._ Let's see't----_Victoria_! the very same. Ah my dear _Mr. Clip_----[_Kisses him._] But who brought it you? you should have seiz'd him.

_Clip._ 'Twas a young fellow that I know: I can't tell whether he may be guilty, tho' its like enough. But he has only left it me now, to shew a brother of our trade, and will call upon me again presently.

_Gripe._ Wheedle him hither, dear Mr. _Clip_. Here's my neighbour _Money-trap_ in the house; he's a justice, and will commit him presently.

_Clip._ 'Tis enough.

_Enter ~Brass~._

_Gripe._ O, my friend _Brass_!

_Brass._ Hold, Sir, I think that's a gentleman I'm looking for. Mr. _Clip_, O your servant; what, are you acquainted here? I have just been at your shop.

_Clip._ I only stept here to shew Mr. _Gripe_ the necklace you left.

_Brass._ Why, Sir, you understand jewels? [_To Gripe._] I thought you had dealt only in gold. But I smoak the matter; hark you----a word in your ear----you are going to play the gallant again, and make a purchase on't for _Araminta_; ha, ha?

_Gripe._ Where had you the necklace?

_Brass._ Look you, don't trouble yourself about that; it's in commission with me, and I can help you to a pennyworth on't.

_Gripe._ A pennyworth on't, villain?

[_Strikes at him._

_Brass._ Villain! a hey, a hey. Is't you or me, Mr. _Clip_, he's pleas'd to compliment?

_Clip._ What do you think on't, Sir?

_Brass._ Think on't, now the devil fetch me if I know what to think on't.

_Gripe._ You'll sell a pennyworth, rogue! of a thing you have stol'n from me.

_Brass._ Stol'n! pray, Sir----what wine have you drank to-day? It has a very merry effect upon you.

_Gripe._ You villain; either give me an account how you stole it, or----

_Brass._ O ho, Sir, if you please, don't carry your jest too far, I don't understand hard words, I give you warning on't: if you han't a mind to buy the necklace, you may let it alone, I know how to dispose on't. What a pox!----

_Gripe._ O, you shan't have that trouble, Sir. Dear Mr. _Clip_, you may leave the necklace here. I'll call at your shop, and thank you for your care.

_Clip._ Sir, your humble servant.

[_Going._

_Brass._ O ho, Mr. _Clip_, if you please, Sir, this won't do, [_Stopping him._] I don't understand rallery in such matters.

_Clip._ I leave it with _Mr Gripe_, do you and he dispute it.

[_Exit ~Clip~._

_Brass._ Ay, but 'tis from you, by your leave, Sir, that I expect it.

[_Going after him._

_Gripe._ You expect, you rogue, to make your escape, do you? But I have other accounts besides this, to make up with you. To be sure the dog has cheated me of two hundred and fifty pounds. Come, villain, give me an account of----

_Brass._ Account of!----Sir, give me an account of my necklace, or I'll make such a noise in your house, I'll raise the devil in't.

_Gripe._ Well said, courage.

_Brass._ Blood and thunder, give it me, or----

_Gripe._ Come, hush, be wise, and I'll make no noise of this affair.

_Brass._ You'll make no noise! But I'll make a noise; and a damn'd noise too. O, don't think to----

_Gripe._ I tell thee I will not hang thee.

_Brass._ But I tell you I will hang you, if you don't give me my necklace, I will, rot me.

_Gripe._ Speak softly, be wise; how came it thine? who gave it thee?

_Brass._ A gentleman, a friend of mine.

_Gripe._ What's his name?

_Brass._ His name!----I'm in such a passion I have forgot it.

_Gripe._ Ah, brazen rogue----thou hast stole it from my wife: 'tis the same she lost six weeks ago.

_Brass._ This has not been in _England_ a month.

_Gripe._ You are a son of a whore.

_Brass._ Give me my necklace.

_Gripe._ Give me my two hundred and fifty pound note.

_Brass._ Yet I offer peace: one word without passion. The case stands thus, either I'm out of my wits, or you are out of yours: now 'tis plain I am not out of my wits, _Ergo_----

_Gripe._ My bill, hang-dog, or I'll strangle thee.

[_They struggle._

_Brass._ Murder, murder!

_Enter ~Clarissa~, ~Araminta~, ~Corinna~, ~Flippanta~, and ~Money-trap~._

_Flip._ What's the matter? What's the matter here?

_Gripe._ I'll matter him.

_Clar._ Who makes thee cry out thus, poor _Brass_?

_Brass._ Why, your husband, Madam, he's in his altitudes here.

_Gripe._ Robber.

_Brass._ Here, he has cheated me of a diamond necklace.

_Cor._ Who, Papa? Ah dear me!

_Clar._ Pr'ythee what's the meaning of this great emotion, my dear?

_Gripe._ The meaning is that----I'm quite out of breath----this son of a whore has got our necklace, that's all.

_Clar._ My necklace!

_Gripe._ That birdlime there--stole it.

_Clar._ Impossible!

_Brass._ Madam, you see master's a little----touch'd, that's all. Twenty ounces of blood let loose, wou'd set all right again.

_Gripe._ Here, call a constable presently. Neighbour _Money-trap_, you'll commit him.

_Brass._ D'ye hear? d'ye hear? See how wild he looks: how his eyes roll in his head: tye him down, or he'll do some mischief or other.

_Gripe._ Let me come at him.

_Clar._ Hold----pr'ythee, my dear, reduce things to a little temperance, and let us coolly into the secret of this disagreeable rupture.

_Gripe._ Well then, without passion; why, you must know, (but I'll have him hang'd) you must know that he came to Mr. _Clip_, to Mr. _Clip_ the dog did----with a necklace to sell; so Mr. _Clip_ having notice before that (can you deny this, Sirrah?) that you had lost yours, brings it to me: Look at it here, do you know it again? Ah, you traitor.

[_To ~Brass~._

_Brass._ He makes me mad. Here's an appearance of something now to the company, and yet nothing in't in the bottom.

_Enter Constable._

_Clar._ _Flippanta_!

[_Aside to ~Flippanta~, shewing the necklace._

_Flip._ 'Tis it, faith; here's some mystery in this, we must look about us.

_Clar._ The safest way is point blank to disown the necklace.

_Flip._ Right, stick to that.

_Gripe._ Well, Madam, do you know your old acquaintance, ha?

_Clar._ Why, truly, my dear, tho' (as you may all imagine) I shou'd be very glad to recover so valuable a thing as my necklace, yet I must be just to all the world, this necklace is not mine.

_Brass._ Huzza----here constable do your duty; Mr. Justice, I demand my necklace, and satisfaction of him.

_Gripe._ I'll die before I part with it, I'll keep it, and have him hang'd.

_Clar._ But be a little calm, my dear, do my bird, and then thou'lt be able to judge rightly of things.

_Gripe._ O good lack, O good lack.

_Clar._ No, but don't give way to fury and interest both, either of 'em are passions strong enough to lead a wise man out of the way. The necklace not being really mine, give it the man again, and come drink a dish of tea.

_Brass._ Ay, Madam says right.

_Gripe._ Oons, if you with your addle head don't know your own jewels, I with my solid one do. And if I part with it, may famine be my portion.

_Clar._ But don't swear and curse thyself at this fearful rate; don't, my dove: Be temperate in your words, and just in all your actions, 'twill bring a blessing upon you and all your family.

_Gripe._ Bring thunder and lightning upon me and my family, if I part with my necklace.

_Clar._ Why, you'll have the lightning burn your house about your ears, my dear, it you go on in these practices.

_Mon._ A most excellent woman this!

[_Aside._

_Enter Mrs. ~Amlet~._

_Gripe._ I'll keep my necklace.

_Brass._ Will you so? then here comes one has a title to it, if I han't; let _Dick_ bring himself off with her as he can. Mrs. _Amlet_, you are come in very good time, you lost a necklace t'other day, and who do you think has got it?

_Aml._ Marry, that I know not, I wish I did.

_Brass._ Why then here's Mr. _Gripe_ has it, and swears 'tis his wife's.

_Gripe._ And so I do, sirrah----look here, Mistress, do you pretend this is yours?

_Aml._ Not for the round world I wou'd not say it; I only kept it to do Madam a small courtesy? that's all.

_Clar._ Ah, _Flippanta_, all will out now.

[_Aside to ~Flip~._

_Gripe._ Courtesy! what courtesy?

_Aml._ A little money only that madam had present need of, please to pay me that, and I demand no more.

_Brass._ So here's fresh game, I have started a new hare, I find.

[_Aside._

_Gripe._ How forsooth, is this true?

[_To ~Clarissa~._

_Clar._ You are in a humour at present, love, to believe any thing, so I won't take the pains to contradict it.

_Brass._ This damn'd necklace will spoil all our affairs, this is _Dick_'s luck again.

[_Aside._

_Gripe._ Are you not asham'd of these ways? Do you see how you are expos'd before your best friends here? don't you blush at it?

_Clar._ I do blush, my dear, but 'tis for you, that here it shou'd appear to the world, you keep me so bare of money, I'm forc'd to pawn my jewels.

_Gripe._ Impudent houswife!

[_Raising his hand to strike her._

_Clar._ Softly, chicken: you might have prevented all this by giving me the two hundred and fifty pounds you sent to _Araminta_ e'en now.

_Brass._ You see, Sir, I deliver'd your note: how I have been abus'd to-day!

_Gripe._ I'm betray'd----jades on both sides, I see that.

[_Aside._

_Mon._ But, Madam, Madam, is this true I hear? Have you taken a present of two hundred and fifty pounds? Pray what were you to return for these pounds, Madam, ha?

_Aram._ Nothing, my dear, I only took 'em to reimburse you of about the same sum you sent to _Clarissa_.

_Mon._ Hum, hum, hum.

_Gripe._ How, gentlewoman, did you receive money from him?

_Clar._ O, my dear, 'twas only in jest, I knew you'd give it again to his wife.

_Aml._ But amongst all this tintamar, I don't hear a word of my hundred pounds. Is it Madam will pay me, or Master?

_Gripe._ I pay, the Devil shall pay.

_Clar._ Look you, my dear, malice apart, pay Mrs. _Amlet_ her money, and I'll forgive you the wrong you intended my bed with _Araminta_: Am not I a good wife now?

_Gripe._ I burst with rage, and will get rid of this noose, tho' I tuck myself up in another.

_Mon._ Nay, pray, e'en tuck me up with you.

[_Exit ~Mon.~ and ~Gripe.~_

_Clar. & Aram._ B'ye, dearies.

_Enter ~Dick~._

_Cor._ Look, look, _Flippanta_, here's the colonel come at last.

_Dick._ Ladies, I ask your pardon, I have stay'd so long, but----

_Aml._ Ah rogue's face, have I got thee, old Good-for-nought? sirrah, sirrah, do you think to amuse me with your marriages, and your great fortunes? Thou hast play'd me a rare prank by my conscience. Why you ungracious rascal, what do you think will be the end of all this? Now Heaven forgive me, but I have a great mind to hang thee for't.

_Cor._ She talks to him very familiarly, _Flippanta_.

_Flip._ So methinks, by my faith.

_Brass._ Now the rogue's star is making an end of him.

[_Aside._

_Dick._ What shall I do with her?

[_Aside._

_Aml._ Do but look at him, my dames, he has the countenance of a cherubim, but he's a rogue in his heart.

_Clar._ What is the meaning of all this, Mrs. _Amlet_?

_Aml._ The meaning, good lack! Why this all-to-be powder'd rascal here, is my son, an't please you; ha, graceless? Now I'll make you own your mother, vermine.

_Clar._ What, the colonel your son?

_Aml._ 'Tis _Dick_, Madam, that rogue _Dick_, I have so often told you of, with tears trickling down my old cheeks.

_Aram._ The woman's mad, it can never be.

_Aml._ Speak, rogue, am I not thy mother, ha? Did I not bring thee forth? say then.

_Dick._ What will you have me say? you had a mind to ruin me, and you have done't; wou'd you do any more?

_Clar._ Then, sir, you are son to good Mrs. _Amlet_?

_Aram._ And have had the assurance to put upon us all this while?

_Flip._ And the confidence to think of marrying _Corinna_.

_Brass._ And the impudence to hire me for your servant, who am as well born as yourself.

_Clar._ Indeed I think he shou'd be corrected.

_Aram._ Indeed I think he deserves to be cudgell'd.

_Flip._ Indeed I think he might be pumpt.

_Brass._ Indeed I think he will be hang'd.

_Aml._ Good lack-a-day, good lack-a-day! there's no need to be so smart upon him neither: if he is not a gentleman, he's a gentleman's fellow. Come hither, _Dick_, they shan't run thee down neither: cock up thy hat, _Dick_, and tell them tho' Mrs. _Amlet_ is thy mother, she can make thee amends, with ten thousand good pounds to buy thee some lands, and build thee a house in the midst on't.

_Omnes._ How!

_Clar._ Ten thousand pounds, Mrs. _Amlet_?

_Aml._ Yes, forsooth; tho' I shou'd lose the hundred, you pawn'd your necklace for. Tell 'em that, _Dick_.

_Cor._ Look you, _Flippanta_, I can hold no longer, and I hate to see the young man abus'd. And so, Sir, if you please, I'm your friend and servant, and what's mine is yours; and when our estates are put together, I don't doubt but we shall do as well as the best of 'em.

_Dick._ Say'st thou so, my little queen? Why then if dear mother will give us her blessing, the parson shall give us a tack. We'll get her a score of grand-children, and a merry house we'll make her.

[_They kneel to Mrs. ~Amlet~._

_Aml._ Ah----ha, ha, ha, the pretty pair, the pretty pair! rise my chickens, rise, rise and face the proudest of them. And if Madam does not deign to give her consent, a fig for her _Dick_----Why how now?

_Clar._ Pray, Mrs. _Amlet_, don't be in a passion, the girl is my husband's girl, and if you can have his consent, upon my word you shall have mine, for any thing that belongs to him.

_Flip._ Then all is peace again, but we have been more lucky than wise.

_Aram._ And I suppose, for us, _Clarissa_, we are to go on with our dears, as we us'd to do.

_Clar._ Just in the same track, for this late treaty of agreement with 'em, was so unnatural, you see it cou'd not hold. But 'tis just as well with us, as if it had. Well, 'tis a strange fate, good folks. But while you live, every thing gets well out of a broil, but a husband.

EPILOGUE,

Spoken by Mrs. =Barry=.

_I've heard wise men in politicks lay down } What feats by little England might be done, } Were all agreed, and all would act as one. } Ye wives a useful hint from this might take, } The heavy, old, despotick kingdom shake, } And make your matrimonial_ Monsieurs _quake. } Our heads are feeble, and we're cramp'd by laws; Our hands are weak, and not too strong our cause: Yet would those heads and hands, such as they are, } In firm confed'racy resolve on war, } You'd find your tyrants----what I've found my dear. } What only two united can produce You've seen to-night, a sample for your use: Single, we found we nothing could obtain; We join our force--and we subdu'd our men. Believe me (my dear sex) they are not brave; Try each your man, you'll quickly find your slave. I know they'll make campaigns, risk blood and life; } But this is a more terrifying strife; } They'll stand a shot, who'll tremble at a wife. } Beat then your drums, and your shrill trumpets sound, } Let all your visits of your feats resound: } And deeds of war in cups of tea go round: } The stars are with you, fate is in your hand, } In twelve months time you've vanquish'd half the land; } Be wise, and keep 'em under good command. } This year will to your glory long be known, And deathless ballads hand your triumphs down; Your late atchievements ever will remain, } For tho' you cannot boast of many slain, } Your pris'ners shew, you've made a brave campaign._ }

THE

MISTAKE.

A

COMEDY.

PROLOGUE,

_Written by Mr._ +STEELE+.

Spoken by Mr. _Booth_.

_Our author's wit and rallery to-night } Perhaps might please, but that your stage delight } No more is in your minds, but ears and sight. } With audiences compos'd of belles and beaux, The first dramatick rule is, have good clothes, To charm the gay spectator's gentle breast, } In lace and feather Tragedy's express'd, } And heroes die unpity'd, if ill-dress'd._ }

_The other stile you full as well advance; If 'tis a comedy, you ask----who dance? For oh! what dire convulsions have of late Torn and distracted each dramatick state, On this great question, which house first should sell The new ~French~ steps imported by ~Ruel~! ~Desbarques~ can't rise so high, we must agree, They've half a foot in height more wit than we. But tho' the genius of our learned age } Thinks fit to dance and sing, quite off the stage, } True action, comic mirth, and tragic rage; } Yet as your taste now stands, our author draws Some hopes of your indulgence and applause. For that great end this edifice he made, Where humble swain at lady's feet is laid; Where the pleas'd nymph her conquer'd lover spies, } Then to glass pillars turns her conscious eyes, } And points anew each charm, for which he dies._ }

_The muse, before nor terrible nor great, Enjoys by him this awful gilded seat: By him theatric angels mount more high, And mimick thunders shake a broader sky. Thus all must own, our author has done more For your delight, than any bard before. His thoughts are still to raise your pleasures fill'd; To write, translate, to blazon, or to build. Then take him in a lump, nor nicely pry Into small faults that 'scape a busy eye; But kindly, Sirs, consider, he to-day Finds you the house, the actors, and the play: So, tho' we stage-mechanick rules omit, You must allow it in a whole-sale wit._

Dramatis Personæ.

MEN.

Don _Alvarez_, father to _Leonora_. Mr. _Betterton._

Don _Felix_, father to _Lorenzo_. Mr. _Bright._

Don _Carlos_, in love with _Leonora_. Mr. _Booth._

Don _Lorenzo_, in love with _Leonora_. Mr. _Husbands._

_Metaphrastus_, tutor to _Camillo_. Mr. _Freeman._

_Sancho_, Servant to _Carlos_. Mr. _Dogget._

_Lopez_, servant to _Lorenzo_. Mr. _Pack._

A Bravo.

WOMEN.

_Leonora_, daughter to _Alvarez_. Mrs. _Bowman._

_Camillo_, suppos'd son to _Alvarez_. Mrs. _Harcourt._

_Isabella_, her friend. Mrs. _Porter._

_Jacinta_, servant to _Leonora_. Mrs. _Baker._

THE

MISTAKE.

+ACT+ I. +SCENE+ I.

+SCENE+, _the Street_.

_Enter ~Carlos~ and ~Sancho~._

_Car._ I Tell thee, I am satisfy'd, I'm in love enough to be suspicious of every body.

_San._ And yet methinks, Sir, you shou'd leave me out.

_Car._ It may be so; I can't tell: but I'm not at ease. If they don't make a knave, at least they will make a fool of thee.

_San._ I don't believe a word on't: but good faith, Master, your love makes somewhat of you; I don't know what 'tis; but methinks when you suspect me, you don't seem a man of half those parts I us'd to take you for. Look in my face, 'tis round and comely, not one hollow line of a villain in it: men of my fabrick don't use to be suspected for knaves; and when you take us for fools, we never take you for wise men. For my part, in this present case, I take myself to be mighty deep. A stander-by, Sir, sees more than a gamester. You are pleased to be jealous of your poor Mistress without a cause, she uses you but too well, in my humble opinion; she sees you, and talks with you, till I'm quite tir'd on't sometimes; and your rival that you are so scar'd about, forces a visit upon her about once in a fortnight.

_Car._ Alas, thou art ignorant of these affairs, he that's the civilest received is often the least car'd for: women appear warm to one, to hide a flame for another. _Lorenzo_ in short appears too compos'd of late to be a rejected lover, and the indifference he shews upon the favours I seem to receive from her, poisons the pleasure I else shou'd taste in them, and keeps me upon a perpetual rack. No----I would fain see some of his jealous transports, have him fire at the sight of me, contradict me whenever I speak, affront me wherever he meets me, challenge me, fight me----

_San._ ----Run you through the guts.

_Car._ But he's too calm, his heart's too much at ease, to leave me mine at rest.

_San._ But, Sir, you forget that there are two ways for our hearts to get at ease; when our mistresses come to be very fond of us, or we--not to care a fig for them. Now suppose upon the rebukes you know he has had, it shou'd chance to be the latter.

_Car._ Again thy ignorance appears; alas, a lover who has broke his chain, will shun the tyrant that enslaved him. Indifference never is his lot; he loves or hates for ever; and if his mistress proves another's prize, he cannot calmly see her in his arms.

_San._ For my part, Master, I am not so great a philosopher as you be, nor (thank my stars) so bitter a lover, but what I see----that I generally believe; and when _Jacinta_ tells me she loves me dearly, I have good thoughts enough of my person never to doubt the truth on't. See here the baggage comes.

_Enter ~Jacinta~ with a letter._

Hist! _Jacinta_! my dear.

_Jacin._ Who's that? Blunderbuss! Where's your Master?

_San._ Hard by.

[_Shewing him._

_Jacin._ O, Sir, I'm glad I have found you at last; I believe I have travel'd five miles after you, and could neither find you at home, nor in the walks, nor at church, nor at the opera nor----

_San._ Nor any where else, where he was not to be found: if you had look'd for him where he was, 'twas ten to one but you had met with him.

_Jacin._ I had, Jack-a-dandy!

_Car._ But pr'ythee what's the matter? Who sent you after me?

_Jacin._ One who's never well but when she sees you, I think; 'twas my Lady.

_Car._ Dear _Jacinta_, I fain would flatter myself, but am not able; the blessing's too great to be my lot: yet 'tis not well to trifle with me; how short soe'er I am in other merit, the tenderness I have for _Leonora_ claims something from her generosity. I should not be deluded.

_Jacin._ And why do you think you are? methinks she's pretty well above board with you: what must be done more to satisfy you?

_San._ Why _Lorenzo_ must hang himself, and then we are content.

_Jacin._ How! _Lorenzo_?

_San._ If less will do, he'll tell you.

_Jacin._ Why, you are not mad, Sir, are you? Jealous of him! Pray which way may this have got into your head? I took you for a man of sense before----Is this your doings, dog?

[_To ~Sancho~._

_San._ No, forsooth _Pert_, I'm not much given to suspicion, as you can tell, Mrs. _Forward_----if I were, I might find more cause I guess, than your Mistress has given our Master here. But I have so many pretty thoughts of my own person, hussy, more than I have of yours, that I stand in dread of no man.