SCENE I.

LAURA has not appeared at the window yes­terday or to-day, and my word is passed not to call at the house till she sends to me—yet I cannot get under weigh till she bids me farewell. Oh, confound it! here's Captain Vain. What damn'd shift of wind made him bring up on this coast? Now will this conceited fellow bother me for an hour or two about himself.

I see you, Cheerly. You can't hide your­self from me. I'm one who see every thing in a [Page 6]moment. You have heard what has happened to me since I went?

No, faith, I have not.

The most extraordinary thing. Always something surprizing wherever I go. For my part I really think as to myself, that—But what are you at, Cheerly? What! attempting to spy into your neighbour's cabin! Just like me, egad! I've done that often in my time, tho' it's hardly fair play, between you and I.

Vain, you know a seaman cannot act unfairly; here is a little frigate in this harbour, of which I wou'd fain take the command honor­ably; but her old uncle thinks me too poor to hold the commission.

Exactly me again. Egad! I had best give a little thought to your case myself.

I have told you where my anchor lies. Can you lend me a hand to purchase it?

Can I? I don't like to praise myself; but I am such a devilish clever fellow; it is quite astonishing—I never turn my head to a project but it succeeds—Any thing, every thing—never miss—I'am so clever. I'll tell you—What will you give me for releasing this tender, consenting girl from old Brummagem's clutches, and throw­ing her into your arms?

Give you!

Ay; what premium will you allow me on her fortune?

[Page 7]

This is not a seaman's language—I don't understand you.

Why, look you, Cheerly, I love adven­tures—I have a genius for them, and such a head at them, it's astonishing. But as this is a time of the world when a man is counted an ass if he be not paid for every thing he does, I undertake them no longer as an amateur—I have done with that—but demand my fee regularly as a professor.

Indeed!

I have adventured myself, in the service of others, into easy circumstances and genteel ac­quaintance: and if you will give me a hundred pounds, of which I happen to be just now damna­bly in want—

Hold, Vain—That's not quite so clever,—is it?

No; but that's so common a case with a genius—In short, if you are inclined to pay, I'll put you in possession of your Dulcinea.

Eh, but how? How will you carry your warps out, Master Vain?

You must not ask that.—There lies my genius—I must manage it all myself—a genius must not be meddled with.

Well, but do you know old Brumma­gem?

Know him! a fellow full of lies and igno­rance, who values you only for the number of quarters in your scutcheon, tells you long stories of [Page 8]tables and chairs having been in his family for a hundred years, which, in reality, he bought second­hand yesterday. It will be an absolute charity in you to deliver a poor girl from such a curmudgeon. And since you have engaged me in your service, you have nothing to fear. I'm sure to succeed. I wont praise myself,—but I'm so astonishingly clever—

I must at all events rescue this lovely girl. To lend a helping hand to those who are distress, is the character of our country, and British seamen have ever set the example.

SCENE II.

Come along, Dolly—Clean away.

How queer that man looks with his cudgel over his shoulder!

That's Mr. Humoursome. He is always to be on guard while the maids are in the room. Dust away!

Ah, you are like the rest. Women are always making a dust in one part of the house or the other—Get out.

My master is a sad old hunks, to be sure. He hates the plain truth as I do physic, while he will swallow, chew, and digest a parcel of bouncing fibs by the hundred, as a man wou'd count walnuts. His house is like the fine speeches of fine gentry, all conterfeit; and the furniture in it would serve for the scenery of a harlequin farce; it tumbles to pieces the mo­ment it is touched. But then these women prate so—Now they've hatched up a story about an iron cage—Shut up his niece indeed! What do they take him for? I do so hate women—I hate them all except my young mistress, because we were fostered together—I can't be expected to hate her—But I hate Selina, and I hate Dolly, tho' I never saw her before; and I hate—No, I don't hate [Page 10]Fanny—I wish I could—Well I think she'll have me: and when we're married, I dare say I shall hate her; for I know she will use me like a dog; but I cannot hate her for all that. Oh, Lord! here she comes! but I won't speak to her.

What's the matter, Ralph?

I am thinking.

And, pray, what are you thinking of?

You.

I am much obliged to you; but you had better by half think of our young mistress, who will be brought back presently to be shut up in an iron cage.

So! they are all in the same story.

'Tis a shame.

How can you talk such nonsense? What does my master want to force her to?

Marriage.

That wou'd be out of one cage into another.

Cannot we contrive to help her, Ralph? You know she cannot love a strange man whom she has never seen. Why don't you answer?

I am thinking—what I can do, not to love you.

Psha! do not be nonsensical. Don't you see what an excellent match Captain Cheerly [Page 11]will be for Miss Laura? A brave sailor who fights for his country, and whom she would marry for love! Why do not you answer again?

I am thinking—that, if you and I should be married for love, we might chance to fight for victuals.

Aye, but we'll be married for all that.

Shall we?

Yes; and you shall be so smart, you shall look like a captain. You know, as my young mistress's husband is an officer in the navy, when you and I marry, you may wear a cockade in your hat as well as any captain of them all.

Wear a cockade! I am thinking, if you and I marry,

if I shall be able to wear a hat. No, I'll never marry, I'm determin'd. I'll leave service rather than be made a fool of by the women.

I tell you we will be married.

And I tell you we won't—And I'll tell you why we won't.

Nay, but I declare—

Do but listen to me. That little tongue of yours—

Listen! Why, Lord bless me—

Will you hear me only for one minute?

Yes; but then you shall hear me for a minute afterwards.

Well, so I will. That's fair.

[Page 12]

Well—now I'm ready to listen.

Without speaking.

I give you leave to say just what you like.

Oh, leave me alone for that.

You need not fear my interrupting you, I give you my word.

Well, that's all I want.

I'll keep my word too when I've once said so.

Well, well, I believe that.

Now—I'm dumb.

That's best.

Mum! I won't open my mouth to draw my breath. Only remember—you shan't say I don't give you a fair hearing.

But you are talking now.

Nay that's monstrous, when you have been talking all this while.

I? why I am sure I have not spoke yet.

I am sure you have: and you must have talked your minute out by this time. That you have, at least; and now it's my turn.

Now, did any one ever hear such a—

Nay, I protest I will have my minute now.

Why I have not begun mine.

Keep to your bargain.

Oh! a plague of—

Nay, if you run on at this rate, I'm re­solved [Page 13]I won't stay to hear you. I won't come near you again till you have learnt to hold your tongue as I do.

Oh! a plague of these women! They are just like—

SCENE III.

So, there they go—I hear him lock her in. Well, if I had been miss Laura, I wou'd have run at once to captain Cheerly.

It's a thousand pities she's troubled with so many delica­cies—I wish Ralph was half as well inclined to me—I give him good plain hints, tho' I cannot say they have hitherto been of any service.

SCENE IV.

There! I think that settles the business. The keys are pretty safe by my side, and the door [Page 16]is pretty strong—I am still so afraid of that young sailor, that I'll set Ralph to watch. Here, Ralph!

Sir!

My good Ralph, you're very honest; and you know I'm very kind to you.

Yes, sir; you're always telling me so—

Ralph, I put you in charge of this room in my absence—Don't let any one come near that door: and if the maids come to touch any thing, drive them out.

Never fear, sir—I'll be a match for any maid in Christendom.

And hark ye, Ralph!

Yes, sir,

If sir Andrew M'Gorget should happen to come during my absence—

I'll drive him away, never fear—he shan't go near the door.

Psha! you blockhead! you must let him come, and tell him I am only gone to enquire news of him at the inn. Be sure you don't let the maids in. I had rather turn a tiger loose into my cabinet than a woman, and should be less alarmed at the roaring of the one, than the chattering of the other.

I thought it was so! He has brought home some great curiosity; the iron-grating was to keep off the mops and broomsticks, and this [Page 17]outer door to keep the dust off.

I cannot get a peep any where. What am I to do by myself here?

Here's nothing to be done.

I have no great pleasure in reading—No—or writ­ing—No—Eating? Yes, I cou'd divert myself by eating a bit of something, if—

Eh! comes just in time.

And now I think of it, I have a good mind to write a farewell letter to Fanny, that gypsey— Let's see—Yes, I'll send her a line.

Ah me!

O Lord! what's that? Here's something alive in the room—Some cu­rious wild beast, perhaps a phoenix or crocodile—

A few lines— A long letter is worse than—Pa! a rotten apple—Pha!

forced to leave you—love you—

But I say I will—Am I to have my eyes knocked out with apples?

O Lord! I have hit some one in the eye with that apple—What an unlucky dog I am! I had better get out of his way.

Hear what I tell you—If you make this disturbance, I shall lose all chance of success.

[Page 18]

I shall lose my sight. I'll search the house over till I find the old man, who shall either beg my pardon, or fight me, or give me his niece; and perhaps he'll chuse the last.

Egad he may, and then I lose my hundred pounds. I don't know how it is: I cannot hit on a project to-day. If I could see Selina, we might contrive something—Genius is so whimsical that I believe money frightens it away.

Cheerly!

Hark!

Cheerly!

That must be Laura—I'll pass for Cheerly.

My dear Laura, is it you?

Are you alone?

Here is none but my very clever friend, Captain Vain, with me. You may speak freely.

My uncle has shut me up in this room, 'till I consent to marry sir Andrew M'Gorget.

Sir Andrew M'Gorget! What! he that has been in Spain these sixteen years, and has made a great fortune there? Is he come home?

No; but he is expected every hour.

I have it—There's my genius again—I see it directly—

Good bye, Laura! I'll take care of you.

I don't like to praise myself: but I am so astonishingly clever—Let me see—Selina can fur­nish me with a dress—I have it—I'll order a coach to be ready to carry her off at a minute's warning. What a blessing to be such a clever fellow!

[Page 19]

O Lud! O Lud! it is miss Laura, sure enough, shut up in that room. Egad, if I had happen'd to be in the way when that angry captain came in with his one eye, I might have stood a chance of a couple of black ones.

Yonder's my cruel master—Now I shall hate him. I won't own a word of captain Cheerly having been here. If he asks any questions, I must fob him off with half a score bouncing stories in his own way—I don't care what I say to him now. That he shou'd be such a hard-hearted, cruel, abomi­nable—

Who were those fellows I saw lurking about? Has there been any one here?

Not a soul, sir—I must have seen them, if they had been here, sir.

You have not seen or heard any one?

Only poor miss Laura, who has been crying there, sir.

Ah, that's nothing—Girls love to shed tears.

I believe I love to shed tears too—I cannot help it when I think of poor miss Laura, my own foster-sister, shut up—in a cage like a—like a wild beast. Don't you, pray, master, don't you use her so hardly—she has not deserved it, I am sure.

[Page 20]

Stand up, stand up, lad—The women have been persuading you.

Your honor knows it is not for that; but it is so piteous to hear a poor Chris­tian creature sing in a cage like a great bird.

Well, well, Ralph, leave all that to me—You may go.

Yes, sir—But don't be so cruel to my young mistress.

Well, well.

Don't now, pray, sir—Indeed she don't deserve it—She don't indeed!

Leave that to me, I say. There, get you gone.

So, this goes well! M'Gorget is on his passage; his steward is every moment expected to meet him with the accounts of his estates. They must be rarely improved in sixteen years' nursing. I may now venture to give my prisoner a little air.

Believe how truly I implore.

Go, go. I'll never hear you more.

No, no, miss: you are best where you are, till your husband comes; and now listen to the account you are to give of your­self and family to sir Andrew, when he arrives. I can invent a story to my own credit, with any man in Christendom: but the devil of it is, I have a short memory, and cannot remember it when I have made it. Let's see—

‘Your family is de­scended from the Brummys, who came over with the Conqueror—your great grandfather was an ecclesiastic in the reign of Anne’—He was sexton to the parish of Hounslow. Remember I bury the sexton. Then, when you speak of the gold candle­sticks, remember the duke of Montault made them a present to my uncle.

They have been pretty often presented to my uncle ^*I warrant.

Sir, here's some one. Oh, poor miss Laura!

Some one! Eh, where?

Some one below stairs, where you—But you shall not keep her there, old one—

[Page 22]where you were enquiring for sir Andrew and his steward.

I'll be with them directly. Rare news, my girl! He's come, I dare say. Out of the room, sirrah! and don't let me catch you here at my return.

Barbarous uncle! How do you abuse the trust reposed in you by my poor fond parents!

FINALE.

Did you call, sir?

Quickly answer!

'Tis your man, sir.

Varlets, you deceive your master.

We shall pay for this disaster.

[Page 24]

I'm afraid the captain's caugh.

Guilty we shall all be thought.

Ring the larum, bring a light here.

Then, sir, hold me not so tight here.

Is it you? I'm strangely puzzled.

At the door I'll slily stay.

What's the wonder?

We came running at your call—

SCENE I. Apartment in BRUMMAGEM'S House.

The deuce take that door and the iron grating! I must even give the note again to Selina.

Hark ye, Ralph! will you take a letter for me into miss Laura's room with her breakfast?

No.

Will you carry a message into the room to her?

No.

And why not, you ill-natured creature?

I am not ill-natured—I have a reason.

And pray, what is it?

Because I'm not going into the room, and nobody is going into the room but my master himself.

Then now I'm sure he means to starve her. Cou'd not we contrive to make him carry this note himself?

Psha! Psha! Impossible! Observe, I [Page 26]don't advise you to fold the note smaller, and put it under the tea-pot.

Oh, there's a dear Ralph.

Away! here is my master.

When my master places such a confidence in me as to send me into the room—

Oh! I shall not do that neither. Give me the waiter.

Sha'n't I take it in, sir?

You want to take in your master, knave.

Watch that no one comes into the house while I am here.

No—but I'll let somebody out of the house while you are here. I'm determined—I must set her free—it breaks my heart. The old one is a little near-sighted, and can't see without spectacles, and is not very quick of hearing—I think I know a trick that wou'd do it. I must make some amends to captain Cheerly for knock­ing his eye out; but the worst of it is, I can't do without the women.

Do, my dear Ralph,—there is a good creature.

[Page 27]

There is never mischief a-foot, but a woman pops her head in—It is like raising the devil by talking of sin. Is it honest, Fanny, to impose on one's master?

Honest! Can he expect honesty, who sets so bad an example to his own family? Do you think it is honest to shut up a poor girl, and force her either to starve or marry?

Indeed I don't know which is worse. Away then with me, Fanny, down stairs, and I'll tell you all about it. We'll see our young mistress married and merry, and then we'll be married our­selves. I see there is no helping it—It is what we must all come to.

I'm master, and rule house and table.

I'm mistress, and you may rule me if you're able.

Who master,

Who mistress,

I'll make you jealous, and romp with the petticoats.

I'll kiss the fellows, and flirt with the pretty coats.

I'll not submit to it,

Yes, you'll submit to it,

SCENE II. LAURA'S Apartment—The iron Grate seen before the Door.

Taste this tea, my dear—it was a present from the reigning emperor of China to an officer who attended our last embassy.

Indeed, sir, I cannot touch a drop—Your severity to me breaks my heart.

[Page 29]

None of these airs! What will your looks be come to by the time your husband, sir Andrew, arrives? You are as white as paper already—Come, eat a little bit, and I'll give you some of the finest rouge from Paris: and you shall tell sir Andrew, it is all a natural bloom got by walking in the park.

Do you think, sir, I can debase myself to utter such falsehoods? The obedience I owe to the authority invested in you by my parents, may require the sacrifice of my will, but not of my veracity.

Psha! Psha! these are only little poetical embellishments. M'Gorget will never suspect you hate him: and you know, when you are once lady M'Gorget, it is all safe and well. Come now, my deary, eat

Nay, nay, come then, some tea first

Eh! Oh ho! Oh, you little devil! This is your want of appetite? You wanted me out of the room— You cou'dn't eat—I warrant you cou'd have eat me for staying so long.

Dear sir, that's—that's nothing but a paper to keep the heat from spoiling the tea­board —Nothing else.

Spoiling the tea-board! Yes, yes, we'll see that.

‘Captain Vain has promised to bring you to me within the course of the day— he wou'dn't communicate his scheme, but says he is certain he can contrive it. Be prepared to [Page 30]assist him, and to give your hand to’—I have a mind to put irons on your hands, and to fasten you to the ground, if it wou'dn't hurt their colour. That varlet, Ralph, must have had a hand in this; but I'll after him, and turn him out of doors in a minute.

What scheme can Vain have contrived? Be what it may, I will be prepared to assist it, since my guardian's cruelty leaves me no other hope of happiness.

SCENE—The street before BRUMMAGEM's House.

Come, come along, my lads! heave a­head. Three cheers under my mistress's window, and then away.

What! slack in stays! Why, do you think Cheerly prefers his mistress to his duty? No, no, my lads! My country;s service—you rewarded, —and then my love. Ah! cou'd but my dear little girl and I be lash'd alongside each other before we part I shou'd be content. Vain has engaged [Page 31]that I shall have her; but as he will not tell me his scheme, his conceit makes him unfit to be relied on. But hope is the string that rides a sailor's heart—So, heave a-head, my lads—One farewell at the window, and if the wind comes about a point to-morrow, we'll weigh, and then for Arethusa's glory.

SCENE IV. Apartment, with the Door that covers the Iron grating.

I'm glad I've got rid of that simpleton, Ralph. He was a good servant enough while his mouth was shut; but he never opened it, except to eat or to speak the truth,—two abominable qualities.—I shall do better without him—I could never have taught [Page 33]him to tell a lie with a good grace: and that's all in all.

Well, is Ralph gone out of the house?

Yes, sir; he went directly. There is a person who says he is a steward to Mr. Morget or Gorget, or some such name.

How little she knows of a grandee! M'Gorget, you blockhead.—Shew the steward up.

That's lucky enough. Now I can tell the stew­ard a few anecdotes to serve my own ends, and perhaps make friends of him before his master ar­rives. What airs he gives himself on the stairs! He seems confoundedly important—damn'd proud! O, that's a good sign—He is rich as Croesus, I dare say.

Your servant, sir.

Sir, your most obedient, most devoted, most obsequious servant.

They told me you had been at the inn to ask for me—My lord, sir Andrew, I hear, intends to make a gentlewoman of your niece.

I hope, sir, he will find she is the daughter of a gentleman.

Oh yes, they told me you were a gentle­man's family—Brummagem, I believe.

Yes, sir, my name is Brummagem— [Page 34]How saucy these rich fellows are! Yes, sir. My friend, M'Gorget—I'll be a little familiar too.

Sir Andrew M'Gorget you mean, sir— My master does not like to be called Mac.

Must be very rich, to be sure— I begin to feel great respect for him.

The case I understand to be—Brumma­gem—

Would you be pleas'd to take a cup of chocolate, sir?

Yes—go fetch it.

No, I will send for it at least—Fanny, bring chocolate.

I must give myself a few airs—I am sorry you have only a female to wait on you at present.

I have been obliged to send away an impudent varlet this morning, whom i could not keep in the house for his vile love of lying—never could speak the truth; but, poor fellow! I am so good to them all, that I dare say he'll soon be back again.

Ay, before you think of it, old rogue.

Pho! this is too hot, it burns my mouth.

It may be a little too hot; but this, sir, is some of the most extraordinary chocolate that, I suppose, was ever fabricated. This is the vanilla [Page 35]triloba toxicodendra. This absolutely comes from the magazine of the first chocolate-maker in China, and has been in my house these nine years.

I fetch'd it myself from the chand­ler's shop this morning.

Sir, there's a gentleman come—

What's the matter with the girl? Take breath.

I ran up stairs, sir, to tell you—I believe he was not expected so soon, sir. Sir Andrew M'Gorget is come.

How! the deuce! Sir Andrew come!

Oh Lord! I'll run to receive him—

Where is he?

Just coming in at the court-gate.

Here, come along, Mr. What's-your-name? —I'll go before you—I'll be the first to re­ceive sir Andrew.

Oh the devil! how shall I ever get out of this room again? I may save myself the trouble of thinking about it, because I shall be sure to be kick'd out.

Boy, take my sombrero!

[Page 36]

Those great hats must be very fatiguing in a long journey, sir Andrew.

To my pages they may be—it is their bu­sinss to be fatigued. No grandee in Spain, where I have been, ever takes any fatigue.

What a blessed country!

You seem to be studying my dress. I imagine it surprizes you in this country.—

I hope he does not suspect that Selina pilfered it from his own museum.

I protest, sir Andrew, I don't know you in it.

No, I trust not.—I don't wonder at that, Mr. Brummagem. The alteration it makes is astonishing. This is the exact dress of the noble Spaniards.

Ay, I have one which descended into my possession by means of a great uncle of mine who lived in Spain, and had it presented to him by the queen at a bull-fight—But I thought at present the mode was altered.

Not with the grandees. They are obliged indeed by the laws to have other cloaths; but they wear them by proxy.

Proxy!

We nobles in Spain do every thing by proxy. For instance now, you think I carry no flaps to my coat, no pockets.

I see none.

Moziganga!

[Page 37]

Here, sir.

Flaminy nosamo.

Brixemarti!

Here, sir.

Tobacco my nosamo.

There, my dear friend—You see that is carrying things in my pocket by proxy—

May you live a thousand years!

Eh!

Excuse me: that's a common phrase in Spain—It means, bless you, or thank you. But speaking of the grandees of Spain, every thing, as I said, is by proxy—They receive and pay visits by proxy, and in short, perform most of the duties of society by proxy.

Give me leave to ask one question.

Live a thousand years. Pray ask me, sir.

Do they eat and drink by proxy?

Not absolutely. But, my dear friend, [Page 38]how is your charming niece? Who is this gen­tleman? Probably one of your friends?

So! now I shall be finely blown.

Odso! I forgot to mention to you, that your steward was arrived. The joy of seeing you quite put him out of my head.

My steward!

Aye, don't you see him? Yonder he is.

Yes, yes, I see him.—

I see I'm got into a pretty scrape.

This impudent steward takes no notice of his master.

Mr. Brummagem!

Well, what do you say?

Does my master know that I am here?

To be sure he does—I told him so just now. Don't you speak to sir Andrew?

Per­haps sir Andrew may not be at leisure to be spoken to at present.

He is mighty humble at once. I suppose these grandees of Spain claim the privilege of speaking first.

Brummagem!

Sir Andrew!

Does my steward know that I am come?

[Page 39]

I believe he has not seen you; but what is his name? I'll call him to you.

Plaguy-mi-damnamo.

That's a damn'd odd name. Wo'n't you be pleas'd to let Plaguy-mi-damnamo approach you?

No, by no means.

Oh! I suppose he wo'n't speak to him ex­cept by proxy. Would you wish I should say any thing to him for you, to save you the fatigue of speaking?

Dismiss him, and bid him wait for me at the inn.

Plaguy-mi-dam­namo, sir Andrew will let you approach him at the inn, and not at this house.

So! I see he wo'n't even look at the steward except by proxy.

That's well got rid of. That's my genius!

But come, let us think of your charming niece—there is no time to be lost— Have you settled the day and manner of the nuptials?

As early a day as you please.

To-day, if possible; and the ceremonials public.

With all my heart. In what manner will you take her to church?

By proxy.

[Page 40]

What! my niece by proxy?

Yes; in a chariot and four able horses, which shall be furnished from my own set, and two of my grooms on their backs.—

By this means Cheerly may carry her clear off before any alarm can be raised.

Well, sir Andrew, if this is your plea­sure, I shall certainly—

Live a thousand years!

By proxy, I may, to be sure. If you please, sir, we'll step in, and see my niece; she's a little tired with a long walk she has been taking in the fields,—I mean the park,—and looks a little palish.

Bless me, my dear friend, you are very cautious!

Why, the trouble of watching a young girl every minute is rather too much for an old man; so I employ these two proxies.

But are you sure of what you say of cap­tain Vain?

Main sure: I seed him talking with Mrs. Seliny.

It is he, sure enough; so at last I know what these two keys belong to.

Oh, a plague! this fellow again!

How do you presume to come back, sir, in defiance of the will of your master, which I de­livered as his proxy?

[Page 41]

Why, sir, do you take this for sir An­drew?

So! now, if my genius deserts me—

You are imposed on.

How! imposed on! What! are not you sir Andrew M'Gorget?

Certainly, sir.

You my dear lord, the grandee, sir Andrew?—Pray, sir,

ask him what town sir Andrew lived at in Spain.—

It is best to be before-hand with him in these questions.

Ay, very true; what town did you live at in Spain?

The town, sir? Why, the town, sir—Oh, the town! Why, Barcelona, to be sure.

There, sir!—Was that the town?

Why, yes, to be sure, Barcelona was the town.

The devil, it was! Let him an­swer in what ship he took his passage home.

Oh, all is safe! Let him answer that.

I see this fellow must go snacks with me.—Give me leave, Brummagem.—Hark ye, steward!

I have a purpose to answer in passing for your master at present.—If you will go halves with me in a hundred pounds, you may.

Not I indeed!—

I dare say you have a purpose.

Now for heaven's sake—

[Page 42]

I go shares with you!

Fifty pounds!

Leave the house directly, or—

Sixty!

I'll let Mr. Brummagem know,

A hundred!

That you are—

The devil!

You may be, for aught I know—

Mercy on me! What is all this?

A plague of this unseasonable interrup­tion! there is nothing left but decamping. Mr. Brummagem, you'll excuse me—I'll take another opportunity.—Damn it! my genius has failed me.

I have a great mind to let Mr. Brummagem know who you are.

Who is he? In the name of wonder, who is the dog?

His name is Vain.

What! captain Vain? an impudent scoundrel!

To think of imposing on you!

With his "Live a thousand years!"

A vulgar fellow! when no gentleman in Spain ever wishes you to live less than ten thousand at least.

I begin to enjoy it now the danger's over. It will make a curious anecdote in my life —

with proper embellishments.

[Page 43]

It reminds me of a singular circumstance that sir Andrew sends me an account of in his last letter.

Ay; what was that?

Why—but I keep you standing.

Pray, Brummy, no ceremonies.

Egad, I see you use none.

Sir Andrew gives an account—I believe I have the letter in my pocket.

Ah! let me hear all that sir Andrew says—

"A young man of this place"—

Where is it dated? From Barcelona, Eh?

It is lucky that I happen to know that—Oh, from Barcelona, certainly.—But why need I read? I'll tell it you—A young man was desperate­ly in love with a girl of good fortune; and the father denied his consent, and wanted to marry her against her inclinations.

More fool he. Well!

Wherefore they laid a scheme to join the young people's hands, under the father's nose.

Ah! and how did they manage it?

One day the old man comes home as usual, with a hat as large

aye, larger than yours,

and [Page 44]seeing some strangers coming about the house, takes up his cane, that he always carried as you do,

This is a gold head.

Oh, the purest gold of Spain. It was given to my grandfather, by the—

Ay, no matter: I thought as much. Well, he takes his cane, and runs to his coffers where he kept his money; for sir Andrew says he did not suspect the design on his daughter.

Oh! a simpleton.

Quite a fool! Now his money was all fast secured under two stout keys such as these;

and forth he sets to beat the rogues from his coffers.

Well, well.

In the mean time, while he was busy at his coffers, a maid servant, coming behind his back,

takes the keys, goes to her young mistress's door, opens it, lets the young lady know that her lover was waiting in the next room with a clergyman to marry them before they left the house.

Well, there was some decency in the young folks at least.

Oh! sir Andrew says he was a most ex­cellent young man.

But suppose, now, the father had happened to meet the maid on this errand

—what do you want here, hussey?

I came to see if you would have the cho­colate-cup taken away, sir.

Oh, very well—Ay, by all means. This is some of the finest china that—

But I say, my dear friend,

suppose he had met the maid.

Why, that would have been unlucky, to be sure—But, as it happen'd, he never suspected her.

Well, and so—

The young lady was all in readiness to sly to her lover, but so overcome with fear, that she durst not venture to leave the room; upon which, her lover—

goes to her room to encourage—

So far all is safe.

Oh, oh, my dear friend, but what!—All this happen before the father's face!

No, no, Brummy: you misunderstand me. They went behind the father's back.

Egad, it is lucky the old gentleman didn't turn his head round. What a pretty kettle of fish there wou'd have been!

Oh, but then—Aye, very true—I had forgot to tell you one circumstance. This scheme was managed by a rogue of a servant who played the old fool the most ludicrous trick—I cannot help laughing when I think of it—

[Page 46]I'll shew you how they contriv'd it.

By all means. It's a good story, I dare say.

Excellent! I'll shew you. Well, now, you shall suppose I am this rogue of a servant.

Good.

And that you are the fool of a father.

With all my heart.

Now I take your large hat—such a one, we'll suppose, as this

or larger, and I clap it entirely over your face.

Now turn your head about, first on one side, then on the other side. What do you see?

Nothing, to be sure.

Well, while I keep this hat close over your eyes, forth comes the whole procession—first the maid servant with a bundle of her mistress's cloaths;

Ay, very good.

Then the lover, supporting the poor frighten'd damsel;

Ay, very good.

And lastly she herself, as anxious to escape as a prisoner for life from his prison, but trembling with fear lest her father should hear her; for if he had, you know—

Ha, ha, ha! You know—

[Page 47]

Ha, ha!

Very true; I comprehend you—How their hearts must have leapt when they got clear off!

Ay—and when their hands were in­stantly joined by the clergyman in the next room.

A rare story indeed! And very rarely contrived! Not like poor captain Vain's, with his fool's coat, and his thousand years.

No; 'twas managed by a much cleverer fellow. You may take off the hat—the story's over.

And where did this happen?

In Devonshire.

In Devonshire! Why, you said it was in Spain.

Aye, Devonshire in Spain.

And what sort of an ass is the old man?

Much such another as yourself.

As me?

His name's Brummagem.

That's my name.

The same—Brummagem of Brumma­gem Hall.

Why, that's me.

Yes, it is you; and the rogue of a ser­vant is—me.

Oh, you wicked, rascally—

Nay, you said yourself it was a good story; and I am sure it has answered a very good purpose—Ha, ha, ha!—

[Page 48]

Eh! How! Why, is it possible? Oh! my niece is fled—Hollo! Fanny! Selina!

FINALE.

What! are you wed?

What arms does Cheerly bear?

Dear sir, a trembling bride forgive, &c.

Dear sir, your faithful slaves forgive:

For titles wedded, or for love, &c.