Why, you jade. what do you prate at?—Isn't Saint Monday, and are not the club waiting for me?

The club!—Yes, indeed, you need squan­der your substance among a parcel of raggamuffins, 'till you bring yourself, and your poor wife, to a jail.

Why, you impudent vixen, are Master Muggins, Joey Jenkins, and Gaffer Grumble, rag­gamuffins? Is the pimple-nos'd Exciseman a ragga­muffin? or are little Hone the barber, Lawyer Pest, and Mr. Confusion, the surgeon, raggamuffins? But I don't know what's come to you, since you have had the credit of being a tradesman's wife!

O yes, great credit to be sure. Don't Mrs. Marmalade, the 'Squire's house-keeper, and every one of the other gentlefolks that I am ac­quainted with, turn up their noses; and don't they cry, only think that such a comely young woman, and one that has been so genteelly edicated, should throw herself away upon such a fellow as Snob, the cobler? But 'tis always your way: You don't know how soon Mr. Nipikin, our landlord—

Ha, ha, ha.

What's the matter with you?

Ha, ha, ha. I can't help laughing if I was to die for it: To think of the old fool going about talking of his consequence, and smirking at every girl he sees.

O, as to that, if report does not belie her, old Madam Nipikin is as fond of smirking after the fellows as he is after the girls: But, as I was saying, you don't know how soon he may take away the little we have.

You are always dinning that in my ears, as if it was through my misconduct, that we are in such distress.

Why will you face me down, that it is not through your misconduct? Are not all my misfor­tunes owing to you? Did not you come down into the country, when I was in my first place, and pre­tended that you were a young gentleman run away for killing your friend in a duel?—And did not I, because the butler was my sweetheart, contrive to get you into the house?—Did not you persuade me to get a key to the pantry? And was not I, upon your account, turn'd away—Oh, that I had never seen your bewitching face!

Well, well, but Alice—

And afterwards when I liv'd at the 'Squire's, at the same time you offered to take your oath that you lov'd nobody but me; had not you a child by the blind fidler's daughter? and was not I fool enough to give a year's wages to make the matter up.

Alice, I tell you—

But henceforward, sooner will I believe that a room can be clean without being swept; that brasses will look bright without being scoured; or that butter will come when the witch is in the churn; than that truth or constancy can be found in man!

SCENE II.

The jade has suffered a devilish deal, that's the truth on't; and one way or other my circumstances are in a blessed way. If my Master Nipikin should seize my goods, as he swore last night he would, 'tis all over with us—Well, 'tis to be hoped something else will turn up—This is now about my twelfth meta­morphosis; and, faith, I should be very sorry to throw it off; for I have tasted more satisfaction under the habit of a cobler, than I ever did in any of my other characters, though a soldier, a mountebank, an ex­ciseman, and an itinerant preacher, were among the number.

SCENE III.

How I am us'd, and after behaving to him as I do!—He does not deserve such a true and faithful wife; for I am sure, though I have never mentioned a word of it, that Mr. Nipikin has been trying a whole twelvemonth to make me bad, and I have always given him his own with a witness: And as for Dick Froth, the tapster, if I'd go off with him, I am sure he'd love me for ever; and every body knows that Dick, on account of his town-edi­cation, is the gayest young fellow in these parts: I don't mind being poor a bit, if I could but be us'd kind.—I have it: Dick's mistress, Madam Nipikin, is as fond of him as the old fool, his master, is of me; and so—but here he comes.—Your servant, Mr. Rich­ard; what have you done with my husband?

Why he is fairly set in with his guzzling companions; and so I thought I could not take a more properer time, than while you are left like a tur­kle here alone, to shew you the difference between him who deserts you, and him who would wish to de­serve you—was not that very prettily said of me?

Indeed, Mr. Richard, I don't understand being affronted so. I told you, you know, the last time you talked to me in this manner, that I'd tell my husband.

Oh, my dear, I have been too much among the Bucks de Sprits of the age to mind hus­bands; besides, my dear, what you drink with your meals, need not hinder you from having a cordial privately in your closet—Prettily said again.

I'll be even with you for all this impu­dence.—Well, Mr. Richard, you are so smart, and so clever; where the duce did you get all these win­ning ways?

I dont know, my dear, they came natu­rally to me: Take pity on me, for stamp my vitals, as my Lord Huntingdon says in the play, if I en't immensely in love with you.

How can that be, when your mistress—

What, you are jealous of her?—Don't name the old frightful Jezebel;—why I only say a few civil things to her now and then, that I may be able to sport this appearance.

And have you endur'd so much as you say upon my account?

Endur'd! why, my dear, I have endur'd more than would kill ten horses; what with your cruelty, and the drudgery of making love to my mis­tress, I have endur'd more than ever Cannibal did, when he pass'd over the what-you-call-'ems, the frosty mountains to fight Skippio.

And what would you say, if I was to be kinder?

Say!—that—that—lord, I don't know what I should say.

Well, if you'll promise to do as I would have you, I don't know but I may.

Raptures and Paradise!

You must favour the old woman, and get what money you can from her; I'll do the same by your master, and then when we have got a pretty good sum together, we'll march off, and let them find us where they can.

What a devillish deal of wit you have—Well, I'll go about it directly—Bless you, I can wheedle her out of any thing—I say what a charming [Page 9] scheme 'twill be—I'll take care and have it put in all the papers. How prettily it will sound: ‘"Last week eloped from her husband, Mrs. Alicia Snob, in company with a genteel young man, one Richard Froth, a tapster at the Black Ram, in the village of Guzzlewell; the reason of her committing this rash action is not known."’—Adieu, I'll soon bring you some of the old woman's cash.

SCENE IV.

With this money, and what I can wheedle from the old man, will I settle Snob's affairs; and who knows, when he finds I have done so kindly by him, but he'll repent of his follies, and behave bet­ter to me for the future. But suppose he does not—I must bear it as well as I can—for though I am not very wise, I have sense enough to know, that a woman who can consent to be wicked to revenge herself upon her husband, only takes a thorn out of her finger, to place it in her heart.

SCENE V.

Well, now is every thing going as I would have it; are the company in the one, the two, the three, and the five, satisfied; do they say they have no reason to complain?

Yes, yes, Sir, all satisfied. The com­pany up stairs, who you know are always pleased, if there is any thing to be pleased at, are as merry; lord! they are laughing ready to split their sides; those below, indeed, look a little serious and wise; but to say the truth, they are generally such a pack of—

Hush, you young dog, hush! you don't con­sider that every thing must be recommended to them before it will get a good name abroad—What do they say who come in carriages?

Oh, they are as good-natur'd as usual. You have nothing to do but to set Worcestershire Perry before them, and call it Champaigne.

I won't suffer you to say these things before me, Mr. Richard: You don't consider, that to the guests, who frequent this house, I owe all I have in the world; and are under the same obligation to them all, from the club-room, where they call for twelve-penny worth of punch, to the best parlour, where they give five shillings for a bottle of Claret—But I must not stand idling here—See if your mistress has seen after the things—Coming, coming, there!

SCENE VI.

Mr. President, what you said last, is very true; if the people of this kingdom were but a little more regular in their manners, there would not be so much confusion as there is.

Come, let us knock down order, and proceed in the most promiscuous manner imaginable.

Mr. President, my service to you—And, Master Muggins, as to what you was mentioning just now, about the little thing I have to sell, there is not a prettier bit of horse flesh—

Why, Sir,

I was call'd in too late, without doubt, but it was as good a cure—

How was the patient af­fected, Sir?

Why, Sir, the contusion on his head had perforated the internal membrane of the occiput, and devilicated that radical small minute invisible nerve.

Damn your invisible nerve!—drink about.

Why, Sir, if you ask my sentiments, I should advise to bring an action of trover:

Pray, Lawyer Pest, what may that same trover be?

How, trot fourteen miles and a half in an hour, and but twelve hands and a half high?

And so, Sir, after a copious and plentiful phlebotamy, which—

The court, you see, having or­dered the things to be restor'd—

Why, at Nettle-down race, there were four fillies—

The heirs in tail—

And of all the compound frac­tures I ever saw—

Why, I tell you, this horse—

His pulse—

The judge—

And for a mane and tail—

What a cure!

He was lacerated—

No jury alive—

The best farrier—

I'll never go to law then—

Fine paces—

Come, come, knock down silence—and knock down our honest neighbour Snob for a song.

No, no, I'll tell you what we'll do; we'll sing our last new catch and glee.

So we will, and then we'll go home.

SCENE VII.

Now being quite sober, and in my perfect senses, let me reflect a little about my affairs—What shall I do to extricate myself?—Suppose I strike up to old Mother Nipikin—that's the mark! Stay—stay, here she comes! I'll listen and here what sort of a humour she is in.

Well, surely, nothing can be a more simpler contract, than for a woman of my prudence and virtue, to place her infections upon a rattle-pated boy! If we like a man, the lightest hint sophisticates, whereas a boy proposes upon us.

Madam, your humble servant. As to what you was a saying of a woman of your age and pru­dence, fixing your affections upon a boy, I agree with you, that it is a damn'd foolish thing; we are all so­phisticated, as you call it, at one time or another, by love. For instance now, you are as ugly, and as old as any gentlewoman need to be, yet I don't know how it is, I am stark mad in love with you, and can think of nothing else.

Is the man mad?

Why, don't I tell you I am—I am in love with you, and do you want a better proof of it?

How dare you?

Why to be sure, one had need of a little re­solution—And yet now when you hide your face, you are not so disagreeable.

Why, you villain!

Don't be in a passion.

To affront the wife of a man, who has requir'd such a fortune!

Now don't spoil that sweet face of your's; I tell you, I have been in love with you a great while, though I never spoke of it before; I think of you from morning till night, and dream of you from night till morning; and when I sit in my stall, and reflect upon your beauty, and my unworthiness, I leave off whistling and fall a crying—She comes to—

Why you surprize me, Mr. Snob!

Why, Lord love you, I am surprised my­self! but it is true, you are never out of my mind; you have more charms and graces than there are stitches in a shoe! and if you don't take compassion on me, I'll snatch up one of my own awls, and make an end of myself!

Oh, I would not for the world have you kill yourself upon my account.

Take me then to your arms!

O fye!

Nay, dear beautiful angel!

How can you!

Nectar and Ambrosia!

SCENE VIII.

Have done, you wicked creature!

Oh extasy!—rapture!—inexpressible!—

Ah.

Zounds! what d'ye squall for?

Don't you see my husband?—Oh, my dear Mr. Nipikin, I am glad you are come!

What's the matter, my love?

I was but clearing away the things, and this druken fellow, who hid himself in a corner to rob the house, I suppose, seized upon me.

Here's a devil for you!—now I shall settle my affairs with a vengeance!

Why, how dare you to attempt to behave in this scandalous manner to a woman of Mrs. Nipikin's consequence? Why, you must be the most brazen-fronted villain—

Fronted! who's affronted? I an't.

To be serv'd so, 'tis a shame!

Madam, if I said any thing to offend your delicacy—I give umbrage!—What can any man say more?—I—give—umbrage.

Go, you drunken, senseless villain! I'll punish you! you shan't be my tenant a day longer!—His wife us'd me like a vixen the last time I saw her—and to-morrow morning I'll as surely seize upon all your goods!—If the impudent jade had but given me one smile!

Mr. Snob, why will you stay from me so? I was afraid some accident had happened to you.

Why, my dear, there was a trifling one.

What's the matter?

SCENE I.

HERE it is!—Here's the inventory of the scoundrel's goods! Pest and I have taken care of him.

‘"Inventory of the goods and chattels of Crispin Snob, the cobler, of Guzzlewell. Impri­mis: Four joint stools, one of them with but two legs. Item: A large wainscot dining-table, wanting only one leaf. Item: A piece of tapestry hanging made use of to keep out the cold where the wall was broken down, with a curious story wrought on it, Juno lecturing Jupiter about his amours, the Jupiter perfect all but his thunder, which seems by some mistake to be in the hands of Juno."’

We'll have it fram'd, husband, and hang it under the stag's horns in the great hall.

‘ "Item: A large book, bought at an auction out of Sir Michael Minikin's house; containing above three hundred and seventy prints of ma­caroni gentlemen and ladies, out of Mr. Darley's collection."’

We'll have them pasted upon a lemon ground, all the way upon our stair case.

‘ Item: A black window curtain, formerly a pall belonging to Mr. Shroud, the undertaker.— Item—’

Sir, Mr. Pest is asking for you.

Very well, I'll come to him directly—I'll hamper him, I'll teach him to behave ill to people of consequence.

SCENE II.

Well, Sir, now I think you have pretty well done for yourself.

Don't oppress the fallen, good wife; but who the devil could have thought that this old thief—

Why I thought it, and I told you of it, but my comfort is, that it is owing to no fault of mine; I have taken care enough to discharge the duty of a wife, for I am sure there has not been one breakfast, dinner, or supper, for this twelve-month past, that I have not told you of a hundred and fifty faults, and all to no purpose.

Prithee, prithee, don't upbraid me; what's to be done?

I suppose I should get no thanks if I was to tell you.

You tell me!

Ay, I tell you: I have it in my power to make all well again. But what signifies getting you out of one hobble, when you would directly get into another.

Ay, I wish it depended upon that.

It does then; and if you'll promise to love me, and nobody else; to stay at home and mind your business for the future, I'll tell you how.

I'll not only promise all thou hast ask'd, but perform it, which is better.

Well, get behind that skreen, where you shall witness for me, that I have told you nothing but truth.

SCENE III.

Ah, my sweet fragrant flower of beauty!—here I come! here's the money!—If I could but have slid down through the tiles of the house, I should have been a perfect Job in a shower of gold.

So, so.

Well, did you wheedle her nicely for me?

Who, the old woman? There are twenty guineas in that purse, and if they were all chang'd into farthings you would not have as many pieces of money, as I swore oaths and told lyes to get it.

And are not you afraid to trust it to my care?

My dear, if it was the treasure of Prue and Mixico, I'd lay them at your feet—But I have not a moment to stay; I only call'd to bring you the money—Take it, my master had just given it her to pay the brewer.

Well, and when shall we go off?

'Twould be a pity to leave her yet, she is in a devil of a generous humour—let us get all we can.

Why, indeed, I should wish to decamp like ourselves.

Oh! 'twill make a monstrous eclat, never fear it. Adieu—my life—my soul—

SCENE IV.

Your servant, Master Froth—But, Alice, how came I not to know of this before?

Because it would have made you uneasy, and I thought I could not have a better opportunity than this; for while I expose him, I do you service.

Come thou to my arms then; and thou to my pocket—Oh! how I long to be reveng'd upon the old woman.

There is more revenge in your power yet.

Ay!

What would you say if I should expose the old fellow in the same manner?

I'd hold thee up as a pattern for all wives—there should be nothing thou couldst ask but I'd grant.

I hear him coming, begone!

SCENE V.

What shall I do?—The wicked man to run away, and leave such a good wife.

Run away!

Well said, Alice.

I shall never be looked upon again—but it serves me right—Fool as I was to affront poor Mr. Nipikin!

Poor Mr. Nipikin! Oh, Hoh!

But I am always blind to my own interest, if I had not, I should have seen the difference; he's so smart, and so tender!

I see she'll hear reason now.

And then his person is so agreeable!

She would not believe me, when I told her all his.

So engaging!

Yes, yes, 'tis plain she has seen her error.

But what signifies all these things now? He used to admire me to be sure; but now, how can I expect he'll cast away a look upon such a poor for­lorn creature as I am?

I can't bear this!—Behold him here as much your admirer as ever!

Indeed, Sir, you don't know how cruelly I have been us'd?

Ah, I don't doubt it! the villain! what he is run away, is he?

Yes, Sir.

The scoundrel! and he us'd to beat you, did he?

Black and blue, Sir.

Such a sweet creature too! Oh, the hard hearted! What, and—and call you names?

Every thing but Gentlewoman, Sir.

What people there are in the world? Well, you are quite sensible that you have been to blame, I suppose?

Quite, Sir.

I am glad to hear it? And if I was to be kind to you, you'd be grateful?

Indeed, Sir, I would: And since you en­courage me, I'll tell you what I have been thinking of.

Well.

That if you'd overlook all the ill usage you have receiv'd from me, and give me a sort of release for all my husband owes you, he'd come back again; for I have reason to believe he is not far off, and then every Monday night when he went to the club—

I could come and see you.

Yes, Sir.

Adad, thou hast made me the happiest man in the world! And wilt thou be kind?

I can hold no longer!

there—there it is! I make thee a present of it, red Morocco pocket-book, silver-clasps and all.

And I, as in duty bound, give it to my husband.

Oh, the devil, he here!

SCENE the last.

And she here! now I'm in a pretty pickle indeed!

Madam, I don't know what your business is with your husband, but you are come in excellent time to give him a lecture for making love to my wife.

And this is the return for all the in­tention I have shewn you? but I am perfectly ma­nur'd to ill-treatment.

Come, hang it, we must not let her carry it off so.—Master Nipikin, ask her what she did with the twenty pounds you gave her to pay the brewer?

How's this!

Why, what did I do with it?

You gave it to your lover, Mr. Richard Froth, who gave it to me.

What d'ye mean?

I'll explain.

We have now nothing to do, I think, my dear, but to thank you, Sir, for releasing us out of all our troubles; and you, Ma'am, for giving us money to set up afresh.

The whole of one accusation, to my shame, I confess.

And I own I cannot deny one particle of the other.

I need not then advise you to be friends, because one is as much to blame as the other. As to the money, take it, Alice, do with it what you please. Henceforward I'll be guided by you; and if my neighbours ask me, why I am so happy, when they hear me sing, as I work in my stall, I'll tell them, 'tis because I have A WIFE OF TEN THOU­SAND.