The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Contrast, by Royall Tyler

Published：2026-07-31 06:57:40 Source: rag dolls for 9 year olds under 100 dollars Author: About Factory

Produced by Judith Boss

The gift fine motor toys for 5 year oldsContrast

by

Royall Tyler

A Comedy

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THOMAS J. McKEE

INTRODUCTION.

THE 'Contrast' was the first American play ever performed in public bya company of professional actors. Several plays by native authors hadbeen previously published, the more noteworthy being the 'Prince ofParthia,' a tragedy by Thomas Godfrey of Philadelphia, which wasprobably written, and was offered to Hallam's company in 1759 (but notproduced), and was printed in 1765, two years after the author'sdeath.[1]

A comedy called the 'Mercenary Match,' by one Barnabas Bidwell, is saidto have been performed by the students at Yale College, under theauspices of the Rev. Dr. Ezra Styles, President of the College. Dunlapspeaks of having heard it read, but does not mention whether it wasfrom a manuscript or printed copy. It was printed at New Haven in1785. The 'Contrast,' however, was the first to meet successfully thecritical judgment and approval of a professional manager. This factalone should redeem it from the neglect and inattention it hasheretofore met with. Besides, it possesses considerable intrinsicmerit, and as an acting play will compare favorably with many of theEnglish comedies of the period; and though, perhaps, meager in plot andincident, it is bright, humorous, and natural; the dialogue issparkling with genuine wit; and its satire aimed at the evils andfollies of the time is keen and incisive. The contrast between theplain and simple honesty of purpose and breeding of our American homelife and the tinseled though polished hypocrisy and knavery of foreignfashionable society is finely delineated, and no doubt suggested thename of the play. Thoroughly natural in its plan and characters, itwas a bold venture of a young writer in a new literary domain.

The character of Jonathan is a thoroughly original conception; nothingof the typical Yankee, since so familiar and popular, had as yetappeared, either on the stage or in print.

The 'Contrast' was first performed[2] at the John Street Theater,New-York City, on the 16th of April, 1787, and undoubtedly met with theapproval of the public, as it was repeated on the 18th of April, the 2dand 12th of May the same season, and was reproduced with success laterat Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Boston. It was, as far as can belearned, the first literary effort of its author, a most remarkablegenius, and one of the pioneers in several branches of our literature,who, up to within a few weeks of its production, had never attended atheatrical performance.

Royall Tyler, the author of the 'Contrast,' was born at Boston, Mass.,July 18, 1758, and belonged to one of the wealthiest and mostinfluential families of New England. He received his early educationat the Latin School, in his native city, graduated at Harvard, andduring the Revolutionary War, and afterward in Shay's Rebellion, actedas aid-de-camp with the rank of Major on the staff of General BenjaminLincoln. It was owing to the latter event that he came to New-York,being sent here by Governor Bowdoin on a diplomatic mission withreference to the capture of Shay, who had crossed the border line fromMassachusetts into this State. This was the first time that Tyler hadleft his native New England, and the first time he could have seen theinside of a regular theater, thus confirming the statements made in thepreface of the play as to the author's inexperience in the rules of thedrama, and as to the short time within which it was written, as hisarrival in New-York was within but a few weeks of its first performance.

Tyler was apparently immediately attracted to the theater, for hebecame a constant visitor before and behind the curtain, and rapidlygained the friendship of all the performers, particularly that ofWignell, the low comedian of the company. He gave Wignell themanuscript of the 'Contrast,' and on the 19th of May, the same year,produced for that actor's benefit his second play, 'May-day in Town, orNew-York in an Uproar,' a comic opera in two acts. He shortlyafterward returned to his home at Boston, where, several years later(1797) another play from his pen, called 'A Good Spec, or Land in theMoon,' was produced. I have been unable to ascertain whether either'Mayday' or 'A Good Spec' was ever printed or not.

Tyler's modesty or indifference as to his literary reputation, asevidenced in his treatment of his plays, characterized his conductthroughout life with respect to his other works; so that, of the manyproductions of his pen that have been printed, the only one that bearshis name upon the title-page is a set of Vermont Law Reports. Andthough early in life he acquired among literary circles a reputation asa witty and graceful writer of poetry and prose, it is doubtful whetherhe benefited much by his writings, either pecuniarily or in popularity,as an author. They were undoubtedly the recreation of his leisuremoments, and though they were thrown off from time to time withoutapparent effort, they bear internal evidence of being the result ofdeep reflection and much reading.[3]

Tyler adopted the legal profession, married, settled in Vermont, becamecelebrated as a successful advocate, was elected a Judge, and later,Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Vermont, and died at Brattleboro,in that State, August 16, 1826.

The success of the 'Contrast' was one of the powerful influences whichaided in bringing about in this country a complete revolution ofsentiment with respect to the drama and theatrical amusements. Up tothe time it first appeared, the drama here had met with few friends,and but little favor.

A single company of English players, the so-called first "AmericanCompany," after a long and bitter struggle with the intolerance andprejudices of the Puritan and Quakers, had attained some slight favorin New-York, Philadelphia, and some of the Southern cities; but in NewEngland the prohibitory laws against all theatrical amusements werestill in force and were rigidly executed. The Continental Congress,while not absolutely suppressing,[4] had set its seal of condemnationagainst the theater, so that the most reputable and law-abiding of ourpeople were kept away from all theatrical amusements, if not frominclination, at least by the fear of deviating from the plain path oftheir duty. But immediately after the production of the 'Contrast,' aradical change of opinion in respect to the drama is apparent.

Plays by American authors followed in rapid succession, the stigmaagainst the theater gradually and completely faded away; and when thefirst citizen of the United States, the immortal Washington, attendedin state as President to witness a first-night performance of anAmerican play, the revolution was complete. At Boston a number of themost prominent, intelligent, and influential citizens assembled in townmeetings, and passed resolutions instructing their representatives todemand of the Legislature an immediate repeal of the laws againsttheatrical amusements, and upon such repeal being refused, theysubscribed the necessary funds to erect a theater and invited theAmerican Company to visit Boston to give a series of performancesthere, which invitation was accepted. There was some interference onthe part of the authorities, but the new theater was erected andperformances publicly given there, while the prohibitory law became adead letter.

It will be noticed that the frontispiece is from a drawing by Dunlap,which must have been done by him shortly after his return from England,where he had been studying art as a pupil under Benjamin West. It wasevidently intended to represent the portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Morris,Mr. Henry, Mr. Wignell, and Mr. Harper, in their respective charactersin this play, with the scenery as given in the last act at the JohnStreet Theater, the first season, but the inferior work of the engraverhad made it of little value as likenesses.

The illustration to the song of Alknomook is from music publishedcontemporaneously with the play. This song had long the popularity ofa national air and was familiar in every drawing-room in the early partof the century. Its authorship has been accredited both to PhilipFreneau and to Mrs. Hunter, the wife of the celebrated Englishphysician, John Hunter. It was published as by Freneau in the AmericanMuseum, where it appears (with slight changes from the version in the'Contrast') in vol. I., page 77. But Freneau never claimed to havewritten it, and never placed it among his own collections of his poems,several editions of which he made long after the 'Contrast' waspublished. Mrs. Hunter's poems were not printed till 1806, and theversion of the song there printed is an exact copy as given in theplay. This song also appeared in a play, entitled, 'New Spain, or Lovein Mexico,' published at Dublin in 1740. After considerable research,I have become convinced that Alknomook is the offspring of Tyler'sgenius.

THOMAS J. MCKEE

THE CONTRAST

A COMEDY; IN FIVE ACTS:

WRITTEN BY A CITIZEN OF THE UNITED STATES;

  Primus ego in patriam
  Aonio—deduxi vertice Musas.

VIRGIL

(Imitated)

  First on our shores I try THALIA'S powers,
  And bid the laughing, useful Maid be ours.

THE CONTRAST

(BEING THE FIRST ESSAY OF *AMERICAN* GENIUS IN DRAMATIC ART)

IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED

TO

THE PRESIDENT AND MEMBERS OF THE

Dramatic Association,

BY

THEIR MOST OBLIGED

AND

MOST GRATEFUL SERVANT,

THOMAS WIGNELL

PHILADELPHIA, 1 January, 1790

PROLOGUE

WRITTEN BY A YOUNG GENTLEMAN OF NEW-YORK, AND SPOKEN BY MR. WIGNELL

  EXULT, each patriot heart!—this night is shewn
  A piece, which we may fairly call our own;
  Where the proud titles of "My Lord! Your Grace!"
  To humble Mr. and plain Sir give place.
  Our Author pictures not from foreign climes
  The fashions or the follies of the times;
  But has confin'd the subject of his work
  To the gay scenes—the circles of New-York.
  On native themes his Muse displays her pow'rs;
  If ours the faults, the virtues too are ours.
  Why should our thoughts to distant countries roam,
  When each refinement may be found at home?
  Who travels now to ape the rich or great,
  To deck an equipage and roll in state;
  To court the graces, or to dance with ease,
  Or by hypocrisy to strive to please?
  Our free-born ancestors such arts despis'd;
  Genuine sincerity alone they pris'd;
  Their minds, with honest emulation fir'd;
  To solid good—not ornament—aspir'd;
  Or, if ambition rous'd a bolder flame,
  Stern virtue throve, where indolence was shame.

  But modern youths, with imitative sense,
  Deem taste in dress the proof of excellence;
  And spurn the meanness of your homespun arts,
  Since homespun habits would obscure their parts;
  Whilst all, which aims at splendour and parade,
  Must come from Europe, and be ready made.
  Strange! We should thus our native worth disclaim,
  And check the progress of our rising fame.
  Yet one, whilst imitation bears the sway,
  Aspires to nobler heights, and points the way.
  Be rous'd, my friends! his bold example view;
  Let your own Bards be proud to copy you!
  Should rigid critics reprobate our play,
  At least the patriotic heart will say,
  "Glorious our fall, since in a noble cause.
  "The bold attempt alone demands applause."
  Still may the wisdom of the Comic Muse
  Exalt your merits, or your faults accuse.
  But think not, tis her aim to be severe;—
  We all are mortals, and as mortals err.
  If candour pleases, we are truly blest;
  Vice trembles, when compell'd to stand confess'd.
  Let not light Censure on your faults offend,
  Which aims not to expose them, but amend.
  Thus does our Author to your candour trust;
  Conscious, the free are generous, as just.

Characters

New-York Maryland

  Col. MANLY, Mr Henry. Mr Hallam.
  DIMPLE, Mr Hallam. Mr Harper.
  VANROUGH, Mr Morris. Mr Morris.
  JESSAMY, Mr Harper. Mr Biddle.
  JONATHAN, Mr Wignell. Mr Wignell.

  CHARLOTTE, Mrs Morris. Mrs Morris.
  MARIA, Mrs Harper. Mrs Harper.
  LETITIA, Mrs Kenna. Mrs Williamson.
  JENNY, Miss Tuke. Miss W. Tuke.

SERVANTS

SCENE, NEW-YORK.

The Contrast.

—————

ACT I.

Scene, an Apartment at CHARLOTTE'S.

CHARLOTTE and LETITIA discovered.

LETITIA

AND so, Charlotte, you really think the pocket-hoop unbecoming.

CHARLOTTE

No, I don't say so. It may be very becoming to saunter round the houseof a rainy day; to visit my grand-mamma, or to go to Quakers' meeting:but to swim in a minuet, with the eyes of fifty well-dressed beaux uponme, to trip it in the Mall, or walk on the battery, give me theluxurious, jaunty, flowing, bell-hoop. It would have delighted you tohave seen me the last evening, my charming girl! I was dangling o'erthe battery with Billy Dimple; a knot of young fellows were upon theplatform; as I passed them I faultered with one of the most bewitchingfalse steps you ever saw, and then recovered myself with such a prettyconfusion, flirting my hoop to discover a jet black shoe and brilliantbuckle. Gad! how my little heart thrilled to hear the confusedraptures of—"Demme, Jack, what a delicate foot!" "Ha! General, whata well-turned—"

LETITIA

Fie! fie! Charlotte [stopping her mouth], I protest you are quite alibertine.

CHARLOTTE

Why, my dear little prude, are we not all such libertines? Do youthink, when I sat tortured two hours under the hands of my friseur, andan hour more at my toilet, that I had any thoughts of my aunt Susan, ormy cousin Betsey? though they are both allowed to be critical judges ofdress.

LETITIA

Why, who should we dress to please, but those are judges of its merit?

CHARLOTTE

Why, a creature who does not know Buffon from Souflee—Man!—myLetitia—Man! for whom we dress, walk, dance, talk, lisp, languish, andsmile. Does not the grave Spectator assure us that even our muchbepraised diffidence, modesty, and blushes are all directed to makeourselves good wives and mothers as fast as we can? Why, I'llundertake with one flirt of this hoop to bring more beaux to my feet inone week than the grave Maria, and her sentimental circle, can do, bysighing sentiment till their hairs are grey.

LETITIA

Well, I won't argue with you; you always out-talk me; let us change thesubject. I hear that Mr. Dimple and Maria are soon to be married.

CHARLOTTE

You hear true. I was consulted in the choice of the wedding clothes.She is to be married in a delicate white sattin, and has a monstrouspretty brocaded lutestring for the second day. It would have done yougood to have seen with what an affected indifference the dearsentimentalist turned over a thousand pretty things, just as if herheart did not palpitate with her approaching happiness, and at lastmade her choice and arranged her dress with such apathy as if she didnot know that plain white sattin and a simple blond lace would shew herclear skin and dark hair to the greatest advantage.

LETITIA

But they say her indifference to dress, and even to the gentlemanhimself, is not entirely affected.

CHARLOTTE

How?

LETITIA

It is whispered that if Maria gives her hand to Mr. Dimple, it will bewithout her heart.

CHARLOTTE

Though the giving the heart is one of the last of all laughableconsiderations in the marriage of a girl of spirit, yet I should liketo hear what antiquated notions the dear little piece of old-fashionedprudery has got in her head.

LETITIA

Why, you know that old Mr.John-Richard-Robert-Jacob-Isaac-Abraham-Cornelius Van Dumpling, BillyDimple's father (for he has thought fit to soften his name, as well asmanners, during his English tour), was the most intimate friend ofMaria's father. The old folks, about a year before Mr. Van Dumpling'sdeath, proposed this match: the young folks were accordinglyintroduced, and told they must love one another. Billy was then agood-natured, decent-dressing young fellow, with a little dash of thecoxcomb, such as our young fellows of fortune usually have. At thistime, I really believe she thought she loved him; and had they beenmarried, I doubt not they might have jogged on, to the end of thechapter, a good kind of a sing-song lack-a-daysaical life, as otherhonest married folks do.

CHARLOTTE

Why did they not then marry?

LETITIA

Upon the death of his father, Billy went to England to see the worldand rub off a little of the patroon rust. During his absence, Maria,like a good girl, to keep herself constant to her nown true-love,avoided company, and betook herself, for her amusement, to her books,and her dear Billy's letters. But, alas! how many ways has themischievous demon of inconstancy of stealing into a woman's heart! Herlove was destroyed by the very means she took to support it.

CHARLOTTE

How?—Oh! I have it—some likely young beau found the way to her study.

LETITIA

Be patient, Charlotte; your head so runs upon beaux. Why, she read SirCharles Grandison, Clarissa Harlow, Shenstone, and the SentimentalJourney; and between whiles, as I said, Billy's letters. But, as hertaste improved, her love declined. The contrast was so strikingbetwixt the good sense of her books and the flimsiness of herlove-letters, that she discovered she had unthinkingly engaged her handwithout her heart; and then the whole transaction, managed by the oldfolks, now appeared so unsentimental, and looked so like bargaining fora bale of goods, that she found she ought to have rejected, accordingto every rule of romance, even the man of her choice, if imposed uponher in that manner. Clary Harlow would have scorned such a match.

CHARLOTTE

Well, how was it on Mr. Dimple's return? Did he meet a more favourablereception than his letters?

LETITIA

Much the same. She spoke of him with respect abroad, and with contemptin her closet. She watched his conduct and conversation, and foundthat he had by travelling, acquired the wickedness of Lovelace withouthis wit, and the politeness of Sir Charles Grandison without hisgenerosity. The ruddy youth, who washed his face at the cistern everymorning, and swore and looked eternal love and constancy, was nowmetamorphosed into a flippant, palid, polite beau, who devotes themorning to his toilet, reads a few pages of Chesterfield's letters, andthen minces out, to put the infamous principles in practice upon everywoman he meets.

CHARLOTTE

But, if she is so apt at conjuring up these sentimental bugbears, whydoes she not discard him at once?

LETITIA

Why, she thinks her word too sacred to be trifled with. Besides, herfather, who has a great respect for the memory of his deceased friend,is ever telling her how he shall renew his years in their union, andrepeating the dying injunctions of old Van Dumpling.

CHARLOTTE

A mighty pretty story! And so you would make me believe that thesensible Maria would give up Dumpling manor, and the all-accomplishedDimple as a husband, for the absurd, ridiculous reason, forsooth,because she despises and abhors him. Just as if a lady could not beprivileged to spend a man's fortune, ride in his carriage, be calledafter his name, and call him her nown dear lovee when she wants money,without loving and respecting the great he-creature. Oh! my deargirl, you are a monstrous prude.

LETITIA

I don't say what I would do; I only intimate how I suppose she wishesto act.

CHARLOTTE

No, no, no! A fig for sentiment. If she breaks, or wishes to break,with Mr. Dimple, depend upon it, she has some other man in her eye. Awoman rarely discards one lover until she is sure of another. Letitialittle thinks what a clue I have to Dimple's conduct. The generous mansubmits to render himself disgusting to Maria, in order that she mayleave him at liberty to address me. I must change the subject.[Aside, and rings a bell.

Enter SERVANT.

Frank, order the horses to.—Talking of marriage, did you hear thatSally Bloomsbury is going to be married next week to Mr. Indigo, therich Carolinian?

LETITIA

Sally Bloomsbury married!—why, she is not yet in her teens.

CHARLOTTE

I do not know how that is, but you may depend upon it, 'tis a doneaffair. I have it from the best authority. There is my aunt Wyerly'sHannah. You know Hannah; though a black, she is a wench that was nevercaught in a lie in her life. Now, Hannah has a brother who courtsSarah, Mrs. Catgut the milliner's girl, and she told Hannah's brother,and Hannah, who, as I said before, is a girl of undoubted veracity,told it directly to me, that Mrs. Catgut was making a new cap for MissBloomsbury, which, as it was very dressy, it is very probable isdesigned for a wedding cap. Now, as she is to be married, who can itbe to but to Mr. Indigo? Why, there is no other gentleman that visitsat her papa's.

LETITIA

Say not a word more, Charlotte. Your intelligence is so direct andwell grounded, it is almost a pity that it is not a piece of scandal.

CHARLOTTE

Oh! I am the pink of prudence. Though I cannot charge myself withever having discredited a tea-party by my silence, yet I take carenever to report any thing of my acquaintance, especially if it is totheir credit,—discredit, I mean,—until I have searched to the bottomof it. It is true, there is infinite pleasure in this charitablepursuit. Oh! how delicious to go and condole with the friends of somebacksliding sister, or to retire with some old dowager or maiden auntof the family, who love scandal so well that they cannot forbeargratifying their appetite at the expense of the reputation of theirnearest relations! And then to return full fraught with a richcollection of circumstances, to retail to the next circle of ouracquaintance under the strongest injunctions of secrecy,—ha, ha,ha!—interlarding the melancholy tale with so many doleful shakes ofthe head, and more doleful "Ah! who would have thought it! so amiable,so prudent a young lady, as we all thought her, what a monstrous pity!well, I have nothing to charge myself with; I acted the part of afriend, I warned her of the principles of that rake, I told her whatwould be the consequence; I told her so, I told her so."—Ha, ha, ha!

LETITIA

Ha, ha, ha! Well, but, Charlotte, you don't tell me what you think of
Miss Bloomsbury's match.

CHARLOTTE

Think! why I think it is probable she cried for a plaything, and theyhave given her a husband. Well, well, well, the puling chit shall notbe deprived of her plaything: 'tis only exchanging London dolls forAmerican babies.—Apropos, of babies, have you heard what Mrs.Affable's high-flying notions of delicacy have come to?

LETITIA

Who, she that was Miss Lovely?

CHARLOTTE

The same; she married Bob Affable of Schenectady. Don't you remember?

Enter SERVANT.

SERVANT.

Madam, the carriage is ready.

LETITIA

Shall we go to the stores first, or visiting?

CHARLOTTE

I should think it rather too early to visit, especially Mrs. Prim; youknow she is so particular.

LETITIA

Well, but what of Mrs. Affable?

CHARLOTTE

Oh, I'll tell you as we go; come, come, let us hasten. I hear Mrs.Catgut has some of the prettiest caps arrived you ever saw. I shalldie if I have not the first sight of them. [Exeunt.

[page intentionally blank]

[illustration omitted]

SCENE II.

A Room in VAN ROUGH'S House

MARIA sitting disconsolate at a Table, with Books, &c.

SONG.

I.

  The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day;
  But glory remains when their lights fade away!
  Begin, ye tormentors! your threats are in vain,
  For the son of Alknomook shall never complain.

II.

  Remember the arrows he shot from his bow;
  Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low:
  Why so slow?—do you wait till I shrink from the pain?
  No—the son of Alknomook will never complain.

III.

  Remember the wood where in ambush we lay,
  And the scalps which we bore from your nation away:
  Now the flame rises fast, you exult in my pain;
  But the son of Alknomook can never complain.

IV.

  I go to the land where my father is gone;
  His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son:
  Death comes like a friend, he relieves me from pain;
  And thy son, Oh Alknomook! has scorn'd to complain.

There is something in this song which ever calls forth my affections.The manly virtue of courage, that fortitude which steels the heartagainst the keenest misfortunes, which interweaves the laurel of gloryamidst the instruments of torture and death, displays something sonoble, so exalted, that in despite of the prejudices of education Icannot but admire it, even in a savage. The prepossession which oursex is supposed to entertain for the character of a soldier is, I know,a standing piece of raillery among the wits. A cockade, a lapell'dcoat, and a feather, they will tell you, are irresistible by a femaleheart. Let it be so. Who is it that considers the helpless situationof our sex, that does not see that we each moment stand in need of aprotector, and that a brave one too? Formed of the more delicatematerials of nature, endowed only with the softer passions, incapable,from our ignorance of the world, to guard against the wiles of mankind,our security for happiness often depends upon their generosity andcourage. Alas! how little of the former do we find! Howinconsistent! that man should be leagued to destroy that honour uponwhich solely rests his respect and esteem. Ten thousand temptationsallure us, ten thousand passions betray us; yet the smallest deviationfrom the path of rectitude is followed by the contempt and insult ofman, and the more remorseless pity of woman; years of penitence andtears cannot wash away the stain, nor a life of virtue obliterate itsremembrance. Reputation is the life of woman; yet courage to protectit is masculine and disgusting; and the only safe asylum a woman ofdelicacy can find is in the arms of a man of honour. How naturally,then, should we love the brave and the generous; how gratefully shouldwe bless the arm raised for our protection, when nerv'd by virtue anddirected by honour! Heaven grant that the man with whom I may beconnected—may be connected! Whither has my imagination transportedme—whither does it now lead me? Am I not indissolubly engaged, "byevery obligation of honour which my own consent and my father'sapprobation can give," to a man who can never share my affections, andwhom a few days hence it will be criminal for me to disapprove—todisapprove! would to heaven that were all—to despise. For, can themost frivolous manners, actuated by the most depraved heart, meet, ormerit, anything but contempt from every woman of delicacy and sentiment?

[VAN ROUGH without. Mary!]

Ha! my father's voice—Sir!—

[Enter VAN ROUGH.

VAN ROUGH

What, Mary, always singing doleful ditties, and moping over theseplaguy books.

MARIA

I hope, Sir, that it is not criminal to improve my mind with books, orto divert my melancholy with singing, at my leisure hours.

VAN ROUGH

Why, I don't know that, child; I don't know that. They us'd to say,when I was a young man, that if a woman knew how to make a pudding, andto keep herself out of fire and water, she knew enough for a wife.Now, what good have these books done you? have they not made youmelancholy? as you call it. Pray, what right has a girl of your age tobe in the dumps? haven't you everything your heart can wish; an't yougoing to be married to a young man of great fortune; an't you going tohave the quit-rent of twenty miles square?

MARIA

One-hundredth part of the land, and a lease for life of the heart of aman I could love, would satisfy me.

VAN ROUGH

Pho, pho, pho! child; nonsense, downright nonsense, child. This comesof your reading your storybooks; your Charles Grandisons, yourSentimental Journals, and your Robinson Crusoes, and such othertrumpery. No, no, no! child; it is money makes the mare go; keep youreye upon the main chance, Mary.

MARIA

Marriage, Sir, is, indeed, a very serious affair.

VAN ROUGH

You are right, child; you are right. I am sure I found it so, to mycost.

MARIA

I mean, Sir, that as marriage is a portion for life, and so intimatelyinvolves our happiness, we cannot be too considerate in the choice ofour companion.

VAN ROUGH

Right, child; very right. A young woman should be very sober when sheis making her choice, but when she has once made it, as you have done,I don't see why she should not be as merry as a grig; I am sure she hasreason enough to be so. Solomon says that "there is a time to laugh,and a time to weep." Now, a time for a young woman to laugh is when shehas made sure of a good rich husband. Now, a time to cry, according toyou, Mary, is when she is making choice of him; but I should think thata young woman's time to cry was when she despaired of getting one.Why, there was your mother, now: to be sure, when I popp'd the questionto her she did look a little silly; but when she had once looked downon her apron-strings, as all modest young women us'd to do, and drawledout ye-s, she was as brisk and as merry as a bee.

MARIA

My honoured mother, Sir, had no motive to melancholy; she married theman of her choice.

VAN ROUGH

The man of her choice! And pray, Mary, an't you going to marry the manof your choice—what trumpery notion is this? It is these vile books[throwing them away]. I'd have you to know, Mary, if you won't makeyoung Van Dumpling the man of your choice, you shall marry him as theman of my choice.

MARIA

You terrify me, Sir. Indeed, Sir, I am all submission. My will isyours.

VAN ROUGH

Why, that is the way your mother us'd to talk. "My will is yours, mydear Mr. Van Rough, my will is yours"; but she took special care tohave her own way, though, for all that.

MARIA

Do not reflect upon my mother's memory, Sir—

VAN ROUGH

Why not, Mary, why not? She kept me from speaking my mind all herlife, and do you think she shall henpeck me now she is dead too? Come,come; don't go to sniveling; be a good girl, and mind the main chance.I'll see you well settled in the world.

MARIA

I do not doubt your love, Sir, and it is my duty to obey you. I willendeavour to make my duty and inclination go hand in hand.

VAN ROUGH

Well, Well, Mary; do you be a good girl, mind the main chance, andnever mind inclination. Why, do you know that I have been down in thecellar this very morning to examine a pipe of Madeira which I purchasedthe week you were born, and mean to tap on your wedding day?—That pipecost me fifty pounds sterling. It was well worth sixty pounds; but Iover-reach'd Ben Bulkhead, the supercargo. I'll tell you the wholestory. You must know that—

Enter SERVANT.

SERVANT.

Sir, Mr. Transfer, the broker is below. [Exit.

VAN ROUGH

Well, Mary, I must go. Remember, and be a good girl, and mind the mainchance. [Exit.

MARIA, alone.

How deplorable is my situation! How distressing for a daughter to findher heart militating with her filial duty! I know my father loves metenderly; why then do I reluctantly obey him? Heaven knows! with whatreluctance I should oppose the will of a parent, or set an example offilial disobedience; at a parent's command, I could wed awkwardness anddeformity. Were the heart of my husband good, I would so magnify hisgood qualities with the eye of conjugal affection, that the defects ofhis person and manners should be lost in the emanation of his virtues.At a father's command, I could embrace poverty. Were the poor man myhusband, I would learn resignation to my lot; I would enliven ourfrugal meal with good humour, and chase away misfortune from ourcottage with a smile. At a father's command, I could almost submit towhat every female heart knows to be the most mortifying, to marry aweak man, and blush at my husband's folly in every company I visited.But to marry a depraved wretch, whose only virtue is a polishedexterior; who is actuated by the unmanly ambition of conquering thedefenceless; whose heart, insensible to the emotions of patriotism,dilates at the plaudits of every unthinking girl; whose laurels are thesighs and tears of the miserable victims of his speciousbehaviour,—can he, who has no regard for the peace and happiness ofother families, ever have a due regard for the peace and happiness ofhis own? Would to heaven that my father were not so hasty in histemper? Surely, if I were to state my reasons for declining thismatch, he would not compel me to marry a man, whom, though my lips maysolemnly promise to honour, I find my heart must ever despise.[Exit.

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Enter CHARLOTTE and LETITIA.

CHARLOTTE [at entering].

BETTY, take those things out of the carriage and carry them to mychamber; see that you don't tumble them. My dear, I protest, I thinkit was the homeliest of the whole. I declare I was almost tempted toreturn and change it.

LETITIA

Why would you take it?

CHARLOTTE

Didn't Mrs. Catgut say it was the most fashionable?

LETITIA

But, my dear, it will never fit becomingly on you.

CHARLOTTE

I know that; but did you not hear Mrs. Catgut say it was fashionable?

LETITIA

Did you see that sweet airy cap with the white sprig?

CHARLOTTE

Yes, and I longed to take it; but, my dear, what could I do? Did notMrs. Catgut say it was the most fashionable; and if I had not taken it,was not that awkward, gawky, Sally Slender, ready to purchase itimmediately?

LETITIA

Did you observe how she tumbled over the things at the next shop, andthen went off without purchasing anything, nor even thanking the poorman for his trouble? But, of all the awkward creatures, did you seeMiss Blouze endeavouring to thrust her unmerciful arm into those smallkid gloves?

CHARLOTTE

Ha, ha, ha, ha!

LETITIA

Then did you take notice with what an affected warmth of friendship sheand Miss Wasp met? when all their acquaintance know how much pleasurethey take in abusing each other in every company.

CHARLOTTE

Lud! Letitia, is that so extraordinary? Why, my dear, I hope you arenot going to turn sentimentalist. Scandal, you know, is but amusingourselves with the faults, foibles, follies, and reputations of ourfriends; indeed, I don't know why we should have friends, if we are notat liberty to make use of them. But no person is so ignorant of theworld as to suppose, because I amuse myself with a lady's faults, thatI am obliged to quarrel with her person every time we meet: believe me,my dear, we should have very few acquaintance at that rate.

SERVANT enters and delivers a letter to CHARLOTTE, and—[Exit.

CHARLOTTE

You'll excuse me, my dear.

[Opens and reads to herself.

LETITIA

Oh, quite excusable.

CHARLOTTE

As I hope to be married, my brother Henry is in the city.

LETITIA

What, your brother, Colonel Manly?

CHARLOTTE

Yes, my dear; the only brother I have in the world.

LETITIA

Was he never in this city?

CHARLOTTE

Never nearer than Harlem Heights, where he lay with his regiment.

LETITIA

What sort of a being is this brother of yours? If he is as chatty, aspretty, as sprightly as you, half the belles in the city will bepulling caps for him.

CHARLOTTE

My brother is the very counterpart and reverse of me: I am gay, he isgrave; I am airy, he is solid; I am ever selecting the most pleasingobjects for my laughter, he has a tear for every pitiful one. Andthus, whilst he is plucking the briars and thorns from the path of theunfortunate, I am strewing my own path with roses.

LETITIA

My sweet friend, not quite so poetical, and a little more particular.

CHARLOTTE

Hands off, Letitia. I feel the rage of simile upon me; I can't talk toyou in any other way. My brother has a heart replete with the noblestsentiments, but then, it is like—it is like—Oh! you provoking girl,you have deranged all my ideas—it is like—Oh! I have it—his heart islike an old maiden lady's bandbox; it contains many costly things,arranged with the most scrupulous nicety, yet the misfortune is thatthey are too delicate, costly, and antiquated for common use.

LETITIA

By what I can pick out of your flowery description, your brother is nobeau.

CHARLOTTE

No, indeed; he makes no pretension to the character. He'd ride, orrather fly, an hundred miles to relieve a distressed object, or to do agallant act in the service of his country; but should you drop your fanor bouquet in his presence, it is ten to one that some beau at thefarther end of the room would have the honour of presenting it to youbefore he had observed that it fell. I'll tell you one of hisantiquated, anti-gallant notions. He said once in my presence, in aroom full of company,—would you believe it?—in a large circle ofladies, that the best evidence a gentleman could give a young lady ofhis respect and affection was to endeavour in a friendly manner torectify her foibles. I protest I was crimson to the eyes, uponreflecting that I was known as his sister.

LETITIA

Insupportable creature! tell a lady of her faults! if he is so grave, Ifear I have no chance of captivating him.

CHARLOTTE

His conversation is like a rich, old-fashioned brocade,—it will standalone; every sentence is a sentiment. Now you may judge what a time Ihad with him, in my twelve months' visit to my father. He read me suchlectures, out of pure brotherly affection, against the extremes offashion, dress, flirting, and coquetry, and all the other dear thingswhich he knows I doat upon, that I protest his conversation made me asmelancholy as if I had been at church; and heaven knows, though I neverprayed to go there but on one occasion, yet I would have exchanged hisconversation for a psalm and a sermon. Church is rather melancholy, tobe sure; but then I can ogle the beaux, and be regaled with "hereendeth the first lesson," but his brotherly here, you would think hadno end. You captivate him! Why, my dear, he would as soon fall inlove with a box of Italian flowers. There is Maria, now, if she werenot engaged, she might do something. Oh! how I should like to see thatpair of pensorosos together, looking as grave as two sailors' wives ofa stormy night, with a flow of sentiment meandering through theirconversation like purling streams in modern poetry.

LETITIA

Oh! my dear fanciful—

CHARLOTTE

Hush! I hear some person coming through the entry.

Enter SERVANT.

SERVANT.

Madam, there's a gentleman below who calls himself Colonel Manly; doyou chuse to be at home?

CHARLOTTE

Shew him in. [Exit Servant.] Now for a sober face.

Enter Colonel MANLY.

MANLY

My dear Charlotte, I am happy that I once more enfold you within thearms of fraternal affection. I know you are going to ask (amiableimpatience!) how our parents do,—the venerable pair transmit you theirblessing by me. They totter on the verge of a well-spent life, andwish only to see their children settled in the world, to depart inpeace.

CHARLOTTE

I am very happy to hear that they are well. [Coolly.] Brother, willyou give me leave to introduce you to our uncle's ward, one of my mostintimate friends?

MANLY [saluting Letitia].

I ought to regard your friends as my own.

CHARLOTTE

Come, Letitia, do give us a little dash of your vivacity; my brother isso sentimental and so grave, that I protest he'll give us the vapours.

MANLY

Though sentiment and gravity, I know, are banished the polite world,yet I hoped they might find some countenance in the meeting of suchnear connections as brother and sister.

CHARLOTTE

Positively, brother, if you go one step further in this strain, youwill set me crying, and that, you know, would spoil my eyes; and then Ishould never get the husband which our good papa and mamma have sokindly wished me—never be established in the world.

MANLY

Forgive me, my sister,—I am no enemy to mirth; I love yoursprightliness; and I hope it will one day enliven the hours of someworthy man; but when I mention the respectable authors of myexistence,—the cherishers and protectors of my helpless infancy, whosehearts glow with such fondness and attachment that they would willinglylay down their lives for my welfare,—you will excuse me if I am sounfashionable as to speak of them with some degree of respect andreverence.

CHARLOTTE

Well, well, brother; if you won't be gay, we'll not differ; I will beas grave as you wish. [Affects gravity.] And so, brother, you havecome to the city to exchange some of your commutation notes for alittle pleasure?

MANLY

Indeed you are mistaken; my errand is not of amusement, but business;and as I neither drink nor game, my expenses will be so trivial, Ishall have no occasion to sell my notes.

CHARLOTTE

Then you won't have occasion to do a very good thing. Why, here wasthe Vermont General—he came down some time since, sold all his mustynotes at one stroke, and then laid the cash out in trinkets for hisdear Fanny. I want a dozen pretty things myself; have you got thenotes with you?

MANLY

I shall be ever willing to contribute, as far as it is in my power, toadorn or in any way to please my sister; yet I hope I shall never beobliged for this to sell my notes. I may be romantic, but I preservethem as a sacred deposit. Their full amount is justly due to me, butas embarrassments, the natural consequences of a long war, disable mycountry from supporting its credit, I shall wait with patience until itis rich enough to discharge them. If that is not in my day, they shallbe transmitted as an honourable certificate to posterity, that I havehumbly imitated our illustrious WASHINGTON, in having exposed my healthand life in the service of my country, without reaping any other rewardthan the glory of conquering in so arduous a contest.

CHARLOTTE

Well said heroics. Why, my dear Henry, you have such a lofty way ofsaying things, that I protest I almost tremble at the thought ofintroducing you to the polite circles in the city. The belles wouldthink you were a player run mad, with your head filled with old scrapsof tragedy; and as to the beaux, they might admire, because they wouldnot understand you. But, however, I must, I believe, introduce you totwo or three ladies of my acquaintance.

LETITIA

And that will make him acquainted with thirty or forty beaux.

CHARLOTTE

Oh! brother, you don't know what a fund of happiness you have in store.

MANLY

I fear, sister, I have not refinement sufficient to enjoy it.

CHARLOTTE

Oh! you cannot fail being pleased.

LETITIA

Our ladies are so delicate and dressy.

CHARLOTTE

And our beaux so dressy and delicate.

LETITIA

Our ladies chat and flirt so agreeably.

CHARLOTTE

And our beaux simper and bow so gracefully.

LETITIA

With their hair so trim and neat.

CHARLOTTE

And their faces so soft and sleek.

LETITIA

Their buckles so tonish and bright.

CHARLOTTE

And their hands so slender and white.

LETITIA

I vow, Charlotte, we are quite poetical.

CHARLOTTE

And then, brother, the faces of the beaux are of such a lily-white hue!None of that horrid robustness of constitution, that vulgar corn-fedglow of health, which can only serve to alarm an unmarried lady withapprehension, and prove a melancholy memento to a married one, that shecan never hope for the happiness of being a widow. I will say this tothe credit of our city beaux, that such is the delicacy of theircomplexion, dress, and address, that, even had I no reliance upon thehonour of the dear Adonises, I would trust myself in any possiblesituation with them, without the least apprehensions of rudeness.

MANLY

Sister Charlotte!

CHARLOTTE

Now, now, now, brother [interrupting him], now don't go to spoil mymirth with a dash of your gravity; I am so glad to see you, I am intiptop spirits. Oh! that you could be with us at a little snug party.There is Billy Simper, Jack Chaffe, and Colonel Van Titter, MissPromonade, and the two Miss Tambours, sometimes make a party, with someother ladies, in a side-box at the play. Everything is conducted withsuch decorum. First we bow round to the company in general, then toeach one in particular, then we have so many inquiries after eachother's health, and we are so happy to meet each other, and it is somany ages since we last had that pleasure, and if a married lady is incompany, we have such a sweet dissertation upon her son Bobby'schin-cough; then the curtain rises, then our sensibility is all awake,and then, by the mere force of apprehension, we torture some harmlessexpression into a double meaning, which the poor author never dreamtof, and then we have recourse to our fans, and then we blush, and thenthe gentlemen jog one another, peep under the fan, and make theprettiest remarks; and then we giggle and they simper, and they giggleand we simper, and then the curtain drops, and then for nuts andoranges, and then we bow, and it's pray, Ma'am, take it, and pray, Sir,keep it, and oh! not for the world, Sir; and then the curtain risesagain, and then we blush and giggle and simper and bow all over again.Oh! the sentimental charms of a side-box conversation! [All laugh.]

MANLY

Well, sister, I join heartily with you in the laugh; for, in myopinion, it is as justifiable to laugh at folly as it is reprehensibleto ridicule misfortune.

CHARLOTTE

Well, but, brother, positively I can't introduce you in these clothes:why, your coat looks as if it were calculated for the vulgar purpose ofkeeping yourself comfortable.

MANLY

This coat was my regimental coat in the late war. The public tumultsof our state have induced me to buckle on the sword in support of thatgovernment which I once fought to establish. I can only say, sister,that there was a time when this coat was respectable, and some peopleeven thought that those men who had endured so many winter campaigns inthe service of their country, without bread, clothing, or pay, at leastdeserved that the poverty of their appearance should not be ridiculed.

CHARLOTTE

We agree in opinion entirely, brother, though it would not have donefor me to have said it: it is the coat makes the man respectable. Inthe time of the war, when we were almost frightened to death, why, yourcoat was respectable, that is, fashionable; now another kind of coat isfashionable, that is, respectable. And pray direct the taylor to makeyours the height of the fashion.

MANLY

Though it is of little consequence to me of what shape my coat is, yet,as to the height of the fashion, there you will please to excuse me,sister. You know my sentiments on that subject. I have often lamentedthe advantage which the French have over us in that particular. InParis, the fashions have their dawnings, their routine, anddeclensions, and depend as much upon the caprice of the day as in othercountries; but there every lady assumes a right to deviate from thegeneral ton as far as will be of advantage to her own appearance. InAmerica, the cry is, what is the fashion? and we follow itindiscriminately, because it is so.

CHARLOTTE Therefore it is, that when large hoops are in fashion, weoften see many a plump girl lost in the immensity of a hoop-petticoat,whose want of height and en-bon-point would never have been remarked inany other dress. When the high head-dress is the mode, how then do wesee a lofty cushion, with a profusion of gauze, feathers, and ribband,supported by a face no bigger than an apple! whilst a broad full-facedlady, who really would have appeared tolerably handsome in a largehead-dress, looks with her smart chapeau as masculine as a soldier.

MANLY

But remember, my dear sister, and I wish all my fair country-womenwould recollect, that the only excuse a young lady can have for goingextravagantly into a fashion is because it makes her look extravagantlyhandsome.—Ladies, I must wish you a good morning.

CHARLOTTE

But, brother, you are going to make home with us.

MANLY

Indeed I cannot. I have seen my uncle and explained that matter.

CHARLOTTE

Come and dine with us, then. We have a family dinner about half-pastfour o'clock.

MANLY

I am engaged to dine with the Spanish ambassador. I was introduced tohim by an old brother officer; and instead of freezing me with a coldcard of compliment to dine with him ten days hence, he, with the trueold Castilian frankness, in a friendly manner, asked me to dine withhim to-day—an honour I could not refuse. Sister, adieu—Madam, yourmost obedient—[Exit.

CHARLOTTE

I will wait upon you to the door, brother; I have something particularto say to you. [Exit.

LETITIA, alone.

What a pair!—She the pink of flirtation, he the essence of everythingthat is outre and gloomy.—I think I have completely deceived Charlotteby my manner of speaking of Mr. Dimple; she's too much the friend ofMaria to be confided in. He is certainly rendering himselfdisagreeable to Maria, in order to break with her and proffer his handto me. This is what the delicate fellow hinted in our lastconversation. [Exit.

SCENE II. The Mall.

Enter JESSAMY.

Positively this Mall is a very pretty place. I hope the cits won'truin it by repairs. To be sure, it won't do to speak of in the sameday with Ranelagh or Vauxhall; however, it's a fine place for a youngfellow to display his person to advantage. Indeed, nothing is losthere; the girls have taste, and I am very happy to find they haveadopted the elegant London fashion of looking back, after a genteelfellow like me has passed them.—Ah! who comes here? This, by hisawkwardness, must be the Yankee colonel's servant. I'll accost him.

Enter JONATHAN.

JESSAMY

Votre tres-humble serviteur, Monsieur. I understand Colonel Manly, the
Yankee officer, has the honour of your services.

JONATHAN

Sir!—

JESSAMY

I say, Sir, I understand that Colonel Manly has the honour of havingyou for a servant.

JONATHAN

Servant! Sir, do you take me for a neger,—I am Colonel Manly's waiter.

JESSAMY

A true Yankee distinction, egad, without a difference. Why, Sir, doyou not perform all the offices of a servant? do you not even blackenhis boots?

JONATHAN

Yes; I do grease them a bit sometimes; but I am a true blue son ofliberty, for all that. Father said I should come as Colonel Manly'swaiter, to see the world, and all that; but no man shall master me. Myfather has as good a farm as the colonel.

JESSAMY

Well, Sir, we will not quarrel about terms upon the eve of anacquaintance from which I promise myself so muchsatisfaction;—therefore, sans ceremonie—

JONATHAN

What?—

JESSAMY

I say I am extremely happy to see Colonel Manly's waiter.

JONATHAN

Well, and I vow, too, I am pretty considerably glad to see you; butwhat the dogs need of all this outlandish lingo? Who may you be, Sir,if I may be so bold?

JESSAMY

I have the honour to be Mr. Dimple's servant, or, if you please,waiter. We lodge under the same roof, and should be glad of the honourof your acquaintance.

JONATHAN

You a waiter! by the living jingo, you look so topping, I took you forone of the agents to Congress.

JESSAMY

The brute has discernment, notwithstanding his appearance.—Give meleave to say I wonder then at your familiarity.

JONATHAN

Why, as to the matter of that, Mr.—; pray, what's your name?

JESSAMY

Jessamy, at your service.

JONATHAN

Why, I swear we don't make any great matter of distinction in our statebetween quality and other folks.

JESSAMY

This is, indeed, a levelling principle.—I hope, Mr. Jonathan, you havenot taken part with the insurgents.

JONATHAN

Why, since General Shays has sneaked off and given us the bag to hold,I don't care to give my opinion; but you'll promise not to tell—putyour ear this way—you won't tell?—I vow I did think the sturgeonswere right.

JESSAMY

I thought, Mr. Jonathan, you Massachusetts men always argued with a gunin your hand. Why didn't you join them?

JONATHAN

Why, the colonel is one of those folks called the Shin—Shin—dang itall, I can't speak them lignum vitae words—you know who I mean—thereis a company of them—they wear a china goose at their button-hole—akind of gilt thing.—Now the colonel told father and brother,—you mustknow there are, let me see—there is Elnathan, Silas, and Barnabas,Tabitha—no, no, she's a she—tarnation, now I have it—there'sElnathan, Silas, Barnabas, Jonathan, that's I—seven of us, six wentinto the wars, and I staid at home to take care of mother. Colonelsaid that it was a burning shame for the true blue Bunker Hill sons ofliberty, who had fought Governor Hutchinson, Lord North, and the Devil,to have any hand in kicking up a cursed dust against a government whichwe had, every mother's son of us, a hand in making.

JESSAMY

Bravo!—Well, have you been abroad in the city since your arrival?
What have you seen that is curious and entertaining?

JONATHAN

Oh! I have seen a power of fine sights. I went to see twomarble-stone men and a leaden horse that stands out in doors in allweathers; and when I came where they was, one had got no head, andt'other wern't there. They said as how the leaden man was a damn'dtory, and that he took wit in his anger and rode off in the time of thetroubles.

JESSAMY

But this was not the end of your excursion?

JONATHAN

Oh, no; I went to a place they call Holy Ground. Now I counted thiswas a place where folks go to meeting; so I put my hymn-book in mypocket, and walked softly and grave as a minister; and when I camethere, the dogs a bit of a meeting-house could I see. At last I spieda young gentlewoman standing by one of the seats which they have hereat the doors. I took her to be the deacon's daughter, and she lookedso kind, and so obliging, that I thought I would go and ask her the wayto lecture, and—would you think it?—she called me dear, and sweeting,and honey, just as if we were married: by the living jingo, I had amonth's mind to buss her.

JESSAMY

Well, but how did it end?

JONATHAN

Why, as I was standing talking with her, a parcel of sailor men andboys got round me, the snarl-headed curs fell a-kicking and cursing ofme at such a tarnal rate, that I vow I was glad to take to my heels andsplit home, right off, tail on end, like a stream of chalk.

JESSAMY

Why, my dear friend, you are not acquainted with the city; that girlyou saw was a—[whispers.]

JONATHAN

Mercy on my soul! was that young woman a harlot!—Well! if this is
New-York Holy Ground, what must the Holy-day Ground be!

JESSAMY

Well, you should not judge of the city too rashly. We have a number ofelegant, fine girls here that make a man's leisure hours pass veryagreeably. I would esteem it an honour to announce you to some ofthem.—Gad! that announce is a select word; I wonder where I picked itup.

JONATHAN

I don't want to know them.

JESSAMY

Come, come, my dear friend, I see that I must assume the honour ofbeing the director of your amusements. Nature has given us passions,and youth and opportunity stimulate to gratify them. It is no shame,my dear Blueskin, for a man to amuse himself with a little gallantry.

JONATHAN

Girl huntry! I don't altogether understand. I never played at thatgame. I know how to play hunt the squirrel, but I can't play anythingwith the girls; I am as good as married.

JESSAMY

Vulgar, horrid brute! Married, and above a hundred miles from hiswife, and thinks that an objection to his making love to every woman hemeets! He never can have read, no, he never can have been in a roomwith a volume of the divine Chesterfield.—So you are married?

JONATHAN

No, I don't say so; I said I was as good as married, a kind of promise.

JESSAMY

As good as married!—

JONATHAN

Why, yes; there's Tabitha Wymen, the deacon's daughter, at home; sheand I have been courting a great while, and folks say as how we are tobe married; and so I broke a piece of money with her when we parted,and she promised not to spark it with Solomon Dyer while I am gone.You wouldn't have me false to my true-love, would you?

JESSAMY

May be you have another reason for constancy; possibly the young ladyhas a fortune? Ha! Mr. Jonathan, the solid charms: the chains of loveare never so binding as when the links are made of gold.

JONATHAN

Why, as to fortune, I must needs say her father is pretty dumb rich; hewent representative for our town last year. He will give her—let mesee—four times seven is—seven times four—nought and carry one,— hewill give her twenty acres of land—somewhat rocky though—a Bible, anda cow.

JESSAMY

Twenty acres of rock, a Bible, and a cow! Why, my dear Mr. Jonathan,we have servant-maids, or, as you would more elegantly express it,waitresses, in this city, who collect more in one year from theirmistresses' cast clothes.

JONATHAN

You don't say so!—

JESSAMY

Yes, and I'll introduce to one of them. There is a little lump offlesh and delicacy that lives at next door, waitress to Miss Maria; weoften see her on the stoop.

JONATHAN

But are you sure she would be courted by me?

JESSAMY

Never doubt it; remember a faint heart never—blisters on my tongue—Iwas going to be guilty of a vile proverb; flat against the authority ofChesterfield. I say there can be no doubt that the brilliancy of yourmerit will secure you a favourable reception.

JONATHAN

Well, but what must I say to her?

JESSAMY

Say to her! why, my dear friend, though I admire your profoundknowledge on every other subject, yet, you will pardon my saying thatyour want of opportunity has made the female heart escape the poignancyof your penetration. Say to her! Why, when a man goes a-courting, andhopes for success, he must begin with doing, and not saying.

JONATHAN

Well, what must I do?

JESSAMY

Why, when you are introduced you must make five or six elegant bows.

JONATHAN

Six elegant bows! I understand that; six, you say? Well—

JESSAMY

Then you must press and kiss her hand; then press and kiss, and so onto her lips and cheeks; then talk as much as you can about hearts,darts, flames, nectar, and ambrosia—the more incoherent the better.

JONATHAN

Well, but suppose she should be angry with I?

JESSAMY

Why, if she should pretend—please to observe, Mr. Jonathan—if sheshould pretend to be offended, you must— But I'll tell you how mymaster acted in such a case: He was seated by a young lady of eighteenupon a sofa, plucking with a wanton hand the blooming sweets of youthand beauty. When the lady thought it necessary to check his ardour,she called up a frown upon her lovely face, so irresistibly alluring,that it would have warmed the frozen bosom of age; remember, said she,putting her delicate arm upon his, remember your character and myhonour. My master instantly dropped upon his knees, with eyes swimmingwith love, cheeks glowing with desire, and in the gentlest modulationof voice he said: My dear Caroline, in a few months our hands will beindissolubly united at the altar; our hearts I feel are already so; thefavours you now grant as evidence of your affection are favours indeed;yet, when the ceremony is once past, what will now be received withrapture will then be attributed to duty.

JONATHAN

Well, and what was the consequence?

JESSAMY

The consequence!—Ah! forgive me, my dear friend, but you New Englandgentlemen have such a laudable curiosity of seeing the bottom ofeverything;—why, to be honest, I confess I saw the blooming cherub ofa consequence smiling in its angelic mother's arms, about ten monthsafterwards.

JONATHAN

Well, if I follow all your plans, make them six bows, and all that,shall I have such little cherubim consequences?

JESSAMY

Undoubtedly.—What are you musing upon?

JONATHAN

You say you'll certainly make me acquainted?— Why, I was thinkingthen how I should contrive to pass this broken piece of silver—won'tit buy a sugar-dram?

JESSAMY

What is that, the love-token from the deacon's daughter?—You come onbravely. But I must hasten to my master. Adieu, my dear friend.

JONATHAN

Stay, Mr. Jessamy—must I buss her when I am introduced to her?

JESSAMY

I told you, you must kiss her.

JONATHAN

Well, but must I buss her?

JESSAMY

Why, kiss and buss, and buss and kiss, is all one.

JONATHAN

Oh! my dear friend, though you have a profound knowledge of all, apungency of tribulation, you don't know everything.[Exit.

JESSAMY, alone.

Well, certainly I improve; my master could not have insinuated himselfwith more address into the heart of a man he despised. Now will thisblundering dog sicken Jenny with his nauseous pawings, until she fliesinto my arms for very ease. How sweet will the contrast be between theblundering Jonathan and the courtly and accomplished Jessamy!

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

ACT III. SCENE I.

DIMPLE'S Room.

DIMPLE discovered at a Toilet, Reading.

"WOMEN have in general but one object, which is their beauty." Verytrue, my lord; positively very true. "Nature has hardly formed a womanugly enough to be insensible to flattery upon her person." Extremelyjust, my lord; every day's delightful experience confirms this. "Ifher face is so shocking that she must, in some degree, be conscious ofit, her figure and air, she thinks, make ample amends for it." Thesallow Miss Wan is a proof of this. Upon my telling the distastefulwretch, the other day, that her countenance spoke the pensive languageof sentiment, and that Lady Wortley Montague declared that if theladies were arrayed in the garb of innocence, the face would be thelast part which would be admired, as Monsieur Milton expresses it; shegrinn'd horribly, a ghastly smile. "If her figure is deformed, shethinks her face counterbalances it."

Enter JESSAMY with letters.

DIMPLE

Where got you these, Jessamy?

JESSAMY

Sir, the English packet is arrived.

DIMPLE opens and reads a letter enclosing notes.

"Sir,

"I have drawn bills on you in favour of Messrs. Van Cash and Co. asper margin. I have taken up your note to Col. Piquet, and dischargedyour debts to my Lord Lurcher and Sir Harry Rook. I herewith encloseyou copies of the bills, which I have no doubt will be immediatelyhonoured. On failure, I shall empower some lawyer in your country torecover the amounts.

"I am, Sir,
  "Your most humble servant,
    "JOHN HAZARD."

Now, did not my lord expressly say that it was unbecoming a well-bredman to be in a passion, I confess I should be ruffled. [Reads.]"There is no accident so unfortunate, which a wise man may not turn tohis advantage; nor any accident so fortunate, which a fool will notturn to his disadvantage." True, my lord; but how advantage can bederived from this I can't see. Chesterfield himself, who made,however, the worst practice of the most excellent precepts, was neverin so embarrassing a situation. I love the person of Charlotte, and itis necessary I should command the fortune of Letitia. As to Maria!—Idoubt not by my sang-froid behaviour I shall compel her to decline thematch; but the blame must not fall upon me. A prudent man, as my lordsays, should take all the credit of a good action to himself, and throwthe discredit of a bad one upon others. I must break with Maria, marryLetitia, and as for Charlotte—why, Charlotte must be a companion to mywife.—Here, Jessamy!

Enter JESSAMY.

DIMPLE folds and seals two letters.

DIMPLE

Here, Jessamy, take this letter to my love.

[Gives one.

JESSAMY

To which of your honour's loves?—Oh! [reading] to Miss Letitia, yourhonour's rich love.

DIMPLE

And this [delivers another] to Miss Charlotte Manly. See that youdeliver them privately.

JESSAMY

Yes, your honour. [Going.

DIMPLE

Jessamy, who are these strange lodgers that came to the house lastnight?

JESSAMY

Why, the master is a Yankee colonel; I have not seen much of him; butthe man is the most unpolished animal your honour ever disgraced youreyes by looking upon. I have had one of the most outre conversationswith him!—He really has a most prodigious effect upon my risibility.

DIMPLE

I ought, according to every rule of Chesterfield, to wait on him andinsinuate myself into his good graces.—Jessamy, wait on the colonelwith my compliments, and if he is disengaged I will do myself thehonour of paying him my respects.—Some ignorant, unpolished boor—

JESSAMY goes off and returns.

JESSAMY

Sir, the colonel is gone out, and Jonathan his servant says that he isgone to stretch his legs upon the Mall.—Stretch his legs! what anindelicacy of diction!

DIMPLE

Very well. Reach me my hat and sword. I'll accost him there, in myway to Letitia's, as by accident; pretend to be struck by his personand address, and endeavour to steal into his confidence. Jessamy, Ihave no business for you at present. [Exit.

JESSAMY [taking up the book].

My master and I obtain our knowledge from the same source;—though,gad! I think myself much the prettier fellow of the two. [Surveyinghimself in the glass.] That was a brilliant thought, to insinuate thatI folded my master's letters for him; the folding is so neat, that itdoes honour to the operator. I once intended to have insinuated that Iwrote his letters too; but that was before I saw them; it won't do now;no honour there, positively.—"Nothing looks more vulgar, [readingaffectedly] ordinary, and illiberal than ugly, uneven, and raggednails; the ends of which should be kept even and clean, not tipped withblack, and cut in small segments of circles."—Segments of circles!surely my lord did not consider that he wrote for the beaux. Segmentsof circles; what a crabbed term! Now I dare answer that my master,with all his learning, does not know that this means, according to thepresent mode, let the nails grow long, and then cut them off even attop. [Laughing without.] Ha! that's Jenny's titter. I protest Idespair of ever teaching that girl to laugh; she has something soexecrably natural in her laugh, that I declare it absolutelydiscomposes my nerves. How came she into our house! [Calls.] Jenny!

Enter JENNY.

JESSAMY

Prythee, Jenny, don't spoil your fine face with laughing.

JENNY

Why, mustn't I laugh, Mr. Jessamy?

JESSAMY

You may smile, but, as my lord says, nothing can authorise a laugh.

JENNY

Well, but I can't help laughing.—Have you seen him, Mr. Jessamy? ha,ha, ha!

JESSAMY

Seen whom?

JENNY

Why, Jonathan, the New England colonel's servant. Do you know he wasat the play last night, and the stupid creature don't know where he hasbeen. He would not go to a play for the world; he thinks it was ashow, as he calls it.

JESSAMY

As ignorant and unpolished as he is, do you know, Miss Jenny, that Ipropose to introduce him to the honour of your acquaintance?

JENNY

Introduce him to me! for what?

JESSAMY

Why, my lovely girl, that you may take him under your protection, asMadame Ramboulliet did young Stanhope; that you may, by your plastichand, mould this uncouth cub into a gentleman. He is to make love toyou.

JENNY

Make love to me!—

JESSAMY

Yes, Mistress Jenny, make love to you; and, I doubt not, when he shallbecome domesticated in your kitchen, that this boor, under yourauspices, will soon become un amiable petit Jonathan.

JENNY

I must say, Mr. Jessamy, if he copies after me, he will be vastly,monstrously polite.

JESSAMY

Stay here one moment, and I will call him.—Jonathan!—Mr.
Jonathan!—[Calls.]

JONATHAN [within]

Holla! there.—[Enters.] You promise to stand by me—six bows you say.
[Bows.]

JESSAMY

Mrs. Jenny, I have the honour of presenting Mr. Jonathan, ColonelManly's waiter, to you. I am extremely happy that I have it in mypower to make two worthy people acquainted with each other's merits.

JENNY

So, Mr. Jonathan, I hear you were at the play last night.

JONATHAN

At the play! why, did you think I went to the devil's drawing-room?

JENNY

The devil's drawing-room!

JONATHAN

Yes; why an't cards and dice the devil's device, and the play-house theshop where the devil hangs out the vanities of the world upon thetenter-hooks of temptation? I believe you have not heard how they wereacting the old boy one night, and the wicked one came among them sureenough, and went right off in a storm, and carried one quarter of theplay-house with him. Oh! no, no, no! you won't catch me at aplay-house, I warrant you.

JENNY

Well, Mr. Jonathan, though I don't scruple your veracity, I have somereasons for believing you were there: pray, where were you about sixo'clock?

JONATHAN

Why, I went to see one Mr. Morrison, the hocus pocus man; they said ashow he could eat a case knife.

JENNY

Well, and how did you find the place?

JONATHAN

As I was going about here and there, to and again, to find it, I saw agreat crowd of folks going into a long entry that had lantherns overthe door; so I asked a man whether that was not the place where theyplayed hocus pocus? He was a very civil, kind man, though he did speaklike the Hessians; he lifted up his eyes and said, "They play hocuspocus tricks enough there, Got knows, mine friend."

JENNY

Well—

JONATHAN

So I went right in, and they shewed me away, clean up to the garret,just like meeting-house gallery. And so I saw a bower of toppingfolks, all sitting round in little cabbins, "just like father'scorn-cribs"; and then there was such a squeaking with the fiddles, andsuch a tarnal blaze with the lights, my head was near turned. At lastthe people that sat near me set up such a hissing—hiss—like so manymad cats; and then they went thump, thump, thump, just like our Pelegthreshing wheat, and stampt away, just like the nation; and called outfor one Mr. Langolee,—I suppose he helps act the tricks.

JENNY

Well, and what did you do all this time?

JONATHAN

Gor, I—I liked the fun, and so I thumpt away, and hiss'd as lustily asthe best of 'em. One sailor-looking man that sat by me, seeing mestamp, and knowing I was a cute fellow, because I could make a roaringnoise, clapt me on the shoulder and said, "You are a d—-d hearty cock,smite my timbers!" I told him so I was, but I thought he need notswear so, and make use of such naughty words.

JESSAMY

The savage!—Well, and did you see the man with his tricks?

JONATHAN

Why, I vow, as I was looking out for him, they lifted up a great greencloth and let us look right into the next neighbor's house. Have you agood many houses in New-York made so in that 'ere way?

JENNY

Not many; but did you see the family?

JONATHAN

Yes, swamp it; I see'd the family.

JENNY

Well, and how did you like them?

JONATHAN

Why, I vow they were pretty much like other families;—there was apoor, good-natured, curse of a husband, and a sad rantipole of a wife.

JENNY

But did you see no other folks?

JONATHAN

Yes. There was one youngster; they called him Mr. Joseph; he talked assober and as pious as a minister; but, like some ministers that I know,he was a sly tike in his heart for all that. He was going to ask ayoung woman to spark it with him, and—the Lord have mercy on mysoul!—she was another man's wife.

JESSAMY

The Wabash!

JENNY

And did you see any more folks?

JONATHAN

Why, they came on as thick as mustard. For my part, I thought thehouse was haunted. There was a soldier fellow, who talked about hisrow de dow, dow, and courted a young woman; but, of all the cute folk Isaw, I liked one little fellow—

JENNY

Aye! who was he?

JONATHAN

Why, he had red hair, and a little round plump face like mine, only notaltogether so handsome. His name was—Darby;—that was his baptizingname; his other name I forgot. Oh! it was Wig—Wag—Wag-all, Darby Wag-all,—pray, do you know him?—I shouldlike to take a sling with him, or a drap of cyder with a pepper-pod init, to make it warm and comfortable.

JENNY

I can't say I have that pleasure.

JONATHAN

I wish you did; he is a cute fellow. But there was one thing I didn'tlike in that Mr. Darby; and that was, he was afraid of some of them'ere shooting irons, such as your troopers wear on training days. Now,I'm a true born Yankee American son of liberty, and I never was afraidof a gun yet in all my life.

JENNY

Well, Mr. Jonathan, you were certainly at the play-house.

JONATHAN

I at the play-house!—Why didn't I see the play then?

JENNY

Why, the people you saw were players.

JONATHAN

Mercy on my soul! did I see the wicked players?— Mayhap that 'ereDarby that I liked so was the old serpent himself, and had his clovenfoot in his pocket. Why, I vow, now I come to think on't, the candlesseemed to burn blue, and I am sure where I sat it smelt tarnally ofbrimstone.

JESSAMY

Well, Mr. Jonathan, from your account, which I confess is veryaccurate, you must have been at the play-house.

JONATHAN

Why, I vow, I began to smell a rat. When I came away, I went to theman for my money again; you want your money? says he; yes, says I; forwhat? says he; why, says I, no man shall jocky me out of my money; Ipaid my money to see sights, and the dogs a bit of a sight have I seen,unless you call listening to people's private business a sight. Why,says he, it is the School for Scandalization.—The School forScandalization!—Oh! ho! no wonder you New-York folks are so cute atit, when you go to school to learn it; and so I jogged off.

JESSAMY

My dear Jenny, my master's business drags me from you; would to heaven
I knew no other servitude than to your charms.

JONATHAN

Well, but don't go; you won't leave me so—

JESSAMY

Excuse me.—Remember the cash. [Aside to him, and—Exit.]

JENNY

Mr. Jonathan, won't you please to sit down? Mr. Jessamy tells me youwanted to have some conversation with me. [Having brought forward twochairs, they sit.]

JONATHAN

Ma'am!—

JENNY

Sir!—

JONATHAN

Ma'am!—

JENNY

Pray, how do you like the city, Sir?

JONATHAN

Ma'am!—

JENNY

I say, Sir, how do you like New-York?

JONATHAN

Ma'am!—

JENNY

The stupid creature! but I must pass some little time with him, if itis only to endeavour to learn whether it was his master that made suchan abrupt entrance into our house, and my young mistress's heart, thismorning. [Aside.] As you don't seem to like to talk, Mr. Jonathan—doyou sing?

JONATHAN Gor, I—I am glad she asked that, for I forgot what Mr.
Jessamy bid me say, and I dare as well be hanged as act what he bid me
do, I'm so ashamed. [Aside.] Yes, Ma'am, I can sing—I can sing Mear,
Old Hundred, and Bangor.

JENNY

Oh! I don't mean psalm tunes. Have you no little song to please theladies, such as Roslin Castle, or the Maid of the Mill?

JONATHAN

Why, all my tunes go to meeting tunes, save one, and I count you won'taltogether like that 'ere.

JENNY

What is it called?

JONATHAN

I am sure you have heard folks talk about it; it is called Yankee
Doodle.

JENNY

Oh! it is the tune I am fond of; and if I know anything of my mistress,she would be glad to dance to it. Pray, sing!

JONATHAN [Sings.]

  Father and I went up to camp,
  Along with Captain Goodwin;
  And there we saw the men and boys,
  As thick as hasty-pudding.
  Yankee doodle do, etc.

  And there we saw a swamping gun,
  Big as log of maple,
  On a little deuced cars,
  A load for father's cattle.
  Yankee doodle do, etc.
  And every time they fired it off
  It took a horn of powder,
  It made a noise—like father's gun,
  Only a nation louder.
  Yankee doodle do, etc.

  There was a man in our town,
  His name was—

No, no, that won't do. Now, if I was with Tabitha Wymen and JemimaCawley down at father Chase's, I shouldn't mind singing this all outbefore them—you would be affronted if I was to sing that, thoughthat's a lucky thought; if you should be affronted, I have somethingdang'd cute, which Jessamy told me to say to you.

JENNY

Is that all! I assure you I like it of all things.

JONATHAN

No, no; I can sing more; some other time, when you and I are betteracquainted, I'll sing the whole of it—no, no—that's a fib—I can'tsing but a hundred and ninety verses; our Tabitha at home can sing itall.—[Sings.]

  Marblehead's a rocky place,
  And Cape-Cod is sandy;
  Charlestown is burnt down,
  Boston is the dandy.
  Yankee doodle, doodle do, etc.

I vow, my own town song has put me into such topping spirits that Ibelieve I'll begin to do a little, as Jessamy says we must when we goa-courting.—[Runs and kisses her.] Burning rivers! cooling flames!red-hot roses! pig-nuts! hasty-pudding and ambrosia!

JENNY

What means this freedom? you insulting wretch. [Strikes him.]

JONATHAN

Are you affronted?

JENNY

Affronted! with what looks shall I express my anger?

JONATHAN

Looks! why as to the matter of looks, you look as cross as a witch.

JENNY

Have you no feeling for the delicacy of my sex?

JONATHAN

Feeling! Gor, I—I feel the delicacy of your sex pretty smartly[rubbing his cheek], though, I vow, I thought when you city ladiescourted and married, and all that, you put feeling out of the question.But I want to know whether you are really affronted, or only pretend tobe so? 'Cause, if you are certainly right down affronted, I am at theend of my tether; Jessamy didn't tell me what to say to you.

JENNY

Pretend to be affronted!

JONATHAN

Aye, aye, if you only pretend, you shall hear how I'll go to work tomake cherubim consequences. [Runs up to her.]

JENNY

Begone, you brute!

JONATHAN

That looks like mad; but I won't lose my speech. My dearestJenny—your name is Jenny, I think?—My dearest Jenny, though I havethe highest esteem for the sweet favours you have just now grantedme—Gor, that's a fib, though; but Jessamy says it is not wicked totell lies to the women. [Aside.] I say, though I have the highestesteem for the favours you have just now granted me, yet you willconsider that, as soon as the dissolvable knot is tied, they will nolonger be favours, but only matters of duty and matters of course.

JENNY

Marry you! you audacious monster! get out of my sight, or, rather, letme fly from you. [Exit hastily.]

JONATHAN

Gor! she's gone off in a swinging passion, before I had time to thinkof consequences. If this is the way with your city ladies, give me thetwenty acres of rock, the Bible, the cow, and Tabitha, and a littlepeaceable bundling.

SCENE II. The Mall.

Enter MANLY.

It must be so, Montague! and it is not all the tribe of Mandevillesthat shall convince me that a nation, to become great, must firstbecome dissipated. Luxury is surely the bane of a nation: Luxury!which enervates both soul and body, by opening a thousand new sourcesof enjoyment, opens, also, a thousand new sources of contention andwant: Luxury! which renders a people weak at home, and accessible tobribery, corruption, and force from abroad. When the Grecian statesknew no other tools than the axe and the saw, the Grecians were agreat, a free, and a happy people. The kings of Greece devoted theirlives to the service of their country, and her senators knew no othersuperiority over their fellow-citizens than a glorious pre-eminence indanger and virtue. They exhibited to the world a noble spectacle,—anumber of independent states united by a similarity of language,sentiment, manners, common interest, and common consent, in one grandmutual league of protection. And, thus united, long might they havecontinued the cherishers of arts and sciences, the protectors of theoppressed, the scourge of tyrants, and the safe asylum of liberty. Butwhen foreign gold, and still more pernicious foreign luxury, had creptamong them, they sapped the vitals of their virtue. The virtues oftheir ancestors were only found in their writings. Envy and suspicion,the vices of little minds, possessed them. The various statesengendered jealousies of each other; and, more unfortunately, growingjealous of their great federal council, the Amphictyons, they forgotthat their common safety had existed, and would exist, in giving theman honourable extensive prerogative. The common good was lost in thepursuit of private interest; and that people who, by uniting, mighthave stood against the world in arms, by dividing, crumbled intoruin;—their name is now only known in the page of the historian, andwhat they once were is all we have left to admire. Oh! that America!Oh! that my country, would, in this her day, learn the things whichbelong to her peace!

Enter DIMPLE.

DIMPLE

You are Colonel Manly, I presume?

MANLY

At your service, Sir.

DIMPLE

My name is Dimple, Sir. I have the honour to be a lodger in the samehouse with you, and, hearing you were in the Mall, came hither to takethe liberty of joining you.

MANLY

You are very obliging, Sir.

DIMPLE

As I understand you are a stranger here, Sir, I have taken the libertyto introduce myself to your acquaintance, as possibly I may have it inmy power to point out some things in this city worthy your notice.

MANLY An attention to strangers is worthy a liberal mind, and must everbe gratefully received. But to a soldier, who has no fixed abode, suchattentions are particularly pleasing.

DIMPLE

Sir, there is no character so respectable as that of a soldier. And,indeed, when we reflect how much we owe to those brave men who havesuffered so much in the service of their country, and secured to usthose inestimable blessings that we now enjoy, our liberty andindependence, they demand every attention which gratitude can pay. Formy own part, I never meet an officer, but I embrace him as my friend,nor a private in distress, but I insensibly extend my charity tohim.—I have hit the Bumkin off very tolerably.

[Aside.

MANLY

Give me your hand, Sir! I do not proffer this hand to everybody; butyou steal into my heart. I hope I am as insensible to flattery as mostmen; but I declare (it may be my weak side) that I never hear the nameof soldier mentioned with respect, but I experience a thrill ofpleasure which I never feel on any other occasion.

DIMPLE

Will you give me leave, my dear Colonel, to confer an obligation onmyself, by shewing you some civilities during your stay here, andgiving a similar opportunity to some of my friends?

MANLY

Sir, I thank you; but I believe my stay in this city will be very short.

DIMPLE

I can introduce you to some men of excellent sense, in whose companyyou will esteem yourself happy; and, by way of amusement, to some finegirls, who will listen to your soft things with pleasure.

MANLY

Sir, I should be proud of the honour of being acquainted with thosegentlemen;—but, as for the ladies, I don't understand you.

DIMPLE

Why, Sir, I need not tell you, that when a young gentleman is alonewith a young lady he must say some soft things to her faircheek—indeed, the lady will expect it. To be sure, there is not muchpleasure when a man of the world and a finished coquette meet, whoperfectly know each other; but how delicious is it to excite theemotions of joy, hope, expectation, and delight in the bosom of alovely girl who believes every tittle of what you say to be serious!

MANLY

Serious, Sir! In my opinion, the man who, under pretensions ofmarriage, can plant thorns in the bosom of an innocent, unsuspectinggirl is more detestable than a common robber, in the same proportion asprivate violence is more despicable than open force, and money of lessvalue than happiness.

DIMPLE

How he awes me by the superiority of his sentiments. [Aside.] As yousay, Sir, a gentleman should be cautious how he mentions marriage.

MANLY

Cautious, Sir! No person more approves of an intercourse between thesexes than I do. Female conversation softens our manners, whilst ourdiscourse, from the superiority of our literary advantages, improvestheir minds. But, in our young country, where there is no such thingas gallantry, when a gentleman speaks of love to a lady, whether hementions marriage or not, she ought to conclude either that he meant toinsult her or that his intentions are the most serious and honourable.How mean, how cruel, is it, by a thousand tender assiduities, to winthe affections of an amiable girl, and, though you leave her virtueunspotted, to betray her into the appearance of so many tenderpartialities, that every man of delicacy would suppress his inclinationtowards her, by supposing her heart engaged! Can any man, for thetrivial gratification of his leisure hours, affect the happiness of awhole life! His not having spoken of marriage may add to his perfidy,but can be no excuse for his conduct.

DIMPLE

Sir, I admire your sentiments;—they are mine. The light observationsthat fell from me were only a principle of the tongue; they came notfrom the heart; my practice has ever disapproved these principles.

MANLY

I believe you, Sir. I should with reluctance suppose that thosepernicious sentiments could find admittance into the heart of agentleman.

DIMPLE

I am now, Sir, going to visit a family, where, if you please, I willhave the honour of introducing you. Mr. Manly's ward, Miss Letitia, isa young lady of immense fortune; and his niece, Miss Charlotte Manly,is a young lady of great sprightliness and beauty.

MANLY

That gentleman, Sir, is my uncle, and Miss Manly my sister.

DIMPLE

The devil she is! [Aside.] Miss Manly your sister, Sir? I rejoice tohear it, and feel a double pleasure in being known to you.—Plague onhim! I wish he was at Boston again, with all my soul. [Aside.]

MANLY

Come, Sir, will you go?

DIMPLE

I will follow you in a moment, Sir. [Exit Manly.] Plague on it! thisis unlucky. A fighting brother is a cursed appendage to a fine girl.Egad! I just stopped in time; had he not discovered himself, in twominutes more I should have told him how well I was with his sister.Indeed, I cannot see the satisfaction of an intrigue, if one can't havethe pleasure of communicating it to our friends. [Exit.

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

CHARLOTTE'S Apartment.

CHARLOTTE leading in MARIA.

CHARLOTTE

THIS is so kind, my sweet friend, to come to see me at this moment. Ideclare, if I were going to be married in a few days, as you are, Ishould scarce have found time to visit my friends.

MARIA

Do you think, then, that there is an impropriety in it?—How should youdispose of your time?

CHARLOTTE

Why, I should be shut up in my chamber; and my head would so runupon—upon—upon the solemn ceremony that I was to pass through!—Ideclare, it would take me above two hours merely to learn that littlemonosyllable—Yes. Ah! my dear, your sentimental imagination does notconceive what that little tiny word implies.

MARIA Spare me your raillery, my sweet friend; I should love youragreeable vivacity at any other time.

CHARLOTTE

Why, this is the very time to amuse you. You grieve me to see you lookso unhappy.

MARIA

Have I not reason to look so?

CHARLOTTE

What new grief distresses you?

MARIA

Oh! how sweet it is, when the heart is borne down with misfortune, torecline and repose on the bosom of friendship! Heaven knows that,although it is improper for a young lady to praise a gentleman, yet Ihave ever concealed Mr. Dimple's foibles, and spoke of him as of onewhose reputation I expected would be linked with mine; but his lateconduct towards me has turned my coolness into contempt. He behaves asif he meant to insult and disgust me; whilst my father, in the lastconversation on the subject of our marriage, spoke of it as a matterwhich lay near his heart, and in which he would not bear contradiction.

CHARLOTTE

This works well; oh! the generous Dimple. I'll endeavour to excite herto discharge him. [Aside.] But, my dear friend, your happiness dependson yourself. Why don't you discard him? Though the match has been oflong standing, I would not be forced to make myself miserable: noparent in the world should oblige me to marry the man I did not like.

MARIA

Oh! my dear, you never lived with your parents, and do not know whatinfluence a father's frowns have upon a daughter's heart. Besides,what have I to alledge against Mr. Dimple, to justify myself to theworld? He carries himself so smoothly, that every one would impute theblame to me, and call me capricious.

CHARLOTTE

And call her capricious! Did ever such an objection start into theheart of woman? For my part, I wish I had fifty lovers to discard, forno other reason than because I did not fancy them. My dear Maria, youwill forgive me; I know your candour and confidence in me; but I haveat times, I confess, been led to suppose that some other gentleman wasthe cause of your aversion to Mr. Dimple.

MARIA

No, my sweet friend, you may be assured, that though I have seen manygentlemen I could prefer to Mr. Dimple, yet I never saw one that Ithought I could give my hand to, until this morning.

CHARLOTTE

This morning!

MARIA

Yes; one of the strangest accidents in the world. The odious Dimple,after disgusting me with his conversation, had just left me, when agentleman, who, it seems, boards in the same house with him, saw himcoming out of our door, and, the houses looking very much alike, hecame into our house instead of his lodgings; nor did he discover hismistake until he got into the parlour, where I was; he then bowed sogracefully, made such a genteel apology, and looked so manly andnoble!—

CHARLOTTE

I see some folks, though it is so great an impropriety, can praise agentleman, when he happens to be the man of their fancy. [Aside.]

MARIA

I don't know how it was,—I hope he did not think me indelicate,—but Iasked him, I believe, to sit down, or pointed to a chair. He sat down,and, instead of having recourse to observations upon the weather, orhackneyed criticisms upon the theatre, he entered readily into aconversation worthy a man of sense to speak, and a lady of delicacy andsentiment to hear. He was not strictly handsome, but he spoke thelanguage of sentiment, and his eyes looked tenderness and honour.

CHARLOTTE

Oh! [eagerly] you sentimental, grave girls, when your hearts are oncetouched, beat us rattles a bar's length. And so you are quite in lovewith this he-angel?

MARIA

In love with him! How can you rattle so, Charlotte? am I not going tobe miserable? [Sighs.] In love with a gentleman I never saw but onehour in my life, and don't know his name! No; I only wished that theman I shall marry may look, and talk, and act, just like him. Besides,my dear, he is a married man.

CHARLOTTE

Why, that was good-natured—he told you so, I suppose, in mere charity,to prevent you falling in love with him?

MARIA

He didn't tell me so; [peevishly] he looked as if he was married.

CHARLOTTE

How, my dear; did he look sheepish?

MARIA

I am sure he has a susceptible heart, and the ladies of hisacquaintance must be very stupid not to—

CHARLOTTE

Hush! I hear some person coming.

Enter LETITIA.

LETITIA

My dear Maria, I am happy to see you. Lud! what a pity it is that youhave purchased your wedding clothes.

MARIA

I think so. [Sighing.]

LETITIA

Why, my dear, there is the sweetest parcel of silks come over you eversaw! Nancy Brilliant has a full suit come; she sent over her measure,and it fits her to a hair; it is immensely dressy, and made for acourt-hoop. I thought they said the large hoops were going out offashion.

CHARLOTTE

Did you see the hat? Is it a fact that the deep laces round the borderis still the fashion?

DIMPLE within. Upon my honour, Sir.

MARIA

Ha! Dimple's voice! My dear, I must take leave of you. There aresome things necessary to be done at our house. Can't I go through theother room?

Enter DIMPLE and MANLY.

DIMPLE

Ladies, your most obedient.

CHARLOTTE

Miss Van Rough, shall I present my brother Henry to you? Colonel
Manly, Maria,—Miss Van Rough, brother.

MARIA

Her brother! [turns and sees Manly.] Oh! my heart! the very gentleman
I have been praising.

MANLY

The same amiable girl I saw this morning!

CHARLOTTE

Why, you look as if you were acquainted.

MANLY

I unintentionally intruded into this lady's presence this morning, forwhich she was so good as to promise me her forgiveness.

CHARLOTTE

Oh! ho! is that the case! Have these two penserosos been together?Were they Henry's eyes that looked so tenderly? [Aside.] And so youpromised to pardon him? and could you be so good-natured? have youreally forgiven him? I beg you would do it for my sake [whisperingloud to Maria]. But, my dear, as you are in such haste, it would becruel to detain you; I can show you the way through the other room.

MARIA

Spare me, my sprightly friend.

MANLY The lady does not, I hope, intend to deprive us of the pleasureof her company so soon.

CHARLOTTE

She has only a mantua-maker who waits for her at home. But, as I am togive my opinion of the dress, I think she cannot go yet. We weretalking of the fashions when you came in, but I suppose the subjectmust be changed to something of more importance now. Mr. Dimple, willyou favour us with an account of the public entertainments?

DIMPLE

Why, really, Miss Manly, you could not have asked me a question moremal-apropos. For my part, I must confess that, to a man who hastravelled, there is nothing that is worthy the name of amusement to befound in this city.

CHARLOTTE

Except visiting the ladies.

DIMPLE

Pardon me, Madam; that is the avocation of a man of taste. But foramusement, I positively know of nothing that can be called so, unlessyou dignify with that title the hopping once a fortnight to the soundof two or three squeaking fiddles, and the clattering of the old tavernwindows, or sitting to see the miserable mummers, whom you call actors,murder comedy and make a farce of tragedy.

MANLY

Do you never attend the theatre, Sir?

DIMPLE

I was tortured there once.

CHARLOTTE Pray, Mr. Dimple, was it a tragedy or a comedy?

DIMPLE

Faith, Madam, I cannot tell; for I sat with my back to the stage allthe time, admiring a much better actress than any there—a lady whoplayed the fine woman to perfection; though, by the laugh of the horridcreatures round me, I suppose it was comedy. Yet, on second thoughts,it might be some hero in a tragedy, dying so comically as to set thewhole house in an uproar. Colonel, I presume you have been in Europe?

MANLY

Indeed, Sir, I was never ten leagues from the continent.

DIMPLE

Believe me, Colonel, you have an immense pleasure to come; and when youshall have seen the brilliant exhibitions of Europe, you will learn todespise the amusements of this country as much as I do.

MANLY

Therefore I do not wish to see them; for I can never esteem thatknowledge valuable which tends to give me a distaste for my nativecountry.

DIMPLE

Well, Colonel, though you have not travelled, you have read.

MANLY

I have, a little; and by it have discovered that there is a laudablepartiality which ignorant, untravelled men entertain for everythingthat belongs to their native country. I call it laudable; it injuresno one; adds to their own happiness; and, when extended, becomes thenoble principle of patriotism. Travelled gentlemen rise superior, intheir own opinion, to this; but if the contempt which they contract fortheir country is the most valuable acquisition of their travels, I amfar from thinking that their time and money are well spent.

MARIA

What noble sentiments!

CHARLOTTE

Let my brother set out where he will in the fields of conversation, heis sure to end his tour in the temple of gravity.

MANLY

Forgive me, my sister. I love my country; it has its foiblesundoubtedly;—some foreigners will with pleasure remark them—but suchremarks fall very ungracefully from the lips of her citizens.

DIMPLE

You are perfectly in the right, Colonel—America has her faults.

MANLY

Yes, Sir; and we, her children, should blush for them in private, andendeavour, as individuals, to reform them. But, if our country has itserrors in common with other countries, I am proud to say America—Imean the United States—has displayed virtues and achievements whichmodern nations may admire, but of which they have seldom set us theexample.

CHARLOTTE

But, brother, we must introduce you to some of our gay folks, and letyou see the city, such as it is. Mr. Dimple is known to almost everyfamily in town; he will doubtless take a pleasure in introducing you.

DIMPLE

I shall esteem every service I can render your brother an honour.

MANLY

I fear the business I am upon will take up all my time, and my familywill be anxious to hear from me.

MARIA

His family! but what is it to me that he is married! [Aside.] Pray,how did you leave your lady, Sir?

CHARLOTTE

My brother is not married [observing her anxiety]; it is only an oddway he has of expressing himself. Pray, brother, is this business,which you make your continual excuse, a secret?

MANLY

No, sister; I came hither to solicit the honourable Congress, that anumber of my brave old soldiers may be put upon the pension-list, whowere, at first, not judged to be so materially wounded as to need thepublic assistance. My sister says true [to Maria]: I call my latesoldiers my family. Those who were not in the field in the lateglorious contest, and those who were, have their respective merits;but, I confess, my old brother-soldiers are dearer to me than theformer description. Friendships made in adversity are lasting; ourcountrymen may forget us, but that is no reason why we should forgetone another. But I must leave you; my time of engagement approaches.

CHARLOTTE

Well, but, brother, if you will go, will you please to conduct my fairfriend home? You live in the same street—I was to have gone with hermyself— [Aside]. A lucky thought.

MARIA I am obliged to your sister, Sir, and was just intending to go.
[Going.]

MANLY

I shall attend her with pleasure. [Exit with Maria, followed by Dimpleand Charlotte.]

MARIA

Now, pray, don't betray me to your brother.

CHARLOTTE

[Just as she sees him make a motion to take his leave.] One word withyou, brother, if you please. [Follows them out.

Manent, DIMPLE and LETITIA.

DIMPLE

You received the billet I sent you, I presume?

LETITIA

Hush!—Yes.

DIMPLE

When shall I pay my respects to you?

LETITIA

At eight I shall be unengaged.

Reenter CHARLOTTE.

DIMPLE

Did my lovely angel receive my billet? [to Charlotte.]

CHARLOTTE

Yes.

DIMPLE

At eight I shall be at home unengaged.

DIMPLE

Unfortunate! I have a horrid engagement of business at that hour.
Can't you finish your visit earlier and let six be the happy hour?

CHARLOTTE

You know your influence over me. [Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

VAN ROUGH'S House.

VAN ROUGH, alone.

IT cannot possibly be true! The son of my old friend can't have actedso unadvisedly. Seventeen thousand pounds! in bills! Mr. Transfermust have been mistaken. He always appeared so prudent, and talked sowell upon money matters, and even assured me that he intended to changehis dress for a suit of clothes which would not cost so much, and lookmore substantial, as soon as he married. No, no, no! it can't be; itcannot be. But, however, I must look out sharp. I did not care whathis principles or his actions were, so long as he minded the mainchance. Seventeen thousand pounds! If he had lost it in trade, whythe best men may have ill-luck; but to game it away, as Transfersays—why, at this rate, his whole estate may go in one night, and,what is ten times worse, mine into the bargain. No, no; Mary is right.Leave women to look out in these matters; for all they look as if theydidn't know a journal from a ledger, when their interest is concernedthey know what's what; they mind the main chance as well as the best ofus. I wonder Mary did not tell me she knew of his spending his moneyso foolishly. Seventeen thousand pounds! Why, if my daughter wasstanding up to be married, I would forbid the banns, if I found it wasto a man who did not mind the main chance.—Hush! I hear somebodycoming. 'Tis Mary's voice; a man with her too! I shouldn't besurprised if this should be the other string to her bow. Aye, aye, letthem alone; women understand the main chance.—Though, I' faith, I'lllisten a little. [Retires into a closet.

MANLY leading in MARIA.

MANLY

I hope you will excuse my speaking upon so important a subject soabruptly; but, the moment I entered your room, you struck me as thelady whom I had long loved in imagination, and never hoped to see.

MARIA

Indeed, Sir, I have been led to hear more upon this subject than Iought.

MANLY

Do you, then, disapprove my suit, Madam, or the abruptness of myintroducing it? If the latter, my peculiar situation, being obliged toleave the city in a few days, will, I hope, be my excuse; if theformer, I will retire, for I am sure I would not give a moment'sinquietude to her whom I could devote my life to please. I am not soindelicate as to seek your immediate approbation; permit me only to benear you, and by a thousand tender assiduities to endeavour to excite agrateful return.

MARIA

I have a father, whom I would die to make happy; he will disapprove—

MANLY

Do you think me so ungenerous as to seek a place in your esteem withouthis consent? You must—you ever ought to consider that man as unworthyof you who seeks an interest in your heart contrary to a father'sapprobation. A young lady should reflect that the loss of a lover maybe supplied, but nothing can compensate for the loss of a parent'saffection. Yet, why do you suppose your father would disapprove? Inour country, the affections are not sacrificed to riches or familyaggrandizement: should you approve, my family is decent, and my rankhonourable.

MARIA

You distress me, Sir.

MANLY

Then I will sincerely beg your excuse for obtruding so disagreeable asubject, and retire. [Going.

MARIA

Stay, Sir! your generosity and good opinion of me deserve a return; butwhy must I declare what, for these few hours, I have scarce sufferedmyself to think?—I am—

MANLY

What?

MARIA

Engaged, Sir; and, in a few days, to be married to the gentleman yousaw at your sister's.

MANLY

Engaged to be married! And have I been basely invading the rights ofanother? Why have you permitted this? Is this the return for thepartiality I declared for you?

MARIA

You distress me, Sir. What would you have me say? You are toogenerous to wish the truth. Ought I to say that I dared not suffermyself to think of my engagement, and that I am going to give my handwithout my heart? Would you have me confess a partiality for you? Ifso, your triumph is compleat, and can be only more so when days ofmisery with the man I cannot love will make me think of him whom Icould prefer.

MANLY [after a pause].

We are both unhappy; but it is your duty to obey your parent—mine toobey my honour. Let us, therefore, both follow the path of rectitude;and of this we may be assured, that if we are not happy, we shall, atleast, deserve to be so. Adieu! I dare not trust myself longer withyou. [Exeunt severally.

END OF THE FOURTH ACT.

ACT V. SCENE I.

DIMPLE'S Lodgings.

JESSAMY meeting JONATHAN.

JESSAMY

WELL, Mr. Jonathan, what success with the fair?

JONATHAN

Why, such a tarnal cross tike you never saw! You would have countedshe had lived upon crab-apples and vinegar for a fortnight. But whatthe rattle makes you look so tarnation glum?

JESSAMY

I was thinking, Mr. Jonathan, what could be the reason of her carryingherself so coolly to you.

JONATHAN

Coolly, do you call it? Why, I vow, she was fire-hot angry: may be itwas because I buss'd her.

JESSAMY

No, no, Mr. Jonathan; there must be some other cause; I never yet knewa lady angry at being kissed.

JONATHAN

Well, if it is not the young woman's bashfulness, I vow I can'tconceive why she shouldn't like me.

JESSAMY

May be it is because you have not the Graces, Mr. Jonathan.

JONATHAN

Grace! Why, does the young woman expect I must be converted before Icourt her?

JESSAMY

I mean graces of person: for instance, my lord tells us that we mustcut off our nails even at top, in small segments of circles—though youwon't understand that; in the next place, you must regulate your laugh.

JONATHAN

Maple-log seize it! don't I laugh natural?

JESSAMY

That's the very fault, Mr. Jonathan. Besides, you absolutely misplaceit. I was told by a friend of mine that you laughed outright at theplay the other night, when you ought only to have tittered.

JONATHAN

Gor! I—what does one go to see fun for if they can't laugh?

JESSAMY You may laugh; but you must laugh by rule.

JONATHAN

Swamp it—laugh by rule! Well, I should like that tarnally.

JESSAMY

Why, you know, Mr. Jonathan, that to dance, a lady to play with herfan, or a gentleman with his cane, and all other natural motions, areregulated by art. My master has composed an immensely pretty gamut, bywhich any lady or gentleman, with a few years' close application, maylearn to laugh as gracefully as if they were born and bred to it.

JONATHAN

Mercy on my soul! A gamut for laughing—just like fa, la, sol?

JEREMY

Yes. It comprises every possible display of jocularity, from anaffettuoso smile to a piano titter, or full chorus fortissimo ha, ha,ha! My master employs his leisure hours in marking out the plays, likea cathedral chanting-book, that the ignorant may know where to laugh;and that pit, box, and gallery may keep time together, and not have asnigger in one part of the house, a broad grin in the other, and ad—-d grum look in the third. How delightful to see the audience allsmile together, then look on their books, then twist their mouths intoan agreeable simper, then altogether shake the house with a general ha,ha, ha! loud as a full chorus of Handel's at an Abbey commemoration.

JONATHAN

Ha, ha, ha! that's dang'd cute, I swear.

JESSAMY

The gentlemen, you see, will laugh the tenor; the ladies will play thecounter-tenor; the beaux will squeak the treble; and our jolly friendsin the gallery a thorough base, ho, ho, ho!

JONATHAN

Well, can't you let me see that gamut?

JESSAMY

Oh! yes, Mr. Jonathan; here it is. [Takes out a book.] Oh! no, thisis only a titter with its variations. Ah, here it is. [Takes outanother.] Now, you must know, Mr. Jonathan, this is a piece written byBen Johnson, which I have set to my master's gamut. The places whereyou must smile, look grave, or laugh outright, are marked below theline. Now look over me. "There was a certain man"—now you must smile.

JONATHAN

Well, read it again; I warrant I'll mind my eye.

JESSAMY

"There was a certain man, who had a sad scolding wife,"—now you mustlaugh.

JONATHAN

Tarnation! That's no laughing matter though.

JESSAMY

"And she lay sick a-dying";—now you must titter.

JONATHAN

What, snigger when the good woman's a-dying! Gor, I—

JESSAMY

Yes, the notes say you must—"and she asked her husband leave to make awill,"—now you must begin to look grave;—"and her husband said"—

JONATHAN

Ay, what did her husband say? Something dang'd cute, I reckon.

JESSAMY

"And her husband said, you have had your will all your life-time, andwould you have it after you are dead, too?"

JONATHAN

Ho, ho, ho! There the old man was even with her; he was up to thenotch—ha, ha, ha!

JESSAMY

But, Mr. Jonathan, you must not laugh so. Why you ought to havetittered piano, and you have laughed fortissimo. Look here; you seethese marks, A, B, C, and so on; these are the references to the otherpart of the book. Let us turn to it, and you will see the directionshow to manage the muscles. This [turns over] was note D you blunderedat.—You must purse the mouth into a smile, then titter, discoveringthe lower part of the three front upper teeth.

JONATHAN

How? read it again.

JESSAMY

"There was a certain man"—very well!—"who had a sad scoldingwife,"—why don't you laugh?

JONATHAN

Now, that scolding wife sticks in my gizzard so pluckily that I can'tlaugh for the blood and nowns of me. Let me look grave here, and I'lllaugh your belly full, where the old creature's a-dying.

JESSAMY

"And she asked her husband"—[Bell rings.] My master's bell! he'sreturned, I fear.—Here, Mr. Jonathan, take this gamut; and I make nodoubt but with a few years' close application, you may be able to smilegracefully." [Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

CHARLOTTE'S Apartment.

Enter MANLY.

MANLY

WHAT, no one at home? How unfortunate to meet the only lady my heartwas ever moved by, to find her engaged to another, and confessing herpartiality for me! Yet engaged to a man who, by her intimation, andhis libertine conversation with me, I fear, does not merit her. Aye!there's the sting; for, were I assured that Maria was happy, my heartis not so selfish but that it would dilate in knowing it, even thoughit were with another. But to know she is unhappy!—I must drive thesethoughts from me. Charlotte has some books; and this is what I believeshe calls her little library. [Enters a closet.

Enter DIMPLE leading LETITIA.

LETITIA

And will you pretend to say now, Mr. Dimple, that you propose to breakwith Maria? Are not the banns published? Are not the clothespurchased? Are not the friends invited? In short, is it not a doneaffair?

DIMPLE

Believe me, my dear Letitia, I would not marry her.

LETITIA

Why have you not broke with her before this, as you all along deludedme by saying you would?

DIMPLE

Because I was in hopes she would, ere this, have broke with me.

LETITIA

You could not expect it.

DIMPLE

Nay, but be calm a moment; 'twas from my regard to you that I did notdiscard her.

LETITIA

Regard to me!

DIMPLE

Yes; I have done everything in my power to break with her, but thefoolish girl is so fond of me that nothing can accomplish it. Besides,how can I offer her my hand when my heart is indissolubly engaged toyou?

LETITIA

There may be reason in this; but why so attentive to Miss Manly?

DIMPLE

Attentive to Miss Manly! For heaven's sake, if you have no betteropinion of my constancy, pay not so ill a compliment to my taste.

LETITIA

Did I not see you whisper her to-day?

DIMPLE

Possibly I might—but something of so very trifling a nature that Ihave already forgot what it was.

LETITIA

I believe she has not forgot it.

DIMPLE

My dear creature, how can you for a moment suppose I should have anyserious thoughts of that trifling, gay, flighty coquette, thatdisagreeable—

Enter CHARLOTTE.

DIMPLE

My dear Miss Manly, I rejoice to see you; there is a charm in yourconversation that always marks your entrance into company as fortunate.

LETITIA

Where have you been, my dear?

CHARLOTTE

Why, I have been about to twenty shops, turning over pretty things, andso have left twenty visits unpaid. I wish you would step into thecarriage and whisk round, make my apology, and leave my cards where ourfriends are not at home; that, you know, will serve as a visit. Come,do go.

LETITIA

So anxious to get me out! but I'll watch you. [Aside.] Oh! yes, I'llgo; I want a little exercise. Positively [Dimple offering to accompanyher], Mr. Dimple, you shall not go; why, half my visits are cake andcaudle visits; it won't do, you know, for you to go. [Exit, butreturns to the door in the back scene and listens.]

DIMPLE

This attachment of your brother to Maria is fortunate.

CHARLOTTE

How did you come to the knowledge of it?

DIMPLE

I read it in their eyes.

CHARLOTTE

And I had it from her mouth. It would have amused you to have seenher! She, that thought it so great an impropriety to praise agentleman that she could not bring out one word in your favour, found aredundancy to praise him.

DIMPLE

I have done everything in my power to assist his passion there: yourdelicacy, my dearest girl, would be shocked at half the instances ofneglect and misbehaviour.

CHARLOTTE

I don't know how I should bear neglect; but Mr. Dimple must misbehavehimself indeed, to forfeit my good opinion.

DIMPLE

Your good opinion, my angel, is the pride and pleasure of my heart; andif the most respectful tenderness for you, and an utter indifferencefor all your sex besides, can make me worthy of your esteem, I shallrichly merit it.

CHARLOTTE

All my sex besides, Mr. Dimple!—you forgot your tete-a-tete with
Letitia.

DIMPLE

How can you, my lovely angel, cast a thought on that insipid,wry-mouthed, ugly creature!

CHARLOTTE

But her fortune may have charms?

DIMPLE

Not to a heart like mine. The man, who has been blessed with the goodopinion of my Charlotte, must despise the allurements of fortune.

CHARLOTTE

I am satisfied.

DIMPLE

Let us think no more on the odious subject, but devote the present hourto happiness.

CHARLOTTE

Can I be happy when I see the man I prefer going to be married toanother?

DIMPLE

Have I not already satisfied my charming angel, that I can never thinkof marrying the puling Maria? But, even if it were so, could that beany bar to our happiness? for, as the poet sings,

  "Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,
  Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies."

Come, then, my charming angel! why delay our bliss? The present momentis ours; the next is in the hand of fate. [Kissing her.]

CHARLOTTE

Begone, Sir! By your delusions you had almost lulled my honour asleep.

DIMPLE

Let me lull the demon to sleep again with kisses. [He struggles withher; she screams.]

Enter MANLY.

MANLY

Turn, villain! and defend yourself.—[Draws.]

[VAN ROUGH enters and beats down their swords.]

VAN ROUGH

Is the devil in you? are you going to murder one another? [Holding
Dimple.]

DIMPLE

Hold him, hold him,—I can command my passion.

Enter JONATHAN.

JONATHAN

What the rattle ails you? Is the old one in you? Let the colonelalone, can't you? I feel chock-full of fight,—do you want to kill thecolonel?—

MANLY

Be still, Jonathan; the gentleman does not want to hurt me.

JONATHAN

Gor! I—I wish he did; I'd shew him Yankee boys play, prettyquick.—Don't you see you have frightened the young woman into thehystrikes?

VAN ROUGH

Pray, some of you explain this; what has been the occasion of all thisracket?

MANLY

That gentleman can explain it to you; it will be a very diverting storyfor an intended father-in-law to hear.

VAN ROUGH

How was this matter, Mr. Van Dumpling?

DIMPLE

Sir,—upon my honour,—all I know is, that I was talking to this younglady, and this gentleman broke in on us in a very extraordinary manner.

VAN ROUGH

Why, all this is nothing to the purpose; can you explain it, Miss? [To
Charlotte.]

Enter LETITIA through the back scene.

LETITIA

I can explain it to that gentleman's confusion. Though long betrothedto your daughter [to Van Rough], yet, allured by my fortune, it seems(with shame do I speak it) he has privately paid his addresses to me.I was drawn in to listen to him by his assuring me that the match wasmade by his father without his consent, and that he proposed to breakwith Maria, whether he married me or not. But, whatever were hisintentions respecting your daughter, Sir, even to me he was false; forhe has repeated the same story, with some cruel reflections upon myperson, to Miss Manly.

JONATHAN

What a tarnal curse!

LETITIA

Nor is this all, Miss Manly. When he was with me this very morning, hemade the same ungenerous reflections upon the weakness of your mind ashe has so recently done upon the defects of my person.

JONATHAN

What a tarnal curse and damn, too!

DIMPLE

Ha! since I have lost Letitia, I believe I had as good make it up with
Maria. Mr. Van Rough, at present I cannot enter into particulars; but,
I believe, I can explain everything to your satisfaction in private.

VAN ROUGH

There is another matter, Mr. Van Dumpling, which I would have youexplain. Pray, Sir, have Messrs. Van Cash & Co. presented you thosebills for acceptance?

DIMPLE

The deuce! Has he heard of those bills! Nay, then, all's up withMaria, too; but an affair of this sort can never prejudice me among theladies; they will rather long to know what the dear creature possessesto make him so agreeable. [Aside.] Sir, you'll hear from me. [ToManly.]

MANLY

And you from me, Sir—

DIMPLE

Sir, you wear a sword—

MANLY

Yes, Sir. This sword was presented to me by that brave Gallic hero,the Marquis De la Fayette. I have drawn it in the service of mycountry, and in private life, on the only occasion where a man isjustified in drawing his sword, in defence of a lady's honour. I havefought too many battles in the service of my country to dread theimputation of cowardice. Death from a man of honour would be a gloryyou do not merit; you shall live to bear the insult of man and thecontempt of that sex whose general smiles afforded you all yourhappiness.

DIMPLE

You won't meet me, Sir? Then I'll post you for a coward.

MANLY I'll venture that, Sir. The reputation of my life does notdepend upon the breath of a Mr. Dimple. I would have you to know,however, Sir, that I have a cane to chastise the insolence of ascoundrel, and a sword and the good laws of my country to protect mefrom the attempts of an assassin—

DIMPLE

Mighty well! Very fine, indeed! Ladies and gentlemen, I take myleave; and you will please to observe in the case of my deportment thecontrast between a gentleman who has read Chesterfield and received thepolish of Europe and an unpolished, untravelled American.[Exit.

Enter MARIA.

MARIA

Is he indeed gone?—

LETITIA

I hope, never to return.

VAN ROUGH

I am glad I heard of those bills; though it's plaguy unlucky; I hopedto see Mary married before I died.

MANLY

Will you permit a gentleman, Sir, to offer himself as a suitor to yourdaughter? Though a stranger to you, he is not altogether so to her, orunknown in this city. You may find a son-in-law of more fortune, butyou can never meet with one who is richer in love for her, or respectfor you.

VAN ROUGH

Why, Mary, you have not let this gentleman make love to you without myleave?

MANLY

I did not say, Sir—

MARIA

Say, Sir!—I—the gentleman, to be sure, met me accidentally.

VAN ROUGH

Ha, ha, ha! Mark me, Mary; young folks think old folks to be fools;but old folks know young folks to be fools. Why, I knew all about thisaffair. This was only a cunning way I had to bring it about. Hark ye!I was in the closet when you and he were at our hours. [Turns to thecompany.] I heard that little baggage say she loved her old father,and would die to make him happy! Oh! how I loved the little baggage!And you talked very prudently, young man. I have inquired into yourcharacter, and find you to be a man of punctuality and mind the mainchance. And so, as you love Mary and Mary loves you, you shall have myconsent immediately to be married. I'll settle my fortune on you, andgo and live with you the remainder of my life.

MANLY

Sir, I hope—

VAN ROUGH

Come, come, no fine speeches; mind the main chance, young man, and youand I shall always agree.

LETITIA I sincerely wish you joy [advancing to Maria]; and hope yourpardon for my conduct.

MARIA

I thank you for your congratulations, and hope we shall at once forgetthe wretch who has given us so much disquiet, and the trouble that hehas occasioned.

CHARLOTTE

And I, my dear Maria,—how shall I look up to you for forgiveness? I,who, in the practice of the meanest arts, have violated the most sacredrights of friendship? I can never forgive myself, or hope charity fromthe world; but, I confess, I have much to hope from such a brother; andI am happy that I may soon say, such a sister.

MARIA

My dear, you distress me; you have all my love.

MANLY

And mine.

CHARLOTTE

If repentance can entitle me to forgiveness, I have already much merit;for I despise the littleness of my past conduct. I now find that theheart of any worthy man cannot be gained by invidious attacks upon therights and characters of others;—by countenancing the addresses of athousand;—or that the finest assemblage of features, the greatesttaste in dress, the genteelest address, or the most brilliant wit,cannot eventually secure a coquette from contempt and ridicule.

MANLY

And I have learned that probity, virtue, honour, though they should nothave received the polish of Europe, will secure to an honest Americanthe good graces of his fair countrywomen, and, I hope, the applause ofTHE PUBLIC.

THE END.

NOTES.

[1] In addition to the 'Prince of Parthia,' the following plays byAmerican authors are known to have been printed:

1. 'The Suspected Daughter, or Jealous Father,' a Farce in threeacts, both serious and comic, written by T. T. Boston, 1751.

2. 'The Disappointment, or The Force of Credulity,' a new AmericanComic Opera of two acts, by Andrew Barton, Esq. New-York, 1767.

3. 'The Conquest of Canada, or Siege of Quebec, a Historic Tragedy,'by George Cockings. Philadelphia, 1772.

4. 'The Adulateur,' a tragedy; and

5. 'The Group,' a Political Comedy, 1775; both by Mrs. Mercy Warren.

6. 'The Blockheads, or the Affrighted Officers,' a Farce. Boston,1776.

7. 'The Battle of Bunker Hill,' a dramatic piece, in five acts.Philadelphia, 1776; and

8. 'The Death of General Montgomery in storming the City of Quebec,'a Tragedy. Philadelphia, 1777; both by H. H. Brackenridge.

9. 'The Patriot Chief,' a Drama, by Peter Markoe. Philadelphia, 1783.

10. 'Edwin and Angelina, or The Banditti,' an Opera in three acts, byDr. Elihu H. Smith. New-York, 1787.

[2] Dunlap erroneously gives the date of the first performance of the'Contrast' as in 1786, and writers generally following him make thesame mistake. Ireland in his 'Records' gives the date correctly.

[3] Tyler, in addition to the plays and law reports mentioned, wroteand published the following works:

1. 'The Algerine Captive, or The Life and Adventures of Doctor UpdikeUnderhill, six years a prisoner among the Algerines.' 2 vols. Walpole,N. H., 1797.

2. 'Moral Tales for American Youths.' Boston, 1800.

3. 'The Yankey in London; a series of Letters written by an AmericanYouth during nine months' residence in the City of London.' New-York,1809.

He also contributed to a number of newspapers of his period, and acollection of his contributions (with those of Joseph Dennie) werepublished in a volume, at Walpole, in 1801, entitled 'The Spirit of theFarmers' Museum and Lay Preachers' Gazette.'

[4] On October 16th, 1778, the Continental Congress passed thefollowing resolution:

"Whereas, frequenting play-houses and theatrical entertainments has afatal tendency to divest the minds of the people from a due attentionto the means necessary to the defence of their Country and preservationof their liberties;

"Resolved, That any person holding an office under the United Stateswho shall act, promote, encourage or attend such play, shall be deemedunworthy to hold such office, and shall be accordingly dismissed."

T. J. McK.

Related articles