Page images

body you've been on your travels.—Sir George

-my fon!

Sir George. (bowing.) Sir, I'm very proud of the honour.

Gingham. Sir, I'm very proud of—(bowing up to bim, and spying at his chitterlin.)-right India muslin, by all that's—mum!

Sir George. You've been a great traveller, fir, much abroad !

Gingham. Abroad !-yes, fir-I was seldom at home-generally at the West End, for between ourselves, though I was brought up to trade, I always despis’d the warehouse-always pshaw!

Sir Paul. (taking him aside.) Zounds !--mind what you're at-consider, if you talk as my son, about linens and the warehouse, they'll take your father for a tradesman ; they'll say I'm a haberdasher, knighted on a city address.

Gingham. A haberdasher!-that's a good one, a very good one-upon my soul, Sir George, my father isn't such a fool, as you take him for-no --that he isn't—are you, father?

Lady Sarah Savage. (without.) When Mr. Flush comes, Thew him up stairs.

Sir George. Here's your intended wife, fir'gad! I hope it will be a match, for Lady Sarah is so anxious for a, husband, that in the scramble, she might seize me at last-come, Sir Paul- let's leave the happy pair together.

Sir Paul. Now, remember what I told you Lady Sarah is the effence of fashion and good breeding; and if you want to polish, and rub off the city-ruft, imitate her-copy her elegant manners.

Sir George. Ay: she's the rage !-and, if he wants to secure her affections, bid him imitate

his father, Sir Paul-copy you, and he must fucceed with the women.

Sir Paul. Ay, that he must, Sir George there's not a girl at Newmarket, not a dancer at the opera, nor a finger at the ancient concert, but adores me—they treat me with the same respect they would a father-they say, I'm so quiet -fo inoffensive-fo harmless.

Ging bam. Harmless! do they say you're harmless, father?

Sir Paul. Ay, harmless; and under that idea, I've done more mischief than any ten dangerous men in Europe-So, copy her manners, and success to you, my boy!

[Exit with Sir George. Gingham. Bravo! these are fine times, Mafter Gingham,—but will they last ?-is there no trick play'd, or to be play'd thee ?—Sir Paul I'm told has a way of disguising himself in women's clothes, surely this is'nt another mafquerading affair--Ah! here's spouse !--now to imitate her fashionable manners.

[ocr errors]

Enter Lady Sarah Savage. Lady Sarah. Marry him, I will ; because in the first place, there's a scarcity of husbands ; and in the next, being his wife, secures Sir Paul's fortune, and makes Darnley for ever in my pow'r-besides, I can draw the youth into all my schemes-hem !

Gingham. Hem ! (imitating ber.) If this is a woman of fashion, the breed is grown pretty bold I think

Lady Sarah. I must show him my spirit-terrify him before marriage, in order to tame

him after. (Going towards him wriggling ber head.)

Gingham. (Going towards her wriggling bis head.)
Lady Sarah. Give me a chair !

(Staring full in his face.)
Gingham. A chair, ma'am ?
Lady Sarah. Yes, a chair, fir.

Gingham. (Staring full in her face.) Essence of breeding !—The's the essence of brass ! (brings her a chair.) 'A chair, ma'am.

Lady Sarah. (Staring vacantly.) He little knows what a life I shall lead him.

Gingham. (Shews alarm.) Heh!-a chair, , ma'am ?-here's a chair I say—(loudly.)

Lady Sarah. Oh, I forgot-I am really so absent-(fits down.) he ! he! he!

(Spying in his face.) Gingham. (fitting down.) Are you really ? he! he! he ! -I Îhould like to—(mimicking) imitate her manners : hang me if I dare-The has set me all in a tremble-pheugh ! (Puffing himself with his hat, and drawing his chair from ber.)

Lady Sarah. Look up, my hero ! (Napping bim.) You can't think how I rejoice at your being design'd for the army. I'm of a military, martial turn myself, and shall serve every campaign

Gingham. You serve campaigns !-I wish I was out of the room-pheugh! (aside.)

Lady Sarah. I shall make an excellent foldier-a dauntless warrior ! --and if you talk of little unfledg’d fluttering ensigns, look at me, look !-(Jhaking him.) march wheel about !-left !- make ready !--present !-fire!


[ocr errors]

with you.

Gingham. (Looking first at her feet, then at her beud.) It is-it is an impostor !-ugh! (whistles.)

Ludy Sarah. Shan't I make a warlike appearance! animate one army, and intimidate another? restore the name of Amazon-revive the age of chivalry, and if there are fools that threaten, and cowards that dread an invasion; Oh! how the thought fires me !-(rises.)-give me a few champions like myself, and we'll stand on our white cliffs, and scare away whole nations.

Gingham. Damme, it's another man in woman's clothes ! don't agitate yourself-be compos'd-(to her as be walks about.) what would I give to be snug behind the counter ?

Lady Sarah. I am no timid helpless woman; I can shoot-I can fence-flourish a sword, or fire off a musket!-penetrate your sword arm at the first thrust, or lodge a bullet in


forehead at forty yards.

Gingham. Keep cool--my hero, keep cool ! Oh! it's a clear case-it's a man, and here am I to rub off the ruft, by being run through the body! sit down my fine fellow! sit down.

Lady Sarah. Fine fellow!

Gingham. Ay, I see how it is—Sir Paul has adopted me out of joke, and you are to make mince meat of me for my vanity!

Lady Sarah). Why, what is all this! (smiling.) mince meat!

Gingham. He smiles! then the joke's at an end, and they don't mean to hurt me! give me your hand—you comical dog, give me your hand.

Lady Sarah. Comical dog! what do you mean? explain.


I 2

Gingham. Explain! nay: that's too baddo you think I don't know you, my jolly boy ?-do you think I can't see you are a gentleman ?

Lady Sarab. What ! I a gentleman ?

Gingham. Ay, and a brave one too !-why I suspected you at first sight!—I saw there was nothing feminine about you, and then when I looked you full in the face, “pooh,” says I, this can never be a woman.

Lady Sarah. Not a woman !-have I studied modern fashions-exceeded all the present race of high-spirited women-only to be mistaken for-Oh Lord! I never wept before in all my life-but this--Oh, I shall faint-Qb, Oh! (Sits in a chair weeping.)

Enter FLUSH.

Fluss. My rascal of a son has gone off with all my papers-Darnley's note among the number-and though Lady Sarah would give twice the value for it, I cannot find him

Gingham. (advancing to him.) Hush-not so so loud father--he'll flourish a sword-fire off a musket!

Flus. He !-who?--but how came you here, fir? in this disguise too!

Gingham. Phoo!--it isn't me that's disguis’d. A word-(whispers to him.)—there! (pointing to Lady Sarah Savage.)

Fluß. What, that lady? Gingham. No; that comical dog—I'm sure of it-muin!

Fluß). Ha, ha, ha !--you blockhead! why it's Lady Sarah Savage! The's rather masculine to be


« PreviousContinue »