SIR, Dedications are the only fashions in the world that are more disliked for being universal; and the reason is, that they very seldom fit the persons they were made for; but I hope to avoid the common obloquy in this address, by laying aside the poet in everything but the dramatic decorum of suiting my character to the person. From the part of Mirabel in this play, and another character in one of my former, people are willing to compliment my performance in drawing a gay, splendid, generous, easy, fine young gentleman. My genius, I must confess, has a bent to that kind of description; and my veneration for you, Sir, may pass for unquestionable, since in all these happy accomplishments, you come so near to my darling character, abating his inconstancy. What an unspeakable blessing is youth and fortune, when a happy understanding comes in, to moderate the desires of the first, and to refine upon the advantages of the latter; when a gentleman is master of all pleasures, but a slave to none; who has travelled, not for the curiosity of the sight, but for the improvement of the mind's eye; and who returns full of everything but himself!-An author might say a great deal more, but a friend, Sir, nay an enemy, must allow you this. I shall here, Sir, meet with two obstacles, your modesty and your sense; the first as a censor upon the subject, the second as a critic upon the style. But I am obstinate in my purpose, and will maintain what I say to the last drop of my pen; which I may the more boldly undertake, having all the world on my side; nay, I have your very self against you; for by declining to hear your own merit, your friends are authorised the more to proclaim it. Your generosity and easiness of temper is not only obvious in your common affairs and conversation, but more plainly evident in your darling amusement, that opener and dilater of the mind, music;-from your affection for this delightful study, we may deduce the pleasing harmony that is apparent in all your actions: and be assured, Sir, that a person must be possessed of a very divine soul, who is so much in love with the entertainment of angels. From your encouragement of music, if there be any poetry here, it has a claim, by the right of kindred, to your favour and affection. You were pleased to honour the representation of this play with your appearance at several times, which flattered my hopes that there might be something in it which your good-nature might excuse. With the honour I here intend for myself, I likewise consult the interest of my nation, by showing a person that is so much a reputation and credit to my country. Besides all this, I was willing to make a handsome compliment to the place of my pupilage; by informing the world that so fine a gentleman had the seeds of his education in the same university, and at the same time with, Sir, your most faithful, and most humble servant, G. FARQUHAR. PREFACE. To give you the history of this play would but cause the reader and the writer a trouble to no purpose; I shall only say that I took the hint from Fletcher's "Wild-Goose Chase;" and to those who say, that I have spoiled the original, I wish no other injury, but that they would say it again. As to the success of it, I think 'tis but a kind of Cremona business, I have neither lost nor won. I pushed fairly, but the French were prepossessed, and the charms of Gallic heels were too hard for an English brain; but I am proud to own, that I have laid my head at the ladies' feet. The favour was unavoidable, for we are a nation so very fond of improving our understanding, that the instructions of a play does no good, when it comes in competition with the moral of minuet. Pliny tells us in his "Natural History," of elephants that were taught to dance on the ropes; if this could be made practicable now, what a number of subscriptions might be had to bring the Great Mogul out of Fleet-street, and make him dance between the acts! I remember, that about two years ago, I had a gentleman from France that brought the playhouse some fifty audiences in five months; then why should I be surprised to find a French lady do as much? "Tis the prettiest way in the world of despising the French king, to let him see that we can afford money to bribe away his dancers, when be, poor man, has exhausted all his stock, in buying of some pitiful towns and principalities: cum multis aliis. What can be a greater compliment to our generous nation, than to have the lady, upon her retour to Paris, boast of their splendid entertainment in England, of the complaisance, liberality, and good-nature of a people, that thronged her house so full that she had not room to stick a pin; and left a poor fellow, that had the misfortune of being one of themselves, without one farthing, for half a year's pains that he had taken for their entertainment! There were some gentlemen in the pit the first night, that took the hint from the prologue to damn the play; but they made such a noise in the execution, that the people took the outcry for a reprieve; so that the darling mischief was overlaid by their over-fondness of the changeling. 'Tis somewhat hard, that gentlemen should debase themselves into a faction of a dozen, to stab a single person, who never had the resolution to face two men at a time; if he has had the misfortune of any misunderstanding with a particular person, he has had a particular person to answer it. But these sparks would be remarkable in their resentment; and if anybody falls under their displeasure, they scorn to call him to a particular account, but will very honourably burn his house, or pick his pocket. The New-house has perfectly made me a convert by their civility on my sixth night; for, to be friends, and revenged at the same time, I must give them a play, that is,-when I write another. For faction runs so high, that I could wish the senate would suppress the houses, or put in force the act against bribing elections; that house which has the most favours to bestow, will certainly carry it, spite of all poetical justice that would support t'other. I have heard some people so extravagantly angry at this play, that one would think they had no reason to be displeased at all; whilst some (otherwise men of good sense) have commended it so much, that I was afraid they ridiculed me; so that between both, I am absolutely at a loss what to think on't; for though the cause has come on six days successively, yet the trial, I fancy, is not determined. When our devotion to Lent, and our lady, is over, the business will be brought on again, and then shall we have fair play for our money. There is a gentleman of the first understanding, and a very good critic, who said of Mr. Wilks, that in this part be out-acted himself, and all men that he ever saw. I would not rob Mr. Wilks, by a worse expression of mine, of a compli ment that he so much deserves. I had almost forgot to tell you, that the turn of plot in the last act, is an adventure of Chevalier de Chastillon in Paris, and matter of fact; but the thing is so universally known, that I think this advice might have been spared, as well as all the rest of the preface, for any good it will do either to me or the play. LIKE hungry guests, a sitting audience looks: Bawdy's fat venison, which, though stale, can Your rakes love hauts-goûts, like your damn'd Your rarity for the fair guest to gape on, Or your French virgin-pullet, garnish'd round, An opera, like an oglio, nicks the age; And tragi-comedy, half fish half flesh. Yet since each mind betrays a different taste, SCENE I.-A Street. Enter DUGARD and PETIT. Dug. Sirrah, what's o'clock ? ACT I. Dug. No more! We have rid a swinging pace from Nemours since two this morning! Petit, run to Rousseau's, and bespeak a dinner at a louisd'or a head, to be ready by one. Pet. How many will there be of you, sir? Dug. Let me see; Mirabel one, Duretete two; myself three Pet. And I four. Dug. How now, sir, at your old travelling familiarity! When abroad, you had some freedom for want of better company; but among my friends at Paris pray remember your distance.-Begone, sir! -[Exit PETIT.] This fellow's wit was necessary abroad, but he's too cunning for a domestic; I must dispose of him some way else.-Who's here? Old Mirabel, and my sister! Enter Old MIRABEL and ORIANA. My dearest sister! Ori. My brother! welcome! see you. Old Mir. Honest Mr. Dugard, by the blood of the Mirabels I'm your most humble servant. Dug. Why, sir, you cast your skin sure! you're brisk and gay, lusty health about you, no sign of age but your silver hairs. Old Mir. Silver hairs! then they are quicksilver hairs, sir. Whilst I have golden pockets, let my hairs be silver an they will. Adsbud, sir, I can dance, and sing, and drink, and-no, I can't wench. But, Mr. Dugard, no news of my son Bob in all your travels? Dug. Your son's come home, sir. Old Mir. Come home! Bob come home? By the blood of the Mirabels, Mr. Dugard, what say ye? Ori. Mr. Mirabel returned, sir? Dug. He's certainly come, and you may see him within this hour or two. Old Mir. Swear it, Mr. Dugard, presently swear it. Dug. Sir, he came to town with me this morning, I left him at the bagnieur's, being a little disordered after riding, and I shall see him again presently. Old Mir. What! and he was ashamed to ask blessing with his boots on? A nice dog! Well, and how fares the young rogue, ha? Dug. A fine gentleman, sir. messenger. He'll be his own Old Mir. A fine gentleman! But is the rogue like me still? Dug. Why yes, sir; he's very like his mother, and as like you as most modern sons are to their fathers. Old Mir. Why, sir, don't you think that I begat him? Dug. Why yes, sir; you married his mother, and he inherits your estate. He's very like you, upon my word. Ori. And pray, brother, what's become of his honest companion, Duretete? Dug. Who, the captain? The very same, he went abroad; he's the only Frenchman I ever knew that could not change.-Your son, Mr. Mirabel, is more obliged to nature for that fellow's composition than for his own; for he's more happy in Duretete's folly than his own wit. In short, they are as inseparable as finger and thumb, but the first instance in the world, I believe, of opposition in friendship. Old Mir. Very well; will he be home to dinner, think ye? Dug. Sir, he has ordered me to bespeak a dinner for us at Rousseau's at a louis-d'or a head. Old Mir. A louis-d'or a head! Well said, Bob; by the blood of the Mirabels, Bob's improved. But, Mr. Dugard, was it so civil of Bob to visit monsieur Rousseau before his own natural father? eh ! -Heark'ee Oriana, what think you now, of a fellow that can eat and drink ye a whole louis-d'or at a sitting? He must be as strong as Hercules; life and spirit in abundance. Before Gad I don't wonder at these men of quality, that their own wives can't serve 'em! A louis-d'or a head!-'tis enough to stock the whole nation with bastards, 'tis faith.-Mr. Dugard, I leave you with your sister. [Exit. Dug. Well, sister, I need not ask you how you do, your looks resolve me; fair, tall, well-shaped ; you're almost grown out of my remembrance. Ori. Why, truly, brother, I look pretty well, thank nature and my toilet; I have 'scaped the jaundice, green-sickness, and the small-pox; I eat three meals a day, and very merry when up, and sleep soundly when I'm down. Dug. But, sister, you remember that upon my going abroad you would choose this old gentleman for your guardian; he's no more related to our family than Prester John, and I have no reason to think you mistrusted my management of your fortune, therefore pray be so kind as to tell me without reservation the true cause of making such a choice. Ori. Look'ee, brother, you were going a rambling, and 'twas proper lest I should go a rambling too, that somebody should take care of me. Old monsieur Mirabel is an honest gentleman, was our father's friend, and has a young lady in his house, whose company I like, and who has chosen him for her guardian as well as I. Dug. Who, mademoiselle Bisarre ? Ori. The same; we live merrily together, without scandal or reproach; we make much of the old gentleman between us, and he takes care of us; we eat what we like, go to bed when we please, rise when we will, all the week we dance and sing, and upon Sundays go first to church and then to the play. Now, brother, besides these motives for choosing this gentleman for my guardian, perhaps had some private reasons. Dug. Not so private as you imagine, sister; your love to young Mirabel; no secret I can assure Ori. O' my word then, my friends are very bashful; though I'm afraid, sir, that those people are not ashamed enough at their own crimes, who have so many blushes to spare for the faults of their neighbours. Dug. Ay, but sister, the people say Ori. Psha, hang the people! they'll talk treason, and profane their Maker; must we therefore infer that our king is a tyrant, and religion a cheat? Look'ee, brother, their court of inquiry is a tavern, and their informer claret. They think as they drink, and swallow reputations like loches: a lady's health goes briskly round with the glass, but her honour is lost in the toast. Dug. Ay, but sister, there is still somethingOri. If there be something, brother, 'tis none of the people's something; marriage is my thing, and I'll stick to't. Dug. Marriage! young Mirabel marry! he'll build churches sooner. Take heed, sister, though your honour stood proof to his home-bred assaults, you must keep a stricter guard for the future; he has now got the foreign air and the Italian softness, his wit's improved by converse, his behaviour finished by observation, and his assurance confirmed by success. Sister, I can assure you he has made his conquests; and 'tis a plague upon your sex, to be the soonest deceived by those very men that you know have been false to others. Ori. Then why will you tell me of his conquests? for I must confess there is no title to a woman's favour so engaging as the repute of a handsome dissimulation. There is something of a pride to see a fellow lie at our feet, that has triumphed over so many; and then, I don't know, we fancy he must have something extraordinary about him to please us, and that we have something engaging about us to secure him, so we can't be quiet, till we put ourselves upon the lay of being both disappointed. Dug. But then, sister, he's as fickle Ori. For Gad's sake, brother, tell me no more of his faults, for if you do I shall run mad for him. Say no more, sir, let me but get him into the bands of matrimony, I'll spoil his wandering, I'll warrant him. I'll do his business that way, never fear. Dug. Well, sister, I won't pretend to understand the engagements between you and your lover; I expect, when you have need of my counsel or assistance, you will let me know more of your affairs. Mirabel is a gentleman, and as far as my honour and interest can reach, you may command me to the furtherance of your happiness. In the mean time, sister, I have a great mind to make you a present of another humble servant; a fellow I took up at Lyons, who has served me honestly ever since. Ori. Then why will you part with him? Dug. He has gained so insufferably on my good-humour, that he's grown too familiar; but the fellow's cunning, and may be serviceable to you in your affair with Mirabel. Here he comes. Re-enter PETIT. Well, sir, have you been at Rousseau's? Pet. Yes, sir; and who should I find there but Mr. Mirabel and the captain, hatching as warmly over a tub of ice as two hen-pheasants over a brood. They would let me bespeak nothing, for they had dined before I came. Dug. Come, sir, you shall serve my sister: I shall still continue kind to you, and if your lady recommends your diligence upon trial, I'll use my interest to advance you; you have sense enough to expect preferment. Here, sirrah, here's ten guineas for thee, get thyself a drugget suit and a puff-wig, and so-I dub thee gentleman usher.Sister, I must go put myself in repair, you may expect me in the evening.-Wait on your lady home, Petit. Pet. A chair! a chair! a chair! [Erit. [Calls. Ori. No, no, I'll walk home, 'tis but next door. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-A Tavern. Young MIRABEL and Captain DURETETE are discovered rising from table. Young Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, my dear captain; we have eat heartily, drank roundly, paid plentifully, and let it go for once. I liked everything but our women, they looked so lean and tawdry, poor creatures! 'Tis a sure sign the army is not paid.-Give me the plump Venetian, brisk and sanguine, that smiles upon me like the glowing sun, and meets my lips like sparkling wine, her person shining as the glass, and spirit like the foaming liquor. Dur. Ay, Mirabel, Italy I grant you; but for our women here in France, they are such thin, brawn-fallen jades, a man may as well make a beilfellow of a cane chair. Young Mir. France! a light, unseasoned country, nothing but feathers, foppery, and fashions; we're fine indeed, so are our coach-horses; men say we're courtiers, men abuse us; that we are wise and politic, non credo, signor: that our women have wit-parrots, mere parrots !-assurance and a good memory sets them up.-There's nothing on this side the Alps worth my humble service t'ye.-Ha! Roma la Santa, Italy for my money; their customs, gardens, buildings, paintings, music, policies, wine, and women! the paradise of the world. Not pestered with a parcel of precise, old gouty fellows, that would debar their children every pleasure that they themselves are past the sense of; commend me to the Italian familiarity -Here son; there's fifty crowns, go pay your whore her week's allowance. Dur. Ay, these are your fathers for you, that understand the necessities of young men; not like our musty dads who, because they cannot fish themselves, would muddy the water, and spoil the sport of them that can. But now you talk of the plump, what d'ye think of a Dutch woman? Young Mir. A Dutch woman!-too compact, nay, everything among 'em is so; a Dutch man is thick, a Dutch woman is squab, a Dutch horse is round, a Dutch dog is short, a Dutch ship is broad-bottomed; and, in short, one would swear the whole products of the country were cast in the same mould with their cheeses. Dur. Ay, but, Mirabel, you have forgot the English ladies. Young Mir. The women of England were excellent, did they not take such unsufferable pains to ruin what nature has made so incomparably well; they would be delicate creatures indeed, could they but thoroughly arrive at the French mien, or entirely let it alone; for they only spoil a very good air of their own by an awkward imitation of ours; their parliaments and our tailors give laws to their three kingdoms. But come, Duretete, let us mind the business in hand, mistresses we must have, and must take up with the manufacture of the place; and, upon a competent diligence, we shall find those in Paris shall match the Italians from top to toe. Dur. Ay, Mirabel, you will do well enough, but what will become of your friend; you know I am so plaguy bashful, so naturally an ass upon these occasions, that Young Mir. Psha, you must be bolder, man! Travel three years, and bring home such a baby as bashfulness! A great lusty fellow ! and a soldier! fy upon't! Dur. Look'ee, sir, I can visit, and I can ogle a little, as thus, or thus now. Then I can kiss abundantly, and make a shift to-but, if they chance to give me a forbidding look, as some women, you know, have a devilish cast with their eyes, or, if they cry-What d'ye mean? what d'ye take me for ? Fy, sir! remember who I am, sir.-A person of quality to be used at this rate! -Egad, I'm struck as flat as a frying-pan. Young Mir. Words o' course! never mind 'em, turn you about upon your heel with a janty air; hum out the end of an old song; cut a cross caper, and at her again. Dur. [Imitates him.] No, hang it, 'twill never do !-Oons, what did my father mean by sticking me up in a university, or to think that I should gain anything by my head, in a nation whose genius lies all in their heels! Well, if ever I come to have children of my own, they shall have the education of the country, they shall learn to dance before they can walk, and be taught to sing before they speak. Young Mir. Come, come, throw off that childish humour, put on assurance, there's no avoiding it; stand all hazards, thou'rt a stout lusty fellow, and hast a good estate; look bluff, Hector, you have a good side-box face, a pretty impudent face; So, that's 's pretty well.-[Aside.] This fellow went abroad like an ox, and is returned like an ass. Dur. Let me see now, how I look.-[Pulls out a pocket-glass, and looks on't.] A side-box face, say you!-Egad, I don't like it, Mirabel.-Fy, sir! don't abuse your friends, I could not wear such a face for the best countess in Christendom. Young Mir. Why, can't you, blockhead, as well as I? Dur. Why, thou hast impudence to set a good face upon anything; I would change half my gold for half thy brass, with all my heart.-Who comes here? Odso, Mirabel, your father! Enter Old MIRABEL. Old Mir. Where's Bob, dear Bob? Old Mir. My blessing! Damn ye, you young rogue; why did not you come to see your father first, sirrah? My dear boy, I am heartily glad to see thee, my dear child, faith! - Captain Duretete, by the blood of the Mirabels, I'm yours.-Well, my lads, ye look bravely, i'faith.-Bob, hast got any money left? Young Mir. Not a farthing, sir. Old Mir Why, then, I won't gi'thee a souse. Young Mir. Sir, I did but jest, here's ten pistoles. Old Mir. Why, then, here's ten more; I love to be charitable to those that don't want it.-Well, and how d'ye like Italy, my boys? Young Mir. Oh, the garden of the world, sir! Rome, Naples, Venice, Milan, and a thousand others-all fine. Old Mir. Ay, say you so! And they say that Chiari is very fine too. Dur. Indifferent, sir, very indifferent: a very scurvy air, the most unwholesome to a French constitution in the world. Young Mir. Psha, nothing on't! these rascally Gazetteers have misinformed you. Old Mir. Misinformed me! Oons, sir, were not we beaten there? Young Mir. Beaten, sir! the French beater Old Mir. Why, how was it, pray, sweet sir? Young Mir. Sir, the captain will tell you. Dur. No, sir, your son will tell you. Young Mir. The captain was in the action, sir. Dur. Your son saw more than I, sir, for he was a looker-on. Old Mir. Confound ye both for a brace of cowards! here are no Germans to overhear you; why don't ye tell me how it was? Young Mir. Why, then, you must know, that we marched up a body of the finest, bravest, welldressed fellows in the universe: our commanders at the head of us, all lace and feather, like so many beaux at a ball.-I don't believe there was a man of 'em but could dance a Charmer, morbleu ! Old Mir. Dance! very well, pretty fellows, faith! Young Mir. We capered up to their very trenches, and there saw peeping over a parcel of scarecrow, olive-coloured, gunpowdered fellows, as ugly as the devil. Dur. Egad, I shall never forget the looks of 'em while I have breath to fetch. Young Mir. They were so civil indeed as to welcome us with their cannon; but, for the rest, we found 'em such unmannerly, rude, unsociable dogs, that we grew tired of their company, and so we e'en danced back again. Old Mir. And did ye all come back? Young Mir. No, two or three thousand of us stayed behind. Old Min Why, Bob, why? Young Mir. Psha!- because they could not come that night. But, come, sir, we were talking of something else; pray how does your lovely charge, the fair Oriana? Old Mir. Ripe, sir, just ripe; you'll find it better engaging with her than with the Germans, let me tell you. And what would you say, my young Mars, if I had a Venus for thee too?--Come, Bob, your apartment is ready, and, pray, let your friend be my guest too; you shall command the house between ye, and I'll be as merry as the best of you. Young Mir. Bravely said, father!Let misers bend their age with niggard cares, And starve themselves to pamper hungry heirs ; Who, living, stint their sons what youth may crave And make 'em revel o'er a father's grave. The stock on which I grew, does still dispense Its genial sap into the blooming branch; The fruit, he knows, from his own root is grown, And therefore soothes those passions once his own, [Exeuni |