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5.–Fielding Lovegold. Where have you been ? I have wanted
above an hour.
James. Whom do you want, sir,-your coachman or your cook? for I am both one and t'other.
Love. I want my cook.
James. I thought, indeed, it was not your coachman; for you have had no great occasion for him since your last pair of horses were starved; but your cook, sir, shall wait upon you in an instant. (Puts off his coachman's great-coat and appears as a cook.) Now, sir, I am ready for your commands.
Love. I am engaged this evening to give a supper.
James. A supper, sir! I have not heard the word this half year; a dinner, indeed, now and then; but for a supper, I'm almost afraid, for want of practice, my hand is out.
Love. Leave off your saucy jesting, and see that you provide a good supper.
James. That may be done with a good deal of money, sir.
Love. Is the mischief in you ? Always money! Can you say nothing else but money, money, money? My children, my servants, my relations, can pronounce nothing but money.
James. Well, sir; but how many will there be at table ?
Love. About eight or ten; but I will have a supper dressed but for eight; for if there be enough for eight, there is enough for ten.
James. Suppose, sir, at one end, a handsome soup; at the other, a fine Westphalia ham and chickens; on one side, a fillet of veal; on the other, a turkey, or rather a bustard, which may be had for about a guinea
Love. Zounds! is the fellow providing an entertainment for my lord-mayor and the court of aldermen? James. "Then a ragout
Love. I'll have no ragout. Would you burst the good people, you dog ? James. Then pray, sir,
will have ? Love.. Why, see and provide something to cloy their stomachs : let there be two good dishes of soup—maigre ; a large suet-pudding; some dainty fat pork-pie, very fat; a fine small lean breast of mutton, and a large dish with two artichokes. There; that's plenty and variety.
James. Oh, dear-
Love. Plenty and variety.
James. Mercy! sir, how the folks will talk of it; indeed, people say enough of you already.
Love. "Eh! why what do the people say, pray?
Love. Not at all; for I'm always glad to hear what the world
says James. Why, sir, since you will have it then, they make a jest of you every where; nay, of your servants, on your account. One says, you pick a quarrel with them quarterly, in order to find an excuse to pay them no wages.
Love. Poh! poh!
James. Another says, you were taken one night stealing your own oats from your own horses.
Love. That must be a lie ; for I never allow them any.
James. In a word, you are the by-word every where; and you are never mentioned, but by the names of covetous, stingy, scraping, old
Love. Get along, you impudent villain!
ALDERMAN SMUGGLER-SIR HARRY WILDAIR-JOHN.-Anony
Sir Harry. Dear Mr. Alderman, I'm your most devoted and humble servant.
Alderman Smuggler. My best friend, Sir Harry, you're welcome to England.
Sir H. I'll assure you, sir, there's not a man in the king's dominions I am gladder to meet, dear, dear Mr. Alderman. (Bowing very low.)
Ald. S. Oh! my good sir, you travelers have the kindest, the most obliging ways with you.
Sir H. There is a business, Mr. Alderman, fallen out, which you may oblige me infinitely by-I am very sorry that I am forced to be troublesome; but necessity, Mr. Alderman
Ald. S. Ay, sir, as you say, necessity-But upon my word, dear sir, I am very short of money at present, but
Sir H. That's not the matter, sir ; I'm above an obligation that way; but the business is, I'm reduced to an indispensable necessity of being obliged to you for a beating. Here, take
Ald. S. A beating, Sir Harry! ha, ha, ha! I beat a knight baronet! An alderman turned cudgel-player ! ha, ha, ha!
Sir H. Upon my word, sir, you must beat me, or I'll beat you; take
choice. Ald. S. Psha! psha! you jest.
Sir H. Nay, 'tis sure as fate; so my dear, dear Mr. Alderman, I hope you'll pardon my curiosity. (Strikes him.)
Ald. S. Curiosity! Deuce take your curiosity, sir. What d'ye mean?
Sir H. Nothing at all. I'm but in jest, good sir.
Ald. S. Oh! I can take any thing in jest; but a man might imagine, by the smartness of the stroke, that you were in downright earnest.
Sir H. Not in the least, sir ; (Strikes him.) not in the least, indeed, dear sir.
Ald. S. Pray, good sir, no more of your jests; for they are the bluntest jests that I ever knew.
Sir H. (Strikes him.) I heartily beg your pardon, with all my heart, sir.
Ald. S. Pardon, sir! well sir, that is satisfaction enough from a gentleman : but seriously now, Sir Harry, if you pass any more of your jests upon me, I shall grow angry.
Sir H. I humbly beg your permission to break one or two more. (Srikes him.)
Ald. S. Oh! oh! sir, you'll certainly break my bones. Are you mad, sir ? John! John! murder, felony, manslaughter, murder! (Runs about.)
Sir H. Sir, I beg you ten thousand pardons; but I am absolutely compelled to it, upon my honor, sir; nothing can be more averse to my inclination, than to jest with my honest, dear, loving, obliging.friend, the alderman. (Striking him all the time.)
(Enter John.) John. Oh! goodness! Sir Harry's murdering the poor old
Ald. S. Oh! John, oh! John, I have been beaten in jest, till I am almost murdered in good earnest.
John. * Oh! for charity's sake, Sir Harry, remember what you are doing—forbear sir, or I'll raise the neighborhood. (Aside.) Though, to tell the truth, the old rogue richly deserves it, and for my part I enjoy the joke. (Sir #. takes snuff.)
H. Ald. s. Now, sir, I will have amends, sir, before I leave the place, sir ; how durst you use me thus ?
Sir H. Sir ?
that I will have satisfaction. Sir H. Oh! sir, with all my heart. (Throws snuff in his eyes.)
Ald. S. Oh! murder, blindness, fire! oh! John, John! get me some water! water, fire, water! (Exit with John.)
Sir H. How pleasant is resenting an injury without passion ! 'tis the beauty of revenge.
Let statesmen plot, and under business groan,
STRANGER-O'CALLAGHAN.-Sedley. Stranger. I have lost my way, good friend; can you assist me in finding it ?
O'Callaghan. Assist you in finding it, sir? ay, by my faith and troth, and that I will, if it was to the world's end and further too.
Str. I wish to return by the shortest route to the Black Rock.
O’Cal. Indade, and you will, so plase your honor's honorand O’Callaghan's own self shall show you the way, and then you can't miss it, you know.
Str. I would not give you so much trouble, Mr. O'Callaghan.
O’Cal. It is never a trouble, so plase your honor, for an Irishman to do his duty. (Bowing.)
Str. Whither do you travel, friend ?
O‘Cal. To Dublin, so plase your honor-sure all the world knows that Judy O'Flannaghan will be married to-morrow, God willing, to Pat Ryan ; and Pat, you know, is my own fosterbrother,-because why, we had but one nurse betwane us, and that was my own mother—but she died one day, the Lord rest her swate soul! and left me an orphan, for my father married again, and his new wife was the devil's own child, and did nothing but bate me from morning till night-Och, why did I not die before I was born to see that day, for, by St. Patrick, the woman's heart was as cold as a hailstone.
Str. But what reason could she have for treating you so unmercifully, Mr. O'Callaghan ?
O’Cal. Ah, your honor, and sure enough there are always rasons as plenty as pratees for being hardhearted. And I was no bigger than a dumpling at the time, so I could not help myself, and my father did not care to help me, and so I hopped the twig, and parted old Nick's darling; och, may the devil find her wherever she goes.-But here I am alive and lapeing, and going to see Pat married ; and faith, to do him justice, he's as honest a lad as any within ten miles of us, and no disparagement neither,—and I love Pat, and I love all his family, ay, by my shoul do I, every mother's skin of them and by the same token, I have traveled many a long mile to be present at his wedding.
Str. Your miles in Ireland are much longer than ours, I believe.
O’Cal. Indade, and you may belave that, your honor, because why, St. Patrick measured them in his coach, you know. Och, by the powers !—the time has been—but, 'tis no matter, not a single copper at all at all now belongs to the family—but as I was saying, the day has been, ay, by my troth and the night too, when the O'Callaghans, good luck to them, held their heads up as high as the best; and though I have not a rod of land belonging to me, but what I hire, I love my country, and would halve my last pratee with every poor creature that has none.
Str. Pray how does the bride appear, Mr. O'Callaghan?
O’Cal. Och, by my shoul, your honor, she's a nate articleand then she will be rigged out as gay as a lark and as fine as a peacock; because why, she has a great lady for her godmother, long life and success to her, who has given Judy two milch cows, and five pounds in hard money—and Pat has taken as dacent apartments as any in Dublin—a nate comely parlor as you'd wish to see, just six fate under ground, with a nice beautiful ladder to go down—and all so complate and gentale, and comfortable as a body may say
Str. Nothing like comfort, Mr. O'Callaghan.
O’Cal. Faith, and you may say that, your honor. (Rubbing his hands.) Comfort is comfort
, says I to Mrs. O'Callaghan, when we are all sated so cleverly around a great big turf fire, as merry as grigs, with the dear little grunters snoring so swately in the corner, defying wind and weather, with a dry thatch, and a sound conscience to go to slape upon
Str. A good conscience makes a soft pillow.
O‘Cal. Och, jewel, sure it is not the best beds that make the best slapers ; for there's Kathleen and myself can slape like