Flo. A good many steps, Miss.-Run away.-Here we are, cooped up, like two distressed damsels in a romance, persecuted by a couple of-not enchanters indeed!-Sir Marmaduke Metaphor and his servant, Billy Bombast. Mar. Nay, Flora, 'tis past a jest. Flo. 'Tis enough to provoke one, to see the conceited knight approach you with a compliment in form, mood, and figure. Then that chattering play-actor, Billy Bombast." Good morning, Madam Flora !-permit me to salute your fair hand, Madam Flora!" Indeed, more than once, Madam Flora's fair hand longed to salute him! Mar. Heigho!That agreeable rake, Captain Wing'em! Flo. Lackaday! - That bewitching rogue, Corporal Jeremy! Ah! if the truant were here, I should almost be inclined to forgive him. AIR.-FLORA. (TUNE." When the hollow drum.”) The wheels run round, And crack goes the whip so cheerily. To join their hands, And they drive along so merrily! Let the turnpike gates be open'd wide, What can they do, Their horses lag so wearily? Cupid sly Stands quizzing by, And laughs in his sleeve so merrily. When a happy pair, to cure the spleen, The wheels run round, And crack goes the whip so cheerily— Soon join their hands, And they drive away so merrily. [Exeunt, L. SCENE III-A Street in Bath. Enter CAPTAIN Wing'em, r. Capt. Welcome, dear delightful Bath! thou scene of gaiety, fashion, and intrigue !-Now to open the campaign. Hah! who comes this way? 'Tis my whimsical acquaintance, Sir Marmaduke Metaphor, sporting his antiquated figure between two pretty women. Ha! ha ha! He looks for all the world like the Fool of Fashion bound in old calf! How gracefully he takes his leave too: with a bow that might be reckoned fashionable in Queen Elizabeth's time. Enter Sir MARMADUKE METAPHOR, L. Sir M. Charming, delectable creatures!-Soh, Captain Wing'em-satirical puppy! [Aside.] Capt. [Aside.] Pedantic coxcomb! Sir M. [Aside] Must rub off a little of my college rust, or he'll be quizzing me. Fine weather for recruiting, Captain! Delightful season for love, logic, and all that eh? Capt. Here's a transformation !-the pedant aping the beau! Sir M. I suppose, Bob, you're at your old pranks again? You hav'nt come to Bath for nothing-maids, widows, wives-all fair game-poaching, captain, poaching. Capt. You must know, Sir Marmaduke, that I'm about to take out a license to sport upon the manor of matrimony. Sir M. Matrimony!-He! he he!—With whom, may I make bold to inquire? Capt. A divine creature! young and beautiful! formed with exquisite symmetry, and rising just above the middle size. Sir M. Not a huge folio, but something between an octavo and a duodecimo. Capt. Then, she has sparkling eyes, a fair complexion, dimpled cheeks, bewitching smiles, with such a blush! Sir M. Egad, she's a charmer! and very much resembles the lady whom I am going to marry. Capt. What have you taken a trip to Bath upon a matrimonial expedition, too? Sir M. Don't start so, Bob. Is it so very surprising that I should take a fancy to a lady? Capt. No; but it's very surprising that a lady should take a fancy to you. Sir M. I suppose I'm not beau enough? because, forsooth, I don't follow the fashions. Capt. Yes, you do follow 'em; but you're a dev'lish long way behind! And do you really intend to be married in that coat? Sir M. Undoubtedly. You would'nt have me be married without one! Capt. And how long may you have been in love? Sir M. Six weeks, and better! I would'nt be without love for the world, it makes one so sweetly melancholy. I'm a lucky dog, Captain; I'm a fortunate youth! The preliminaries are settled, and we only want the minister to ratify the treaty. Capt. Of peace, I hope. Matrimony, you know, is famous for squalls. Sir M. But not for civil wars-eh, captaiu? Capt. Perhaps, you will favour me with the fair lady's name? Sir M. Delicacy forbid! Well, it won't be the first conquest that I've effected. There was the rich wine-merchant's daughter, of Portsoken Ward, would occasionally smirk at me! and the dashing shoemaker's widow to boot, now and then levelled her sparklers at my physiognomy! Courtship's a charming thing! and so is matrimony! Sir Steeple and the widow Glib for that! AIR. SIR MARMADUKE. (TUNE." Heigho!' says Rowley.") Sir Steeple he courted the queer Widow Glib- He knew she was rich, and he wanted to crib A comical beau was Sir Steeple. Her purse it was long, though her person was short- And her beauty was none of the ravishing sort, Their mingling, jingling, Soon set a tingling The sensitive heart of Sir Steeple. Now love, in return, the fair widow enthrals, They gadded together to concerts and balls, Winking and blinking, The fair Mrs. Glib and Sir Steeple. They trotted to church, for their passion increas'd— "Your wife's rather short."-"You are right, master priest; But, in choosing two evils, I've chosen the least!" Off march'd Widow Glib and Sir Steeple. [Bombast is heard singing without "O rare, Manager Strut!"] Sir M. Here comes my amanuensis, Billy Bombast. The fellow was formerly a strolling player. I took him just in time to save his whole wardrobe from the pawnbroker's. Enter BOMBAST, L. Bomb. O my prophetic soul! my uncle! Sir M You see, he's riding the high horse, as usual. Bomb. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times. Sir M. And a thousand to that, I'll be sworn. Billy Bombast, I say! Bomb. Cousin of Buckingham, I greet ye! Sir M. Don't cousin me, Billy, or I shall greet you with a cudgel. Bomb. Cudgel thy brains! Sir M. He's crazy. We must have his head shav'd. Bomb. [Sings.] Four-and-twenty perriwigs all of a row! The truth is, sir, I have just met some old acquaintances, and I'm half mad with joy. There are Peregrine Truncheon, Jack Spangle, and the property-man, with the wardrobe, scenery, and machinery, all arriv'd together in a cart. Sir M. My stars! the players in a cart! Bomb. The manager is in a bitter taking. The sea has lost six of its waves, by the carelessness of a rogue of a chamberlain, who set it on fire; the dragon wants a wing and two claws; the drop-scene is ready to drop to pieces; and the waterfall, having sprung a leak, is likely to produce an overflowing house. They have still a mustardbowl to make thunder, and the landlord of the Half Moon has promised 'em some aquavitæ for lightning. Sir M. But the ladies, Billy,—the ladies. Bomb. Bless their dear souls! they arrived safe; but not without some adventures. Mrs. Aurelia Angelica Truncheon, by the upsetting of the vehicle, dropped into the mire, while that interesting little personage, Master Alphonso Peregrine Truncheon, the young heir-apparent, partook of the disaster; my old favourite, Betty Ranter, travelling in the basket of the Opposition Fly, and fatigued by her exertions the preceding night, in the characters of Desdemona, Columbine, and Moll Flaggon, soon tumbled into the arms of Somnus, when, dreaming about Othello, she suddenly caught a fat Quaker round the neck, and exclaim'd-" Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee !" Sir M. How fortunate! I intend, upon my weddingnight, to have a new tragedy of my own performed, for the entertainment of the company, and these players shall form part of the Dramatis Persona. You, Billy, as first fiddle, must step forward with an elegant air, a bow, and a smirk -thus:-"Ladies and Gentlemen,-To-morrow evening will be perfomed a new tragedy: to which will be added the farce of Matrimony.' Bomb. Not a musical one! Capt. The whole to conclude with the "Devil to Pay." Bomb. I'll speak the prologue, the posey to the ring, dress'd in a full suit of sables,-for "Without black velvet breeches-what is man?" Then the advertisements! Last night, Mr. Bombast appeared in the character of Don Miraculo Mustachio, in Sir Marmaduke Metaphor's new tragedy, called "The Amiable Assassin"-his awfully-grand-terrific-transcendant-sublime and superlative success, absolutely astonished and electrified the audience. Capt. Bravo, Mr. Bombast! bravo! But, Sir Mariaduke, how do you begin this new tragedy of yours? Sir M. I flatter myself the opening is fine!The king C |