SCENE I.

NAY, nay, though thy name be Face, and thou hadſt a face of braſs, thou ſhalt not out-face me.

Then muſt I be unable to handle a moſt excel⯑lent ſubject; tho' ſhame and thee have long ſince parted, I will ſo anatomize that calf's head of thine.—

Calf's head! Blood of my life, I have a mind to mark my reſentment in ſuch legible characters up⯑on that Tyburn viſage of thine, as will put thy features in mourning.

Come on then, ſee whoſe ſtomach will bear brui⯑ſing beſt; I'll tickle thoſe pampered ſides.

A poor, ignorant, impertinent, ungrateful wretch; whoſe life, to my diſgrace be it ſpoken, I have ſaved—vile emblem of an empty caſk, much ſound, no contents, canſt thou forget the mouldy cruſts, Suffolk cheeſe, and dead ſmall beer, on which thou wert ſtarving in common with bare-ribbed rats and limping mice?

Mighty well, mighty well, maſter Subtle.

Have I not made thee an occaſional captain, am I not filling thy pockets as well as thy belly; have I not taught thee, dull as thou art, to con⯑verſe with, and impoſe on various degrees of man⯑kind? have I not from the ſtupideſt ſlave that ever marred common ſenſe ſharpened thy wit, ſmoothed thy tongue, poliſhed thy manners, regulated thy features, to make thee capable of thriving in life, and this treatment, my hopeful recompence?

Not ſo faſt, not ſo faſt, maſter glib-tongue, give eccho fair play—I do indeed confeſs myſelf indebted to thee for being a thriving pupil in the noble ſci⯑ence of knavery, of which I admit thee an able profeſſor; but as motives conſtitute, or deſtroy ob⯑ligation, I aſk what were thine? to ſtrengthen and further thy own iniquitous deſigns; and if thou [3] talk'ſt of favour I can bring a powerful balance on my ſide, to ſilence your modeſt worſhip.

With contempt I defy thee.

Nay, then my tongue ſhall ſo buffet thee, that thou ſhalt think half Billingſgate, the ſeat of thy education, let looſe about thy ears, and ſhrink back that knave's face of thine like a ſnail into its ſhell.

Mighty fine!

Remember St. Giles's Scape-grace where I found thee a compleat emblem of poverty, reſembling the fruit of a gibbet ſeven years expoſed to wind and weather, not a coat to thy back, a ſtocking to thy legs, nor a ſhoe to thy feet.

Very well, go on ſir.

Did I not find thee tatterdemallion with a beard two inches long, not having wherewithal to pay a penny barber; ſquallid cheeks, furrowed brows, ſunk eyes, and chattering teeth, crawling by the doors of cook-ſhops, to feed upon the ſteam of baked ox heads and ſhins of beef.

Tremble audacious villian at thy inſolence—fear my rage.

Did I not put thee into ſome liking, ſnatch thee from Jane Shore's fate, and when thou had'ſt not as much linen about thee as would furniſh a tinder box, did I not like a guardian genius bring thee to this houſe?

Yes thy maſter's houſe, which, like a hungry maſtiff, thou waſt left to guard, and for a ſingle bone would have let in any thief.

Did I not enable thee to carry on the deceptions of alchymy, fortune telling, and algebra; your minerals, your vegetals, and animals, to fleece the credulous vulgar; have not I provided you with conjuror's robes, ſtills, glaſſes, furnaces, coals, and all other materials, to carry on thy profitable farce? anſwer me knave have I not done all this?

And anſwer me miſcreant, haſt thou not thy ſhare of the plunder? ſirrah thou art as craving and unthankful as a Bumbailiff.

And thou, poltroon, as tricking as a Jewiſh Stock-Broker, or an Old Bailey Solicitor.

How now my maſters, I thought high words ſtruck my ears; ſay what churliſh point blows the [5] wind from, to make ſuch a gloomy appearance of foul weather?

Slave, there is no name vile enough for thee.

Call me any thing but Subtle, and I care not.

What tantrums are theſe I trow? I find my ears were right, ſome fiend has ſpread this miſchief be⯑tween ye, why ye look as black at each other as a dark Chriſtmaſs.

The dog is more hateful to me than cheeſe.

And thou to me more deteſtable than the ful⯑ſome ſteam of a tallow-chandler's work-ſhop.

For ſhame, talk not ſo loud, you will diſcover yourſelves.

I care not, welcome pillory, or cart, ſo that varlet has his ſhare.

Content, ſo thou art cropped, or hanged, firſt.

Hey day, hey day, if you are for that ſport have among ye; I muſt raiſe my voice too, then look to it; why you couple of paltry, pimping, petulant knaves cant we comfortably ſhare gains and be [6] quiet, cant we make fools without being ſuch our⯑ſelves; what bring our golden ſcheme to ſo fair a proſpect, and let it, according to your jargon, va⯑niſh in fumo—the old diſpute revived, I ſuppoſe, about honeſty, when you know in your conſciences that there is not a grain in either of you, or if there was, you would ſtarve by it.

Why it is all his fault Doll.

I deny it.

'Tis both your faults, you tinder temper'd knaves; you ſputter at one another, and yet have as little courage as honeſty, I know your high words and big looks, you ſpend your lungs to bawl, and ſtrain your limbs to ſtride, without any meaning; what, am I a partner in all your undertakings, your impoſtures, and ſhall I waſte my wit for nothing; muſt I encourage fools of various ſhapes, and aſſume as many different characters as Mr. What d' ye Callum, Protus, to forward your deſigns, that they may be blown up by idle paſſion.

Take breath Doll—take breath.

Take breath, 'ads my life, ſhake hands, live peacea⯑bly and cheat induſtriouſly, or tremble at my ven⯑geance, I'll blow ye—get a genteel reward for ap⯑prehending ſuch notorious bites; turn honeſt my⯑ſelf, [7] and make thoſe necks and ears you talk ſo light⯑ly of, tremble at the approach of wooden and hempen collars.

Then let him leave off grumbling like a bear, that he has the heavieſt part of our plan to exe⯑cute.

So I have; above one half the work, yet not above a third of the profit, beſides ill language.

And who begins it, old ſnarler, don't we perform the parts allotted us chearfully; if your's exceeds to-day, our's may match it to-morrow, s'death I have a good mind to pull you by the noſe for this.

Nay but dear Doll—Doll the ſoft—Doll the gentle.

No wheedling, Mr. Moroſe, but ſwear.

What wouldſt thou have me ſwear.

To leave idle diſputation and high words, for induſtry in promoting our common cauſe, this will beſt become you.

By my hopes I meant no other; what I ſaid was only to ſpur him up a little.

Ay but your ſpurs gall worſe than thoſe of a wild London apprentice, hack-mounted, to take the air on a ſunday; they would make even the numbed ſides of a ſand aſs ſhrink.

Come, come, no more, we want no whipping, nor ſpurring, take hands—no frowns but cordiality; I proclaim a peace.

Which for thy ſake, fair mediatrix, I will keep religiouſly.

And I.

I'll have no, no, Frenchified profeſſions, fair faces with deſigning hearts—for my ſake! keep the compact for your own.

Wench of ſpirit, we will, and when we have ſtuffed our paunches, which, before our maſter returns we certainly ſhall, as a reward for thy pains thou ſhalt be lady Face, or lady Subtle.

Marry, come up I trow—a wonderful catch—ſuppoſe I ſhould be neither, but of that hereafter is it not near the hour, when that Prince of ſimpli⯑city, my ſweet ſwain, the Tobaconiſt, is to be here?

It is, Face be thou in the way, to meet and con⯑duct him to an audience.

Fear not, I'll play the gudgeon with an angler's ſkill.

Why Doll, thou haſt almoſt as many admirers as Hellen.

Admirers! if the frames were not gilded, the pictures would be intolerable; as for inſtance Abel Drugger, whoſe formality of phiz, and ſhallow⯑neſs of ſcull, might for a few viſits make even mel⯑ancholly ſmile; then my ſlink-haired methodiſt preacher, Bawlwell, who wooes me in the ſtile of a ſaint, to make me in reality a devil.

Ha! ha! ha! well ſaid little volatile.

Third that cumberſome repoſitory of lewd thoughts, Sir Epicure, who batters my ears with ſuch pompoſity of phraſe, that I ſhould always have a dictionary at hand to underſtand him; he is, for mouthing, the puff'd up cryer of Cupid's court.

He is indeed a rich ſubject for impoſition; good wench, thou art to us as a conjuror's ſhew cloth to [10] draw in the gaping croud; moſt of the ſheep are penned by thee, and we fleece them.

Yes that you do pretty handſomely—but of all my numerous gallants I am moſt troubled with Headlong, the betting, boxing blade, and often fancy I ſtand in danger of feeling perſonally, by way of joke, the dexterity of his fiſts.

Huſh! I hear ſomebody coming;—retire till occaſion demands thy preſence; and above all re⯑member the feigned madneſs I have taught thee, for thy next interview with Sir Epicure—much de⯑pends on that.

Fear not—he ſhall think me freſh ſlipped from the region of Moorfields.

Now for ſuitable importance of look, and eſſen⯑tial obſcurity of phraſe; by which the prudent are ſometimes, and the fooliſh are always taken in.

There he is—the wonder of the world—paſt, preſent, and to come, are as familiar to him as thou art with thy own face; there's not a fixed Planet, nor even a wandering ſtar, beyond his knowledge.

May hap ſo—then he muſt have a power of ac⯑quaintances—I ſhould not remember half of them.

You!—compariſons are—but mum—he turns upon us.

So friend thy name is Abel Drugger.

Yes ſir.

And thou art a vender of Tobacco.

True ſir.

Free of the grocers.

Ay an it pleaſe you.

Thou art lucky—a good ſtar reigned at thy birth.

Mind that little Nab.

I hope it was a north ſtar—they ſay that's lucki⯑eſt now.

Thou haſt an illuſtrious ſet of features.

Yes very luſtrous—mother uſed to call me her bright baby Abel.

Well—now for buſineſs—I know thy thoughts yet require thy own explanation—what wouldſt thou have with me.

This an pleaſe your wiſe worſhip—I am a young beginner, and am building a new ſhop, if it likes your reverence—it is juſt at the corner of a ſtreet—here's the plot on't; and I would know, by art ſir, of your venerableſhip which way I ſhould make my door by necromany, and where to place my boxes, where my ſhelves, and where my pots—I ſhould be glad to thrive—I was wiſhed to you by Captain Face here, my very good friend, who ſays that you known men's planets and their good Angels and their bad.

He tells you a moſt ſolemn truth, I do know them.

I pray you Captain ſpeak for me to Maſter Doc⯑tor, his wiſdom has taken both my courage and breath away.

Well, well, I'll be thy ſpokeſman—Doctor this is my friend; his name Abel—a very honeſt fel⯑low.

Yes very honeſt.

And no Goldſmith.

No, no Goldſmith.

And as I have already hinted very fortunate—at which allow me to rejoice—ſoft—metapoſcopy informs me that your cheſnut, or olive coloured hair does never fail; beſides your long ears promiſe extremely well—you were born on Wedneſday.

Good now—by my truly and ſo I was.

Is not this aſtoniſhing.

The thumb in chiromancy we give to Venus—the fore finger to Jove, the midſt to Saturn, the ring to Sol, the leaſt to Mercury.—

Nay, and you give them all away, I ſhall have none for myſelf.

Is not this ſtrange.

Yes truly, very ſtrange.—Miſſing his Ring.

Now for attention—this is thy houſe.

Yes ſir.

And theſe are your two ſides.

So they are indeed ſir.

Mark me then—make your door here in the ſouth, your broad ſide weſt, and to the eaſt ſide of your ſhop write in fair golden letters theſe words, Mathlai, Tarmael, Baraborat.

Matlay, turnmill, boreabrat, what may that be in Engliſh, an like your wiſe worſhip?

Mum there; plain Engliſh would ruin all.

Upon the north ſide inſcribe Thael velil thiel.

Rael velil thiel.

Thoſe are the names of ſuch mercurial ſpirits as fright flies from boxes, cobwebs from ſhelves, and vermin from thy cupboards.

I pray you ſir write down theſe charms, for I have but a ſieve-like memory—all runs though.

Fear not, I'll ſtrengthen thy recollection, and give thee, for I like thy countenance, ſuch other aſſiſtance as will make thee ſtand a fair chance to [15] poſſeſs that ſource of boundleſs riches, the philoſo⯑pher's ſtone.

Hearſt thou that little Nab.

Ay, I do, good captain—what muſt I give the Doctor.

Give him—conſider thou art a made man—thou can'ſt not poſſibly give leſs than—but hold, that you may try his wiſdom a little cloſer, aſk him about any particular circumſtance that happened ſome time ſince—ſee if he can tell.

I'll do't—with your worſhip's good favour, I would aſk what happened to me laſt Martinmaſs day was twelvemonth, at night.

I ſee thou doubt'ſt my ſkill—but I'll indulge thee, Aries, Taurus, Virgo, Sagittarius, Capri⯑cornus, whiſper in my ear the event I am queſtioned upon.

Are all theſe brother conjurors he's talking to?

Thou never waſt at a tavern in thy life but on the evening thou haſt mentioned.

Truth and no more I was not.

There you was ſo ſick—

What, can you tell that too—ay, we had been out ſhooting water wagtails, and I had gotten a rare ſtomach—ſo eating a piece of fat ram mut⯑ton for ſupper, it lay heavy on my ſtomach, and my head did ſo ache.—

And Nab having no head.

No, no head.

You were obliged to be carried home where a good old woman.—

Yes faith, ſhe cured me with ſodden ale, and pellitory o'th wall—it coſt me but two pence.

Wonderful cheap.

Was'n't it maſter captain, why, it was but laſt week the Alderman of our Ward died with eat⯑ing too much, though his doctor's bill came to twenty golden gunieas—but I had another ſick⯑neſs worſe than the ram mutton.

That too I know; it was grief at being ſeſſed eighteen pence for the water works.

As I am a true man, and ſo it was—ay, it had like to have coſt me my life—'twas done in perfect ſpight.

Nay, thy very hair fell off.

Ay, and it has never curl'd ſince—every ſyllable true as I ſtand here, captain Face—I'll give him a crown.

What!

Yes I'll give him a crown.

A crown, I bluſh to think of it: what, after conſulting ſo many ſtars, and obtaining ſuch marks of good fortune, put the doctor off with a leſs fee than you muſt give for a pettifogging lawyer's let⯑ter—oh! ſhame, ſhame, what gold haſt thou a⯑bout thee.

A two guinea piece, which was left me by my grandmother, and I would fain leave it to my grandchild.

Pſhaw, Pſhaw—give it to the doctor—nay pauſe not man, and the next viſit make it ten—is it not a cheap purchaſe of ten times ten millions—mind that Nab.

Well, friend captain, ſince you deſire it—but ſhan't I aſk him for any change.

Not for the world.

There then—ſo I thank your worſhip—I am your conjurorſhip's humble ſervant—

—I had almoſt forgot—I would deſire another favour of his worſhip.

What is that my knight of the ſteady phiz.

That your doctorſhip will be ſo kind, as to be ſo civil, to look over my almanack, and croſs out my ill days, that I may neither buy, nor ſell, nor truſt, upon them.

I promiſe this ſhall be done againſt the after⯑noon.

It ſhall—moreover, I will mark out a diſpoſition of thy ſhelves, deviſe a ſign, with other matters that may ſerve thee.

Rejoice Nab, thou art in high favour with the doctor.

I humbly thank your grace, and if your reverence comes near Pye Corner, you ſhall be welcome to [19] ſome of my beſt Oroonoko, Virginia, long cut, ſhort cut, ſaffron, ſhag, or—your conjurorſhip's moſt humble ſervant.

Ha! ha! ha! thus griſt flows into our mill—what think you of this tame pidgeon?

An excellent ſubject for impoſition, and quite ripe for plucking; the ſtock is indebted to thee for bringing him to hand—at his next viſit Doll ſhall ply him on another ſide, in the character of a rich widow—I muſt in, and prepare myſelf for Sir Epi⯑cure Mammon; do thou ſlip on the laboratory diſ⯑guiſe, and watch his coming to the door.

SCENE I.

WELL, my Zephirus, do we ſucceed, is our day come? Bluſhes the bolt's head?

Even with a virgin glow.

Excellent; now then Lungs, all my care muſt be where to get ſtuff enough for tranſmutation.

Your worſhip muſt buy the metal covering from the roofs of churches.

Thou ſay'ſt well, and inſtead thereof place thatch; thatch will ſit lighter on their raftors, well after this day all that art can frame, or luxury can deſire, is mine; I'll have a ſeraglio, to put the grand Signior's out of countenance, for where's that beauty can withſtand a knight of gold?—my very ſlaves ſhall live on ſuch viands as monarchs now call rarities; thy cares too, my Lungs, are near an end, this night I'll manumit thee from the furnace, and repair thy brain, hurt with fume o'th' metals.

I thank you ſir; I have indeed blown hard for your worſhip.

And thou ſhalt have reward, a ton of gold ſhall pay thee; the largeſt bell our Iſland can afford I'll change into that glorious metal, ſo mayſt thou ring thy noble fortune—where's thy maſter?

Within ſir at his prayers for the ſucceſs of our great projection.

Good ſoul to pray ſo much, and toil ſo hard for my emolument; thou Lungs, when I have got thee into fleſh a little, ſhall be my Kiſler Aga, the keeper of my wanton nymphs, more fair than thoſe who tripped the Cyprian grove.

Hold ſir, not a profane word—for ſee the pious doctor comes.

Good morrow father.

Gentle ſon good morrow—but wherefore here ſo ſoon, I fear me you are covetous, and wiſh poſſeſ⯑ſion of the ſtone for carnal appetite; take heed you do not throw the near hand bleſſing from you with ungoverned haſte; I ſhould be ſorry to ſee my la⯑bour, [22] now on the point of perfection, not proſper where my honeſt love has placed them, as they have been meant for public good; for pious uſes, and mere charity—ſhouldſt thou purſue ought elſe, a curſe will follow thy deceitful ways.

I know it, venerable ſir—you ſhall not need to fear me, I will be charity itſelf; there ſhall not be an empty ſtomach, or a thread-bare coat, in the nation; I will build churches, endow hoſpitals, and make lean curates plump as fat metropolitans; I will give ſuch premiums for virtue, that vice ſhall be aſhamed to ſhow its face; I will pay off the natio⯑nal debt, to annihilate the taxes upon ſalt, ſoap, leather, candles, and beer, which now gripe im⯑poveriſhed pockets, all arts, all ſciences, ſhall thrive beneath my ſmile; and every comfort of life lie open to every hand, while temperance and doing good, to me, ſhall be the higheſt luxury.

Fairly ſpoken, if ſincerity gives value to thy words—Ulen, look well to the regiſter, and let your heat leſſen by degrees, to the aludels.

I ſhall ſir.

Look on, and bring word of what complexion is glaſs B—ſon of my care thy happineſs approaches—how now, what colour ſays it?

The ground black ſir.

That's your crow's head.

Be not too forward ſon—the proceſs then was right.

Yes, by the token ſir; the retort brake, and what was ſaved was put into the pellicane, and ſealed with Hermes ſeal.

I think 'twas ſo, we ſhould now have freſh amal⯑gama; but I care not, let him e'en die.

Our Knight muſt have the other ſqueeze,

I would not, you ſhould let any die now, if I might counſel ſir, for luck's ſake to the reſt.

Lungs, thou art right, now our harveſt is at hand, why ſhould it want the ripening.

Nay, I know it ſir, I have ſeen the ill fortune; what are ſome ſix ounces of freſh materials.

What no more! a very trifle—good ſir, what ſhall I give him.

Some twenty pounds, or you may make it five and twenty.

There is my purſe with thirty, I ſhall have as many tons ere night.

Well ſnapped gudgeon,

this needed not, but you will have it ſo—now muſt I ſet the oil of luna, and the philoſopher's vinegar in kemia—Ulen, go thou for the amalgama—ſon your leave a while.

Lungs, where's my lovely dame, my Cyprian Queen, might I not by thy good help, baſk for a moment in the ſun-ſhine of her eye—here's mo⯑ney for the pains, thou tak'ſt to ſerve me.

I am your ſlave—I'll ſend her to your wiſh.

Sure every ſmiling planet reigned at thy birth, Sir Epicure, to mark thee out the eldeſt favourite of fortune—but ſhe comes

allow me madam to offer up my vows with rapture at the ſhrine of your charms.

The vows of men, Sir Epicure, are falſe.

Mine fair dame as true as alchymy, and rich as the philoſopher's ſtone, which I am ſhortly to poſſeſs, ſuffer this ring to ſparkle with added luſtre upon that finger, whoſe delicate proportion not Phidias nor Praxiteles, were they alive again, with Art Sculptorian could deſcribe.

Your praiſe and favour, ſir, ſpeak warmly to my heart.

Soon ſhall they glow upon thee with the fervor of an Aethiopian ſun; to-morrow will purchaſe the monarchy of this nether globe, and make thee, my ſecond Venus! Queen on't. Now let a touch of thoſe ſoft lips confirm our contract.

Avaunt ambaſſador of ſin, and touch me not—emblem of vice, I've found thee.

Found me, I don't know that I was loſt.

Thy eyes are blind, thy tongue licentious, thy limbs diſordered.

How ſhe ſtares.

Thou walking volcano, thou embodied fever, go lay thee in the winter's frozen lap, and let him weep ſnow on thee, to allay thy raging heat.

Mad as a March hare—would I were out of the houſe.

Thy couſins, Etna and Veſuvius, vomit not combuſtibles more deſtructive than are winged on thy infectious breath—come, if thou haſt [26] courage, I'll lead the way from off this ſky-crown'd rock, and headlong plunge into yon roaring deep—thou trembleſt—guilt makes a coward of thee, and thou muſt remain a prey to ſelf conſum⯑ing flames; while white-winged doves wait to bear me to the fields of bliſs, where ſuch as thou can never, never, never, come.

What's the matter?—oh I ſee the lady's in a fit.

Ay, and a devil of a fit too, I think.

Ha! what art thou another fiend?—oh no, par⯑don gentle ſpirit dreſſed in virgin robes.

How did you work her to this?

Nay I know not, Lungs, unleſs by aſking a civil ſalute.

Ah there it is—knew you not her tender brain? once hurt by love and matchleſs modeſty, dear good lady.—

Right, Lungs, coax her Lungs.

Nay ſhepherds, ceaſe your melting ſtrains, they are all in vain—I have no heart to give—'twas ſtolen long ſince—what do you alter notes, [27] and looks ſo ſoon?—worſe than the ravens diſ⯑cord—black as the brow of night; oh, you can quickly change—but I defy you all—for at my beck, ten thouſand ſpitits wait, to whom, this ne⯑ther globe, with all its load of ſins would be but a ſportive toy, to bandy through unbounded regi⯑ons of the trackleſs air.

It is all over, we ſhall never lay her now, and if the old man ſhould hear her, we ſhould be all un⯑done—hark, was not that his footſtep?—

move off Doll.

The ſhade of Yarico, has ſent a card, and would attend my route this night—will ye join this inſub⯑ſtantial meeting of viſitants from the other world: Man of fleſh thou art too groſs, throw off mortali⯑ty, and take a friſk amongſt us.

What profane noiſe is here.

He comes.

How! what ſight doth wound my eyes? clouds and darkneſs, elſe why ſhun the light?—who's here, my ſon?

I have lived too long.

Nay, good dear father, there was no diſhoneſt purpoſe.

Nay, tell not me, I knew it ere I ſaw; our great work hath ſtood ſtill theſe ten minuets, and all our leſſer works gone back—this will retard our happy views a month at leaſt; if not—

Mercy on us! what dreadful noiſe is that?

Oh, ſir, we are all defeated, all the works are flown in fumo.

What all Lungs?

All; retorts, receivers, pellicans, bolt's heads, all ſtruck in ſhivers.

Never more to be recovered.

Oh! oh! oh! oh!

There he goes—ha! ha! ha! blown up as well as his hopes—this well-timed blaſt, and Doll's well-acted madneſs, will make him bleed a freſh, and more plentifully in view of reparation.

True—he ſtirs; ſtep you aſide, I'll work upon him.

Good worthy knight, over⯑whelmed [29] with grief and patience, look up—ſink not beyond all help.

Oh Lungs! what nothing ſaved?

I fear nothing worth mention, yet the doctor, good ſoul, is gone to ſee—charity—charity, he ſays may work a wonderful effect.

I will do any thing—I will do all.

Well ſir, for the preſent, ſuppoſe, you bring one hundred to Bethlem, for thoſe who have loſt their wits; one hundred for the Magdalen, as ſin of that kind has been your fault, and leave the ſums to diſpoſal of our doctor; ſuch marks of your contrition, and his prayers may give a freſh proceſs, deſirable effect.

Thanks Lungs, for thy advice, I doubt not, it will ſpeed, therefore the caſh I will prepare—and henceforth be cautious of crack-brain'd beauty.

What is the lump of knightly fleſh departed Face.?

Yes, and with heavy heart, but not quite hope⯑leſs.—

Right thou play'ſt him to a hair—hark! I hear approaching ſteps—

how often do the worldly wiſe, happy in their imagined policy, fool away ſubſtantial poſſeſſions, purſuing ſhadows.

There Madam, is the gentleman I preſume you want.

A droll figure I vow—an admirable character for Mrs. Cornelys—well Mr. Conjuror, as I am told, you are very intimate with the ſtars, I am in⯑clined for a little converſation with you, and that we may better underſtand one another—there are a few guineas.

There is no language the ſtars underſtand, or like better than what theſe ſpeak.

You muſt know ſir, I am the happieſt creature alive, in number, and choice of admirers; I have a ſoldier of ſpirit who ſwears to me, a ſmirking parſon, who prays to me, a Puritan, who cants to me, a Jemmy wit, who rallies, a gameſter, who prefers me to the four Queens, and a Patriot, who offers to ſacrifice even liberty to my ſmiles.

Upon my word madam, you at leaſt have the pleaſure of variety—but you'll ſoon be like Alex⯑ander, have no more to conquer.

Oh its charming beyond expreſſion; and though a little troubleſome when the rivals meet, yet I would not be without a numerous ſuite of worſhip⯑pers for the world—the delightful envy it raiſes in your ſex, and the enchanting buſtle it cauſes a⯑mongſt the other—then the amorous manoeuvres of a glance to one, a nod to another, a leer to a third, a ſmile to a fourth, a beck to a fifth, a wink to a ſixth, a ſigh to a ſeventh, the tip of my little finger to an eighth, caring for none, and yet kind to all; is ſo Jantee, ſo alamode—ſo every thing, that I would not ſacrifice my ſtate of conqueſt, to be the matrimonial property of—of—no, not a Nabob, or an Eaſt India Governor hung round with diamonds—Huſband!—inſipid, drowſy, odious title.

Give me leave madam, as I ſee the charms of your perſon, though, with the dim eyes of age, to enquire the beauties of your pocket; as thence perhaps, we may properly eſtimate the violent at⯑tachment of your numerous admirers.

What? fortune you mean; that, ſir, I am not aſhamed to explain, having had theſe twelvemonth paſt, by the will of my good old grandfather, twenty thouſand pounds, at my own diſpoſal.

Nay madam, it is not at all wonderful, that you ſhould have an admirer for every thouſand—be⯑ſides being at your own diſpoſal, the fatigue and [32] danger, of a trip to Scotland are rendered unneceſ⯑ſary.

True ſir—at the age of ſixteen, I was very near making that trip, as you call it—I was then at a boarding ſchool, and liſtened to the ſoft ſighs of Jemmy Gooſequil, an Attorney's clerk; fond as Pyramus, and Thiſbe, we agreed to elope—I got over the garden wall, on a ſweet moonlight night, and poſted as far as the river of matrimonial liberty, Tweed, when my ſurly fox-hunting papa, who loves a long chaſe at any rate, took me priſoner, horſe-whipped my poor gallant, and brought me back, as melancholly as a turtle, ſeparated from its cooing mate.

I imagine Miſs, you have ſince perceived, that it is neceſſary for parents to thwart the precipitate inclinations of youth.

Ay, but not upon old gruff's principles—at ſix⯑teen, indeed, I was a fond, fooliſh, credulous, creature, and thought of nothing but flames, darts, conſtancy, and dying—if a young fellow looked but grave—heigho! I pitied him, but now, as lady Fanny Flirtem ſays, if an army of lovers was before me, with piſtols at their ears, daggers at their breaſts, running nooſes round their necks, or poi⯑ſon at their mouths, I could look on with the moſt immoveable compoſure, the true unfeeling faſhion⯑able indifference.

This is rather philoſophical, than humane.

Humane ha! ha! ha! and pray what have fine ladies to do with humanity—though there is a young Baronet in my train who could occaſion ſome flut⯑ter here if he was a little more poliſhed, but the teizing creature is ſo pettiſh and ſo jealous and ſo grave and ſo wiſe—pray Mr. Conjuror could not you put him under the influence of ſome faſhiona⯑ble ſtar and teach him not to rail ſo much at inconſtancy, Soho-ſquare, the Winter Ranelagh and every ſpecies of gay life?—icod now I talk of gay life, I'll give you a ſong upon the ſubject, written by my rhiming ſwain, which I intended to ſing at the next maſquerade in the character of-mum! we muſt not tell before hand.

Madam your muſical compliment will oblige us.

A very agreeable combination of ſpirit and harmony.

Well Mr. Conjuror, if you can give my Baronet—I'll ſend him to ſee you—a little more taſte and leſſen his gravity, after I have had my fling, ſeen all the world, heard all the pretty things that can be ſaid, fretted a ſcore of lovers to death, and am on the brink of becoming an old maid, perhaps I may ſink into a domeſtic animal.—But you muſt excuſe my abrupt departure, I have a dozen friendly [35] pop viſits to make in leſs than an hour and would not miſs one for the univerſe; beſides, I have a thouſand things to prepare for Carliſle houſe this evening, where amid'ſt Aſiatic brilliance, Arabian perfumes; Circaſſian beauty and Arcadian tender⯑neſs, we taſte all the ſweets of gay life.

Truly a volatile ſprig of flirtation—but me⯑thinks I hear Abel's voice,

—now gra⯑vity and abſence wrap me round in thy deceptive robe.

Well maſter Tobacconiſt,

I have brought your worſhip a taſte of right Oroonoko—or if that's too mild,

This as a mark of thy honeſt regard will do.

I wiſh his honour Captain Face had been here, I have not half the dacity to ſpeak as when he is by.

Why not my honeſt friend? a juſt caſe may al⯑ways ſpeak openly, but excuſe me, reflection calls, and I muſt leave this world a while.

Leave this world a while—and yet he ſtands juſt where he did; but he's amongſt the ſtars and [36] taking a thouſand miles at a jump, why theſe con⯑jurors are—

Oh you frightened me.

So honeſt Nab—I ſee thou art alone, for the Doctor is with his ſpirits, but we'll upon him.

How now, what mates! what Baiards have we here?

I thought he would be furious—a piece of gold to ſoften him.

What another!

Ay ay, what mar the ſheep for a halfpenny worth of tar—come I'll give it the Doctor; now thy bu⯑ſineſs.

About a ſign ſir.

Ay, a good, lucky, thriving ſign Doctor.

I have been thinking for his ſervice—I will have none that's ſtale or common; a townſman born in Taurus gives the Bull, or the Bull's head—in Aries the Ram—both poor devices; no let me form his name into ſome myſtic character, whoſe radii [37] ſtriking the ſenſes of each paſſer by, ſhall with a virtual influence breed affections which may re⯑ſult upon the party that owns it.

Mark that Nab.

He ſhall have a bell, that's Abel.

Abel.

And by it ſtanding, one whoſe name is Dee, in a rug gown.

A rug gown.

D, and rug, you know, make Drug.

Excellent.

And right againſt him, a dog ſnarling Err.

Err, Abel Drugger—he! he! he! why that's my name.

Theſe emblems thus conjoined, form a lucky ſign with myſtery, and hyerogliphick.

Why, Abel, thou art made.

I do humbly thank his worſhip.

Six more ſuch legs will not do it, thy word is paſſed to bring a piece of damaſk.

Yes ſir—but I have another thing I would im⯑part.

Out with it, friend.

There viſits near me, a rich young widow.

A bona roba.

Ay, rona boba, but nineteen at the moſt.

Very good; Abel.

She does not wear a wig, quite in the faſhion, yet it ſtands pretty well a cop, and I do now and then, tip her a fucus, and phyſic too ſometimes, for which ſhe truſts me with all her mind.

Very good Nab, go on.

She whom thou mentioneſt is now in my ſtudy, caſting a figure—I know her to be the ſame—tall.

Yes, an like your worſhip, ſhe makes a parfi muſhroom of me.

Cheſnut hair—leering eye.

Very leering eye—your worſhip has her to a T.

I tell thee ſhe is within, I'll work in thy favour, and thou ſhall't have immediate conference—this tobacco is good thou gaveſt me, how much is there of it?

A very honeſt pound.

Doctor, Nab will preſent thee with a hogſhead of it.

Won't half a one do—it coſts me.—

Pſhaw, hang coſts, when a rich widow's in the caſe—and he will furniſh you alſo, grave ſir, with one of the richeſt ſuits of damaſk he can procure.

Such men are worthy fortune's ſmiles—I'll ſend the widow.

I'll follow and keep the doctor warm in thy in⯑tereſt, little Nab.

[40]Let me ſee, what theſe conjurations will coſt me—a two guinea piece, my ring, a pound of tobacco, then a hogſhead; beſides a ſuit of damaſk, and wedding charges into the bargain—why all to⯑gether can't come to leſs than—oh here ſhe is—what a charming figure to ſtand behind a count⯑er—I'll warrant ſhe'll ſell twice as much as me; my ſhop will be the meeting place of gallants.

Oh, Mr. Tobaconiſt, your ſervant.

How ſoftly her mouth opens, as if her lips were afraid to part, and then it ſhuts, as if they were glad to meet.

The charming creature is wrapped up in medi⯑tation, what can that wiſe ſet of features be engaged upon.

How ſoftly ſpoken? one to my mind exactly—my head won't bear much noiſe—oh, who would have thought to ſee you here, but they ſay moun⯑tains will meet.

Yes ſir, things little expected will happen—I never thought of loſing my dear huſband ſo ſoon, he was the be—be—beſt creature—

D—D—don't cry, for I am ſo tender hearted, I can't ſee any body cry, but I muſt cry too.

I ſhall eſteem you the more.

Eſteem—now you talk that way, have you thought any more about our wedding.

Good ſir, 'tis not for me to think in ſuch a caſe, I muſt obey my fate, what the ſtars ſay—

Why I never knew the ſtars ſaid any thing.

Oh but they denote moſt certainly—if we go together 'tis they muſt do it.

Say you ſo, then I'll go in, and aſk the doctor, how and about it—he'll tell me any thing in the ſtars, or in the ſun, or moon, or any where elſe.

He is indeed a wonderful man, and a moſt valu⯑able friend.

Well I'll go—now have I a good mind to aſk a kiſs—but I can't reach, and may hap ſhe may be aſhamed to ſtoop before marriage—ſo I'll ſtay a bit.

So there he goes—ha! ha! ha! a few minutes more, and my face would have betrayed me; gra⯑vity muſt ſoon have given way.

Hollo Doctor—maſter alchymiſt.

My fighting ſwain as I live, a little mal-apropos, but we muſt make the beſt on't.

How now, my buxom widow here? that's more than I thought for—tip us thy hand—I came to tell this here doctor, what a rare ſcholar I am; I can almoſt quarrel with any body now—when he has made me perfect in the croſs buttock, and brain blow, I ſhould not fear the beſt he, that ſtands in ſhoe of leather.

Excellent, I love a man of ſpirit.

Spirit to the back-bone; I never die dunghill—always game—I had a damned fine tuſsle in the Park juſt now.

Was it high fun?

Rare rig, it would have made you burſt your ſides with laughing; you ſhall hear the whole affair.

Pray do? I love a bit of miſchief, vaſtly.

Why you muſt known my girl of fire, as I was coming at a good ſpanking rate, from St. James's [43] cockpit, what ſhould I meet in the flagged paſſage, of Spring Garden; but a queer ſort of a half gen⯑tleman, arm under arm, with a damned rum wad⯑dling wife as I afterwards found ſhe was.

Going I ſuppoſe, to take a matrimonial walk, in the Park—vugar creatures, antediluvian wretches!

You have hit it—as I bruſhed by with my arms a kimbo, this elbow went plump into madam's bread baſket; ſhe ſtaggered, the huſband put on a fighting face, and cries what's that for? what's that to you ſaid I, it is to me ſays he—you lie ſays I—you are an impudent blockhead ſays he—you are a ragamuffen ſays I, and take that—giving him a tip a croſs the cheek—into the Park we went—a ring was made, and as pretty a ſet to we had for about five minutes as any one would wiſh to ſee, till giving him a plump of the jaw, which broke two of his grinders, he ſickned, ſo gave up: then we ſhook hands and made friends.

Droll and pleaſant to the laſt degree, ha! ha! ha!

Oh! but I ſhould have told you a merry affair that happened yeſterday; after knocking off ſix bottles of madeira, hand to fiſt—Lord Grace⯑leſs—a damned honeſt fellow, and myſelf, match⯑ed our nags from Windſor to London, the Peer laying ſixty guineas to forty: well, off we ſet, and maintained a deviliſh deep rate till we came to Turnham Green, where the ſport began; as we [44] were tugging for the lead, whip, and ſpur; I bolt⯑ed a blind beggar into the ditch; in leſs than ten ſeconds, his Lordſhip flew over an old woman, riding upon an aſs between two milk-pails; ſuch a ſcene, ha! ha! ha! would have made Mr. What d'ye Callum, the crying philoſopher, himſelf laugh; here lay the Peer's horſe with his neck broke, there the old woman groaning, yonder the aſs kicking, and his Lordſhip ſprawling through the milky, way like a wounded frog in a duck-pond.

Inimitable, ha! ha! ha! why this is higher life than your battle—beſides you won the wager.

Yes, yes, widow, I touched the ſpankers, the yellow boys, and intend to lay em out in a preſent for you; when we are married, if any man does but ſquint at you, I'll plump, and rib him.

Mr. Doctor, I have been telling my widow here of the prettieſt bruiſing match.

Mind that Nab—ſpeak to him—I'll ſecond you.

Will you? then I'll do't—your widow—may hap not.

May hap ay—and if I hear any more of your haps, look ye, d'ye ſee, I'll give you a douce oth' the chaps, mind that.

And if you do, you may get as good as you bring, for all your fighting face.

Nay, good gentlemen, don't fight on my ac⯑count—I'll pleaſe you both if I can.

You—no, no, little buxom, only a few knocks for love, to ſee who's the beſt man, that's all—will you ſtrip?

As ſoon as yourſelf.

Now then come on, little tickle-pitcher.

I am at thee, bully bluff.

Bravely, done my hector of Troy, thou art vic⯑torious as Alexander, and ſhall be crowned with tobacco inſtead of laurel; take thy fair widow, re⯑tire and compoſe thyſelf.

Maſter Captain, I can feeze tightly, when I ſee occaſion.

Come, walk in gentlemen, we'll clear this neſt of hornets.

How, my maſter returned! curſed chance! then we are all undone—not a loophole to eſcape.

Hey day, what my faithful Jeremy, metamo⯑phoſed into an officerical appearance?

Only an innocent frolic—if I had known your honour.—

Ay, ay, if you had known I was coming, you would have been better prepared; I doubt it not—why hang dog, what villainous work have you been making of this houſe during my abſence?—no prevarication—I have heard of your converting it into an impoſtor ſhop, where gulls have been decoyed to barter real property for empty hopes.

What reverend cheat art thou? the leader of the gang.

What a glorious harveſt is here blaſted?

A feather headed puppy had like to run me over, and was within a hair's breadth, of tumbling me neck and heels down the whole flight of ſtairs—but here it is my alchymiſt, here are the means of reparation, one hundred pounds for Bethlem, as much for the Magdalen, beſides fifty to purchaſe freſh amalgama!

What puffed up bladder of folly have we here?

I am a knight, and my alchymiſt there is to make me a knight of gold.

Thou art a knight of the poſt, for ought I know—at leaſt a knight of the ſhallow ſkull; keep the money thou talk'ſt of to place thyſelf in Bedlam, as for this alchymiſt, 'tis great odds but he is made a tranſmuter of metals in earneſt—by giving him to the Eaſt India company, to ſend him a Nabob hunt⯑ing.

Nabob hunting! what are all my hopes vaniſhed in fumo?—no amalgama? no flower of the ſun? no projection? no bolt's head?—I will be better in⯑formed.

In proper time you may, at preſent hold thy peace; if thou haſt any thing to alledge againſt theſe worthy gentlemen, meet them tomorrow, before Juſtice Splithair, in Coxcomb Court, Law Lane; at preſent I muſt deſire you to leave my houſe.

Your houſe?

Yes mine ſir—no big looks, or I ſhall convince you of the property in a very diſagreeable manner.

Oons, if this be the caſe, I'll never truſt the ſtars again, and every man that ſpeaks a hard word in my mind ſhall be a cheat—where's Mexico—where's Peru?

Now culprits, what defence can you make.

To be ſhort ſir, having a mind above ſervitude, and talents to try a puſh in life, I was reſolved to make the moſt of your abſence; the proſpect was very fair, but the fabric of my hopes like a houſe of cards is levelled by a ſingle puff; however ha⯑ving little to riſque, I have only loſt expectation, and having been guilty of no breach of truſt reſpec⯑ting you, imagine myſelf tolerably ſafe from proſe⯑cution.

Mighty well, evaſive ſir.

As for me ſir, at whom you look with an inqui⯑ſitive eye, being as low as the blind goddeſs could lay me, I was ready to ſnatch at any means of amending painful circumſtances—you will ſay, why turn impoſtor?—look thro' the various claſſes of life, and you will ſee how many, that hold high heads, with fair outſides, purſue worſe practices; you may ſtile me a knave, but ſince I have taken care not to be a poor one, I ſhall draw that reſpect and ſafety from well lin'd pockets, which pennyleſs, ſhame faced, honeſty could never have obtained.

Maſter Captain, and Maſter Doctor, I have ſet⯑tled the whole affair—the widow here, loves me like any thing.

What unfeather'd cuckoo, art thou?

Cuckoo in your teeth, I gave one a trimming juſt now, and if you jaw much, mayhap you may come in for your ſhare—nay, you need not ſquint ſo at this lady, ſhe is a rich widow, and is to be my wife.

A rich widow! ha! ha! ha! thou art too con⯑temptible for ſerious reſentment, therefore I vouch⯑ſafe to tell thee, this lady is my chambermaid, that captain, my butler, and your grave alchymiſt there, a cheat, picked up I know not where; as to theſe three, I'll ſecure them for juſtice ſake, and leave you to find the ſame way out, that you came in; come gentlemen, bring him to a place of ſecu⯑rity, till my furniture, plate, and other matters, are properly examined into.

The widow his chambermaid, the captain his butler, and our wiſe alchymiſt, a cheat—a pretty kettle of fiſh I have made of it—but eſcaping the marriage nooſe is ſome comfort however.