THE REHEARSAL: OR, BAYS in PETTICOATS.
SCENE I.

WELL, I believe we are at preſent the moſt melancholy Family in Town, that us'd to be the mer⯑rieſt. Since theſe Devils, the Mu⯑ſes, (as my Lady calls 'em) have got into the Houſe, they have turn'd her Head, and ſhe diſtracts every body about her. She really was once a ſweet⯑temper'd Woman; but now I can't ſpeak, or ſtir, but ſhe flies at me, and ſays I have flurried her out of one of the fineſt Thoughts!—Hang her! I wiſh her Farce may be hiſs'd off the Stage.

That's but a fooliſh kind of Wiſh; for if ſhe's ſo ſweet-temper'd now, what do you think ſhe'll be then?

I don't care what ſhe'll be; for I'm determin'd not to ſtay with her. I am ſure ſhe uſes me like her Dog.

Does ſhe?—Then you are an ungrateful Huſ⯑ſey to complain: for ſhe is fonder of that than ever ſhe was of her Huſband.—I fancy this Farce of her's is horrid Stuff: for I obſerve, all her Vi⯑ſitors ſhe reads it to (which is indeed every bo⯑dy that comes to the Houſe) whiſper as they come down Stairs, and laugh ready to kill themſelves.

Yes, but that's at her Aſſurance. Why, do you know 'tis none of her own? a Gentleman only lent it her to read; he has been ill a great while at Bath; ſo ſhe has taken the Advantage of that, made ſome little Alterations, had it ſet to Muſic, and has introduc'd it to the Stage as a Performance of her own.

I hear Mr. Surly, that every body thought ſhe was going to be married to, is ſo enrag'd at her, that he'll never ſpeak to her, or ſee her again. One of his Footmen told me of it yeſterday, as a great Secret, ſo I promis'd him never to mention it.—Don't you hear her Bell ring?

Hear her! yes, yes, I hear her; but I ſhould have a fine Time on't, if I was to go to her, as often as ſhe takes it in her Head to ring.

Ay, ay, ring away.

Ay, ay, ring away.—I'gad here ſhe comes. I with you well off.

Why, what is the Meaning I muſt ring for an Hour, and none of ye will come near me, ye Ani⯑mals?—

I was coming as faſt as I cou'd.

As faſt as you could! why, you move like a Snail that has been trod upon, you creeping Crea⯑ture.—Let me die, but ſhe has provok'd me into a fine Simile. Come, get the Things to dreſs me inſtantaneouſly.

You, Tom, I'm at Home to no human Being this Morning but Mr. Witling. I've promis'd to carry him to the Rehear⯑ſal with me.

Madam, will you pleaſe to have your Cap on?

No! you Ideot; how durſt you interrupt me, when you ſaw me ſo engag'd? As I am a Cri⯑tic, this Creature will diſtract me!—Give me my Bottle of Salts.—She has ruin'd one of the fineſt Concluſions.—O Cor.—Lord! I can't ſing a Note.—What are you doing?

Lord, Madam, I can't find them!

Here's a provoking Devil! ſees 'em in my Hand, and wou'd not tell me of it! Get out of my Sight.

Why, where are you going? am I to dreſs myſelf?

Madam, Mr. Witling.

My dear Widow! you're hard at it I ſee. Come, give me ſome Tea. What is it, your Prologue, or Epilogue, pray?

O Lord! dear Witling!—Don't be ridiculous; for I'm in a horrid Humour.

Yes; and a horrid Dreſs too, I think. Why, 'tis almoſt ten.—What, is this your Rehearſal Habi⯑liment?

Why, that Creature that you ſee ſtanding there, won't give me any thing to put on.

Well, do you know I have had ſuch a Quarrel with Frank Surly upon your Account? We met laſt Night at Lady Betty Brag's Rout;—there was a vaſt deal of Company,—and they were all talking of your new Piece.

So, I ſuppoſe I was finely worried.

You ſhall hear: as ſoon as ever it was mention⯑ed, we all burſt out a laughing.

You did!—and pray what did you laugh at?

Hey!—why—oh, at Frank Surly; he look'd ſo like a—ha, ha, ha, i'gad I can't find a Simile that can give you an Idea of ſuch a Face. Oh, thinks I, my dear, you're in a fine Humour to make us ſome Diverſion. So, ſays I, Frank, I hear the Match is quite concluded between Mrs. Hazard and you; and that ſhe has fix'd the firſt Night of her Comedy for your Wedding-Night.—Sir, ſays he, (with a very grave Face) you may ſay what you pleaſe of Mrs. Hazard; for as ſhe's going to expoſe her⯑ſelf, ſhe muſt expect that every Fool will be as impertinent as ſhe is ridiculous:—but I would adviſe you not to mention my Name any more [12] in that Manner, for, if you do, I ſhall take it extremely ill. Lord! ſays Miſs Giggle, Mr. Surly, how can you be ſo croſs? expoſe herſelf!—I'll ſwear, I believe Mrs. Hazard can write a very pretty Play, for ſhe has a great deal of Wit and Humour.—Wit and Humour! ſays he, why there are not ten Women in the Creation that have Senſe enough to write a conſiſtent N. B.—Marry her! I would ſooner marry a Woman that had been de⯑tected in ten Amours, than one, who, in Defiance to all Advice, and without the Pretence that moſt People write for, (for every body knows ſhe's a Wo⯑man of Fortune) will convince the whole World ſhe's an Ideot.

A Bear! a Brute! let me hear no more of him.

Yes, but I muſt tell you a very good thing that I ſaid to him.

No, that you can't I'm ſure, Witling; for you ne⯑ver ſaid a good thing in your Life.

Nay, why ſhou'd you be ſo ill-natur'd to me? I'm ſure I took your Part. Why, ſays I, Frank, how can you be ſuch a Fool to quarrel with her? I wiſh ſhe lik'd me half ſo well, as I'm ſure ſhe does you; ſhe ſhould write, and be hang'd if ſhe wou'd, for any thing I car'd; for let them do what they will with her Performance, they can't damn her eight hundred a Year.

You ſaid ſo, did you?

I ſaid ſo!—No; Lord, Child!—How cou'd you think I cou'd ſay ſuch a Thing. No, no, to be ſure it was ſaid by ſomebody in the Company. But upon Honour I don't know who.

What a Wretch is this?—But he is to carry a Party for me the firſt Night; ſo I muſt not quar⯑rel with him.

Well, but my dear Hazard, when does your Farce come out?

Why ſome time next Week; this is to be the laſt Rehearſal: and the Managers have promis'd they ſhall all be dreſs'd, that we may ſee exact⯑ly what Effect it will have.

Well, but don't your Head ach, when you think of the firſt Night? hey.—

Not in the leaſt; the Town never hiſs any Thing that is introduc'd to them, by a Perſon of Conſe⯑quence and Breeding. Becauſe they are ſure they'll have nothing low.

Ay, but they mayn't be ſo ſure they'll have no⯑thing fooliſh.

Ha!—Why perhaps they mayn't find out one ſo ſoon as t'other. Ha, ha, ha, well, let me die if that is not a very good Thing.—But 'tis well for me, Witling, the Town don't hear me; not that I mean quite what I ſay neither, for to do them Juſtice, they're generally in the right in their Cenſure; tho' ſometimes indeed they will out of Humanity for⯑give an Author Stupidity, and overlook his being a Fool; provided he will do them the Favour not to be a Beaſt; for which Reaſon, Witling, I have taken great Care to be delicate; I may be dull, but I am delicate; ſo that I am not at all afraid of the Town: I wiſh I could ſay the ſame of the Per⯑formers: Lord, what pity 'tis the great Tragedy Actors can't ſing! I'm about a new Thing, which I ſhall call a Burletto, which I take from ſome In⯑cidents in Don Quixote, that I believe will be as high Humour, as was ever brought upon the Stage. But then I ſhall want Actors; oh! if that dear Garrick cou'd but ſing, what a Don Quixote he'd make!

Don't you think Barry wou'd be a better! he's ſo tall you know, and ſo finely made for't. If I was to adviſe, I would carry that to Covent-Garden.

Covent-Garden! Lord, I wou'dn't not think of it, it ſtands in ſuch a bad Air.

Bad Air!

Ay; the Actors can't play there above three Days a Week. They have more need of a Phyſician, than a Poet, at that Houſe.

But pray, Madam, you ſay you are to call your new Thing, a Burletto; what is a Burletto?

What is a Burletto? why havn't you ſeen one at the Hay-market.

Yes; but I don't know what it is for all that.

Don't you! why then, let me die if I can tell you, but I believe it's a kind of poor Relation to an Opera.

Pray how many Characters have you in this Thing?

Why I have but three; for as I was obſerving, there's ſo few of them that can ſing: nay I have but two indeed that are rational, for I have made one of them mad.

And who is to act that, pray?

Why Mrs. Clive to be ſure; tho' I wiſh ſhe don't ſpoil it; for ſhe's ſo conceited, and inſolent, that ſhe won't let me teach it her. You muſt know when I told her I had a Part for her in a Performance of mine, in the prettieſt manner I was able, (for one muſt be civil to theſe ſort of People when one wants them) ſays ſhe, Indeed, Madam, I muſt ſee the whole Piece, for I ſhall take no Part in a new Thing, without chuſing that which I think I can [16] act beſt. I have been a great Sufferer already, by the Manager's not doing Juſtice to my Genius; but I hope I ſhall next Year convince the Town, what fine Judgment they have: for I intend to play a capital Tragedy Part for my own Benefit.

And what did you ſay to her, pray?

Say to her! why do you think I wou'd venture to expoſtulate with her?—No, I deſir'd Mr. Gar⯑rick wou'd take her in Hand; ſo he order'd her the Part of the Mad-woman directly.

Well, I think the Town will be vaſtly oblig'd to you, for giving them ſuch an Entertainment, as I am told it is from every body that has heard it; tho' the ill—natur'd Part of your Acquaintance ſay 'tis none of your own.

Why whoſe do they ſay it is, pray?—Not yours, Witling; not quite ſo bad as that I hope. No, my Motive for writing, was really Compaſſion; the Town has been ſo overwhelmed with Tragedies late⯑ly, that they are in one entire Fit of the Vapours.—They think they love 'em, but it's no ſuch Thing. I was there one Night this Seaſon at a Tragedy, and there was ſuch an univerſal Yawn in the Houſe, that, if it had not been for a great Quantity of Drums and Trumpets, that moſt judiciouſly every now and then came in to their Relief, the whole Audience would have fallen aſleep.

Madam, there's a young Miſs deſires to ſpeak to you upon particular Buſineſs.

Heark'e Tom, are you ſure 'tis a young Miſs?—If 'tis an old one, don't let her come up; for they are a Sort of Creatures I have a great Averſion to.

Why, thou impertinent, ſtupid Wretch! did not I bid you deny me to every body? don't you know I am going out this Inſtant;

Madam, 'tis not my Fault; I was not below, and they let her in.

I don't believe there is a Woman in the World has ſuch a Collection of Devils in her Houſe as I have.

Mame,—your Servant.—Not to interrupt you.

Yes, Miſs; but you have done that—What is your Buſineſs pray?

Why, Mame—I was inform'd as how that there was a new Play of your's, Mame, a-coming out up⯑on the Stage, with ſome Singing in't.

Coming out upon the Stage! (Lord! where could this Creature come from!) Well, Miſs.

So, Mame, I have a Deſire, (not that I have any Occaſion) but 'tis my Fancy, Mame, to come and ſing upon the Stage.

And a very odd Fancy I believe it is.—Well, Miſs, you ſay, it is your Fancy to ſing upon the Stage; but, pray are you qualified?

O yes, Mame; I have very good Friends.

This Girl's a Natural!—Why, Miſs, that's a very great Happineſs; but I believe a good Voice wou'd be more material to your Fancy;—I ſuppoſe you have a good Voice.

No, Mame; I can't ſay I have much Voice.

Ha, ha, ſhe's delightful! I am glad they let her in. Well, Miſs, to be ſure then you are a Miſtreſs!

Mame—what do you mean?

Ha, ha; I ſay, I imagine you underſtand Muſic perfectly well.

No, Mame, I never learnt in my Life; but 'tis my Fancy.

Miſs is a very pretty Girl, I wiſh ſhe'd take a Fancy to me, I believe it wou'd anſwer my Purpoſe better than ſinging will her's.

Well; but, my Dear, as you confeſs you have nei⯑ther Voice nor Judgment, to be ſure you have a par⯑ticular fine Ear!

Yes, Mame, I've a very good Ear—that is when I ſing by myſelf; but the Muſic always puts me out.

Ha, ha. Well, Child, you have given an exceed⯑ing good Account of yourſelf, and I believe will make a very extraordinary Performer.

Thank you, Mame, Yes, I believe I ſhall do very well in Time.

Pray, Miſs, won't you favour us with a Song?

Yes, Sir; If you pleaſe, I'll ſing Powerful Guar⯑dians of all Nature: I've brought it with me.

Pray let's hear it.

Oh fie! Miſs! that will never do; you ſpeak your Words as plain as a Pariſh-Girl; the Audience will never endure you in this kind of Singing, if they underſtand what you ſay: you muſt give your Words the Italian Ac⯑cent, Child.—Come, you ſhall hear me.

There, Miſs, that's the Taſte of ſinging now.—But I muſt beg you wou'd excuſe me at preſent; I'm going to the Play⯑houſe, and will certainly ſpeak to the Managers a⯑bout you; for I dare believe you'll make a prodigi⯑ous Figure upon the Stage.

That you will indeed, Miſs.—The ſtrangeſt that ever was ſeen there.

Sir, I thank you, Mame, I thank you. Mame, I'll wait on you another Time.

Miſs, your Servant.—No; that you ſhall not do, I promiſe you.

Madam, your Chair has been waiting a great while; 'Tis after Ten, above half an Hour.

My Stars! this driveling Girl has ruin'd me. Here, Gatty, get me my Shade; I'll go as I am.

Shan't I ſet you down?

Oh! not for the World! an Authoreſs to be ſeen in the Chariot of a Fool, wou'd be the greateſt Ab⯑ſurdity in Nature; we ſhall meet at the Houſe.

Very well, Mame, and I ſhall be in the Pit the firſt Night; remember that.—Come, give me your Hand, however.

ACT II.
SCENE, The Play-houſe.

MR. Croſs, your Servant. Has any body been to aſk for me this Morning?

Not any body, Madam.

Well, that's very ſurprizing! I expected Half the Town wou'd have been trying to get in: but 'tis bet⯑ter as 'tis; for they wou'd only have interrupted the Rehearſal. So, Mr. Croſs, I'll be denied to every body. Well, Witling, how do you like the Play⯑houſe in a Morning?

Why, I think 'tis like a fine Lady; it looks beſt by Candle-Light.

But pray, Mr. Croſs, get every body ready; is the Muſic come?

Yes, Madam, the Muſic has been here this half Hour, and every body but Mrs. Clive; and, I dare [22] ſay, ſhe'll not be long, for ſhe's very punctual; Mr. Beard and Miſs Thomas are gone to dreſs.

Mr. Croſs, you have had a great deal of Trouble with this Thing; I don't know how I muſt make you amends; but pray, when your Benefit is,—you have a Benefit, I ſuppoſe?—ſet me down all your Side-Boxes, and every firſt Row in the Front; I may want more; but I ſhall certainly fill thoſe.

Thank'ye, Madam.

Mr. Croſs, there's a Perſon wants to ſpeak to you.

Well, I'll ſwear theſe poor Players have a very ſlaviſh Life; I wonder how they are able to go through it!

Madam, Mrs. Clive has ſent Word, that ſhe can't poſſibly wait on you this Morning, as ſhe's oblig'd to go to ſome Ladies about her Benefit. But you may depend on her being very perfect, and ready to per⯑form it whenever you pleaſe.

Mr. Croſs, what did you ſay? I can't believe what I have heard! Mrs. Clive ſend me Word ſhe can't come to my Rehearſal, and is gone to Ladies about her Benefit! Sir, ſhe ſhall have no Benefit. Mr. Wit⯑ling, [23] did you ever hear of a Parallel to this Inſolence? Give me my Copy, Sir; give me my Copy. I'll make Mrs. Clive repent treating me in this manner. Very fine indeed! to have the Aſſurance to prefer her Be⯑nefit to my Rehearſal! Mr. Croſs, you need not give yourſelf the Trouble to ſet down any Places for me at your Benefit, for I'll never come into the Play-houſe any more.

Nay; but, my dear Hazard, don't put yourſelf in⯑to ſuch a Paſſion, can't you rehearſe her Part your⯑ſelf? I dare ſay you'll do it better than ſhe can?

Why, Madam, if you wou'd be ſo good, as the Muſic are here, and the other Characters dreſs'd, it would be very obliging: And if you pleaſe to put on Mrs. Clive's, her Dreſſer is here to attend, as ſhe expected her, and I believe it will fit you exactly, as you're much of her Size.

O yes; to be ſure it will fit me exactly, becauſe I happen to be a Head taller, and, I hope, ſomething better made.

Oh, my dear Hazard! put it on; put it on. Oh Lord! let me ſee you in a Play-houſe Dreſs.

Well, let me die, but I have a great Mind;—for I had ſet my Heart upon ſeeing the poor Thing re⯑hears'd in its proper Dreſſes.—Well, Witling, ſhall I?—I think I will. Do you go into the Green Room and drink ſome Chocolate, I'll ſlip on the Things in a Minute. No; hang it, I won't take the Trouble; I'll rehearſe as I am.

Miſs Thomas, your Servant. Upon my Word, I am extremely happy to have you in my Performance; you'll do amazing well. Only I muſt beg you▪d throw in as much Spirit as you can, without over⯑doing it; for that ſame Thing the Players call Spirit, they ſometimes turn into Rant and Noiſe. Oh, Mr. Beard! your moſt Obedient. Sir, I ſhall be vaſtly oblig'd to you, I am ſure; do you know that you ſing better than any of 'em? But I hope you'd con⯑ſider the Part you are to act with Marcella, is to be done with great Scorn: Therefore, as you have ſuch a ſmiling, good-humour'd Face, I beg you'll endea⯑vour to ſmother as many of your Dimples as you can in that Scene with her. Come, come, let us begin We may omit the Overture.

That's pretty well, Madam, but I think you ſing it too much; you ſhould conſider Recitative ſhould be ſpoken as plain as poſſible; or elſe you'll loſe the Ex⯑preſſion—I'll ſhew you what I mean.—No, no, go on now with the Symphony for the Song.

My dear Creature, I immenſely rejoice to find you; do you know we have been at your Houſe, and could not meet with a Creature that could give the leaſt Account of you? Your Servants are all abroad, ha, ha, ha; they are certainly the worſt Servants in the World, ha, ha, ha. Well, but my Dear, have you done? for we muſt have you with us. We are going to one of the breakfaſting Places, but we don't know which yet, for they are all ſo immenſely ſuperb, that I can't touch my Breakfaſt at Home, ha, ha, ha! Lord, dear Creature, what makes you look ſo miſer⯑able? your new Thing is'nt a Tragedy, is it?

Giggle, I'm aſtoniſh'd at you: Pray who are all theſe People you have brought upon me?—

Who are they, my Dear? I'll introduce you to them; they're immenſely agreeable, all of them, ha, ha, ha.

Lookee, Miſs Giggle, if they are ever ſo immenſe, they muſt not ſtay here, for I'm going to be im⯑menſely buſy, and will not be interrupted.

My dear Creature, as to leaving you, 'tis not in the Nature of Things; I would not go without you for the World; Sir Albany Odelove, Mrs. Hazard, deſires to be introduced to you. Madam, this Gen⯑tleman is immenſely fond of the Muſes, and there⯑fore muſt be agreeable to you. Miſs Sidle, Miſs Dawdle.

Mr. Croſs,—I want to ſpeak to you; I ſhall run mad.—

Lord Witling, what's the matter with Mrs. Ha⯑zard? She looks as if ſhe could kill me.

The matter with her? ha, ha, ha! why, you have interrupted her Rehearſal. Ah, I could indulge ſuch a Laugh! if you'll join with me, we ſhall have the fineſt Scene in the World.—She has made me ſick to Death with her Stuff, and I will be revenged. You muſt know one of the Actreſſes has diſappointed her, and ſhe is going to ſing her Part herſelf; ſo the Moment ſhe begins, do you burſt into a violent Laugh; we ſhall all join with you, you may be ſure; and then you'll ſee the Conſequence.—

See! nay, I believe I ſhall feel the Conſequence, for ſhe'll certainly beat us immenſely. Oh, I'll tell [30] you what; let's ſet Odelove upon her, to enquire into the Plot of her Play—He'll plague her to Death, for he's immenſely fooliſh.

Well—that's an admirable Thought.—Mum.—

Well, but my dear Mrs. Hazard, don't let us in⯑terrupt you, for we are all immenſely fond of a Re⯑hearſal.

Yes, ſo we are indeed, Madam, immenſely.

So we are, immenſely.

Lord! don't paw one ſo, Mr. Witling.—

And ſo this is the Playhouſe; I'll ſwear 'tis im⯑menſely pretty, and all the Muſic; well, if there was but a Scene of green Trees, we might fancy ourſelves at Ranelagh, ha, ha, ha.

Why really by the Noiſe you make, and the Non⯑ſenſe you talk, I think you might. Lookee, Miſs Giggle, I ſhall be very plain with you; if you think it is poſſible for you to be quiet for Half an Hour, I ſhall be glad of your Company; if not, I muſt beg you'd depart.

Why really what the Lady ſays, is very pathetic and conſequental to the foregoing Part of Miſs Gig⯑gle's Behaviour; for when a Perſon of Parts, (as we are to ſuppoſe this Lady to be) is aſſaſſinated with In⯑coherences, it is ſuch an Aggravation to our Intel⯑lects, as does in Fact require ſupernatural Patience to acquieſce thereto.

Ha! ha! ha!

Very well, Sir Albany, I'll remember you for this—No, upon Honour, now I will be very good, I won't interrupt you indeed, won't ſpeak another Word.—O la, Witling, do you know Miſs Lucy Loveſhuffle had ſuch an immenſe ill Run laſt Night, ſhe bragg'd every thing that came into her Hand, and loſt every thing ſhe bragg'd—'till ſhe really looked as ugly as a Fiend.

I fancy you won then, Giggle: For I never ſaw you look ſo well.

Nay, as to that Matter, let Giggle win or loſe, it will be pretty much the ſame thing with her Beauty; but come, Mr. Croſs, pray let us go on. Let me ſee, I begin my Recit.

Corydon.—

Giggle, I can tell you who's going to be married.

Oh Lord! who?—pray tell us?

The celebrated Miſs Shrimp to Lord Lovelittle, a Man of very great Fortune.

Really! well then, I think we none of us need to deſpair.

Come, don't you be envious now; for ſhe's a charm⯑ing Girl, and deſerves her good Fortune.

Charming!—nay then I ſhall never have done, I'm ſure ſhe's immenſely little.

Oh fy Miſs, that's Nonſenſe; horrid Nonſenſe! immenſely little! Oh Lord!

Why, to be ſure ſhe is rather ſmall, that muſt be allowed; ſhe is certainly the leaſt Woman that ever was ſeen for nothing.

Madam, as I was not ſo auſpicious as to be here at the Beginning of this Affair, will you give me leave to aſk you a few Queſtions?—

Madam, if you won't go on, the Muſic and Per⯑formers can't poſſibly ſtay any longer.

Why what can I do, Mr. Croſs? you ſee how I'm terrified with 'em.

She begins to be in a Fury.—Look at her, Giggle.

I ſay, Madam, will you give me Leave, as you're going to entertain the Town, (that is, I mean, to endea⯑vour, or to attempt to entertain them) for let me tell you, fair Lady, 'tis not an eaſy thing to bring about. If Men, who are properly graduated in Learning, who have ſwallow'd the Tincture of a polite Educa⯑tion, who, as I may ſay, are Hand and Glove with the Claſſics, if ſuch Genius's as I'm deſcribing, fail of Succeſs in Dramatical Occurrences, or Performances, ('tis the ſame Senſe in the Latin) what muſt a poor Lady expect, who is ignorant as the Dirt?

Pray, Sir, how long have they let you out?

Therefore, I hope you have had the Advice of your Male Acquaintance, who will take ſome Care of your Diction, and ſee that you have obſerved that great Beauty, neglected by moſt Dramatic Authors, of Time and Place.

Oh Sir Albany, I'll anſwer ſhe has taken Care of Time and Place; for it will begin about half an Hour after eight; and be acted at Drury-lane Theatre.—Ha, ha, ha, there's Time and Place for you.

And ſo, you're Hand and Glove with the Claſſics, are you? Why thou elaborate Idiot, how durſt you venture to talk to any thing that's Rational?—Con⯑ſult my Male Acquaintance! I thank my Stars, thou art not one of 'em. Where did you pick up this Creature?—what's his Name?—Can you ſpell your own Name, you ugly Brute?

Oh Lord! it will never come to her Singing.

Pray, Madam, will there be any Dancing this Morning?

No—Mr. Croſs, who let theſe People in? I do aſſure you I ſhall complain to the Managers;—I have been ſo plagu'd there's no bearing it—I could tear theſe—I'm unfit for any thing now.—So the Re⯑hearſal muſt be put off, 'till another Morning.

Ay do;—and let us go—

Go to—

To Ranelagh—I knew you wou'd not name an ungenteel Place.

The Lady has been ſomewhat underbred in her Behaviour to me; but as I have a Regard to the Fair [35] Sex, I would have ſome of you adviſe her to cry; it will give Relief to her Paſſion.

Sir, will you go out of this Place?

I proteſt, Madam, I will, directly.

Ha, ha, ha!

Well, but my dear Creature, you are not angry with me?—

Indeed I am, Witling, and very angry too; I don't believe I ſhall ever ſpeak to you again. As for thoſe Things, that run about littering the Town, and force themſelves into all public Places only to ſhew their Inſignificance, they are beneath my Re⯑ſentment.—Mr. Croſs, I'll ſettle with you, when I wou'd have another Rehearſal; tho' I am not ſure I ever will have another.—I believe I ſhall tear it to Pieces.—Pray let ſomebody ſee if my Chairmen are there.

Shall I wait on you?

No.

Well, as Sir Paul ſays Odſbud, ſhe's a paſſionate Woman; but her tearing it will only ſave the Au⯑dience [36] the Trouble of doing it for her. Come, La⯑dies, will you go? I'll ſee you to your Coach.

As the Ladies have been diſappointed of Mrs. Ha⯑zard's Rehearſal, if they pleaſe to ſtay, we are go⯑ing to practiſe a new Dance.

Oh, by all Means.