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 9 ^gl \nning a Husband 
 
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 THE MINOR DRAMA 
 
 THE ACTING EDITION. 
 No. CXXII. 
 
 WIfflllG A HUSBAND ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 •SE^V^ffiN^S THE INf^IjSr. 
 
 A BURLETTA, IN ONE ACT. 
 
 BY MACFARREN. 
 
 TO WKICH ARC ADDED 
 
 i DeiOTlpUon of the Costume — Ca^t of the Characters— Kntranees and Bxlts- 
 
 Belative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and tha 
 
 vhole of the Stage Biuiness. 
 
 AS PERFOKMED AT THE PRINCIPAL 
 
 LONDON AND AMERICAN THEATRES. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 S A ^1 U E L FRENCH, 
 
 122 Nassau Street, (Up Stairs.)
 
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 UMVERSITY OF CAT,IFORNU 
 SAM A 13 A KHAR A 
 
 WINNING A HUSBAND; 
 
 OR, SEVEN'S THE MAIN. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — A Room in a Hotel, in London — on each 
 
 side are three Doors, leading to xeparate aparlments, 
 
 and one in the centre, leading to Lucindn's chamber — - 
 
 - they are numbered from one to seven, Lucinda'.s, C, D, 
 
 F., being the seventh — a harp, music-book, ^c. 
 
 LuciNDA discovered seated at a work'tabte, R., Davy 
 waiting, L. 
 
 Luc. Well, David, have you procured the articles I 
 sent you for ? 
 
 Davy. E'es, Madame Luc.inda. 
 
 Luc. Don't Lucinda nie ! You know, David, your 
 old master, my uncle, always called me Lucy. 
 
 Davy. E'es, madam : but my new master, your brother, 
 says I mun make you a cinder, or he'll beat me as black 
 as a coal. 
 
 Luc. Ah, bless the man ! nothing will go down with 
 him, unless it has a romantic name. 
 
 Davy. Noa, madam; one would think he were a cler- 
 gyman instead of a knigiU-baronite, he be so nation fond 
 of christening folks, — ay, and things, too, madam. Do 
 you know, he calls his boots, buskins ; his single-breasted 
 coat, a doublet ; and his cossack trowsers, trunk-hose. 
 [Laitgliiiiji.] He, he, he! 
 
 Luc. in short, David, no matter to him whether it be 
 antique or modern, so it's high-sounding it's enough for 
 him. 
 
 Davy. E'es, ma'am, that's tlie reason he calls the top 
 rooms in the old mansion-house, the supereminences;
 
 12 WINNING A HUSBAND. [ACT I. 
 
 the chambers, the dorinousitories ; the diningparlour, 
 the refractory ; and the little green-house at tite back, 
 the conserve ol rository. 
 
 Luc. Well, David, you remember my old school-fel* 
 low, Miss Jenny Transit, whom I expect from the coun- 
 try immediately ? 
 
 Davy, E'es, ma'am, I remember her : she left me a 
 keepsake last time she were at the mansion-house; and, 
 Baving your presence, I think it's very likely, I owe 
 you 
 
 Luc. Oh, dear, not in the least, David. 
 
 Dary. I axes pardon, ma'am, but really I think you 
 helped her to soap the edge of the stairs, by which means 
 I got a cut of the shin, and set your uncle's punch a 
 wimming in the wrong place : however, I bearcs no 
 malice ; you ■were both very kind to me, and, I think, 
 Borry for your crueltyation. I shall never forget how 
 you applied the paper and brandy. [^Aside.] The former 
 «f which went into my pocket, and the latter down my 
 throat. 
 
 Luc. Well, David, we intend to play my brother a 
 sort of a hoax to-day, and endeavour, if possible, to cure 
 his romantic propensities. Now, we may want a little 
 of your assistance, David ; can we trust you ? 
 
 Davy. Certainly, ma'am. Mrs. Doublechalk does not 
 mind trusting me a pint or two, so I think you mun take 
 my word on this pint; and, by the honour of a caviller, 
 as master says — [Double hwck, L. d., Davy npens it.] Oddii 
 bobs! ma'am, somebody's coming up-stairs. As I do 
 Jive, it be Miss Jenny ; her cheeks are as rosy as the 
 cheeks of a roarer, and her eyes sparkle like briglit 
 fibbers, as my master would say. 
 
 Enter Jenny Transit, in a travelling-dreu, L. D. 
 
 Jen. [Cror.sivg to c] Ah, my dearest Lucy ! 
 
 Luc. Jenny, my dear, welcome to London. 
 
 Je7i. Lucy, my love, welcome to a far more friendly 
 place — my bosom ! [T/ieiy embrace, 
 
 Diicy. [Aiide.] I supposes he'll be taking me next to her 
 place. Miss Jenny — Miss 
 
 Jen. What, my old frieii J, David! How d'ye do, 
 David? — Very v^ ell, are you f How's your shin, David? 
 —Quite well 1— That's right. You see, David, I liaVe 
 not forgotten my old tricks. 
 
 Davy. Noa, Miss Jenny, nor I neither.
 
 SCENE 1.3 WINNING A HUSBAND. l3 
 
 Luc. How did you traveP 
 
 Jen. ()1«, in very excellent company. A fat dowajer, 
 a country bride, a spruce old maid, a half pay ollicer, 
 and a carcass-butcher, of Leadenhall iMarket. 
 Luc. Did \ou bring no lut'S^'n** ' 
 
 Jen. Oil, yes; I put up a few (hings according to your 
 command. I left them below wiih the hostess. 
 
 Luc. David, be so good as to place Miss Transit's 
 trunk in my room, and be ready when I ring. 
 
 [Lticiuda and J envy go tip, R. 
 Diiry. E'es, ma'am, I'ze lake care. There's a couple 
 of odd ones that make as pretty a pair as ever were seen. 
 Lots of mischief, I dare say. Oh, bless 'em ! they're 
 two merry souls ; though, if master were here, I dare 
 say he'll call 'em heavenly bodies. [Exit Uaiv, l. d. 
 
 Jt^n, Well, my dear Lucy, how's this quizzical knight- 
 errant of ours, — as moody and perverse as ever ? 
 
 Luc. A large estate, plenty of money, and the title of 
 Sir, has turned his he.id a little; but then, my dear 
 Jenny, his heart is still in the right place. He has been 
 now these two years on the continent ; has seen much 
 that he never suspected, and heard a great deal he did 
 not understand ; he therefore thinks all his old fashions, 
 habits, and connexions, because they are unlike what he 
 has recently mixed with, utterly unbearable, improper, 
 and disagreeable. 
 
 Jen. And so, having forgotten the vows and promises 
 made to your humble servant, he claps an advertisement 
 into the papers, in hopes nf forming a more amiable con- 
 nexion. 
 
 Luc. [Taking the newspaper from the table,] Yes, here it 
 is ; have you read it? 
 
 Jtti. No: let nie see. [Reads.'] '^ To the Female Sei. A 
 ladu of good familii, unexceptionable morals, respectable con- 
 nexions, and amiable temper, whose education and accomplish- 
 ments are of a liberal description, and qnaHty Iter to adorn a 
 superior situation in society, may bear of an engagement t<^' lift, 
 with a young man of character and title, by application (pi:st 
 paid) to Q. X., Ctarendm Hotel. The Ailverliser's motiie for 
 tlie present address is, tofoima matrimonial alliance with a lady 
 superior to the ordinary run of her sex. No property is. there- 
 fore, expected irr desired ; and the greatest secresu and delicacx) 
 may be relied on.'" [Laughiui;.] Ha, ha, ha! Upon my 
 Word, he is far from being scrupulous. If he can meet 
 wiiii good family, good morals, amiable temper, genteel 
 B
 
 14 WINNING A HUSBAND. [aCT I. 
 
 connexions, superior understaiidin<:, and refined accom- 
 plishments, it is all he requins ; very moderate, indeed. 
 
 Lnc. U ell, my dear Jenny, I iiave answered the 
 ad^-eitisement in various hands, and have received 
 liis replies tu them; and the object of your visit to 
 London is to pay your respects to him in the various 
 characters is which 1 have addressed him. Here are 
 his letters; to-Uay is appoint d for him to see them all, 
 and, if any strangers arrive, David will manage them to 
 suit our purpose. 
 
 Jen. Then, my good Sir Roger, have at you. 
 
 Luc. Oh, for goodness sake, mind you don't accost 
 biin by that title ; he is no longer Sir lioger, but has 
 elegantized it into Sir lioderick ; has re-christened 
 me Lucinda ; calls his horse Bucephalus ; his grey- 
 hounds, Acteon and Diana; and, in short, has nev7' 
 named the whole of his family, except our friend David, 
 who, out of respect to science and philosophy, he still 
 continues to call Davy. 
 
 Jen. Well, I will endeavour to recollect his new no- 
 menclature, and attack him with all my forces. 
 
 Luc. \V hy, my dear girl, if there be a woman in the 
 world equal to the task you have undertaken, Jenny 
 Transit is she. The education you have received, in 
 the idea of making you a governess, and the variety of 
 scenes in which you have figured, will at least qualify 
 you to 
 
 Jen. To undertake Ihe government of your simple — I 
 beg pardon, your romantic brother. I'll at least not 
 lose him for wanl of an effort ; for 'tis far worse to lead 
 apes below, than to manage a monkey here. 
 
 Sir li. [CtiUin<i uilhoiit, R.J Ddvy ' 
 
 Jtn. Odso ' I hear him coming. 
 
 Luc. Away to m\ room ! Away ! I'll follow you instantly. 
 
 Jen. Now then, Don Roderick, I'vie tried sincerity and 
 constancy in vain. Let us see w hat changes and decep- 
 tion can effect. I Exit into Lucinda s chamber. No. 7, C. D. P. 
 
 Sir R. [^li'itliout, R.] Davy, I say, where, in the name 
 of philosophy, are jou loitering] Why, Davy, I say ! 
 
 Enter SiR Roderick Strangewavs, at the stage-door, a. 
 
 Sir R. Curse the fellow, he's as difTicult to find as the 
 philosopher's stone or the perpetual motion, and one 
 needs the forbearance of patience on a monument to en- 
 dure his procrastination and disobedience. Luciada,
 
 SCENE I.] WINNING A HUSBAND. 16 
 
 my dear, have you sent him abroad on any embassy ? I 
 know he's your charge-daflTaires. 
 
 Luc. No, my dear biotlier, he was here this minute. 
 I'll rin'^ the belL [Kmgh U 
 
 Sir R. Ay\, do ring the alarm-hell, and bid the lazy 
 vassal approach his liege lord. 
 
 Enter Davy, at the stage-dcnr, L., eating bread and cheese. 
 
 Sir B. So, siirah, you are not to be found vvbefl wanted: 
 in ambuscade, I suppose. 
 
 Duty. Noa, sir, 1 were in the pantry. 
 
 Sir R. The buttery, you varlet ! 
 
 Davy. Noa, sir, it were the cheesery ; I were taking a 
 snack of bread and cheese 4 I did but stop to wet my 
 vvhistle with a drop of 
 
 Sir R. Kare Faleroain. 
 
 Davy. Noa, sir, it were rare Barclay and Perkins. 
 
 Sir R. Weil, sir, now that you have stocked that 
 -depot of good things, your hungry stomach, have the 
 goodness to relieve me of my beaver. [7'u/iW off his hat, 
 ■and gives it to Davy.] and my baton ; [^Gining his wuJkiiig- 
 cane.] deposit tliem in my robery, in your quality of 
 page ; then establish yourself at the outer portal, in your 
 capacity of warder, and, when the fair damsels whom I 
 expect arrive, in your office of marshal, usher them into 
 the presence. 
 
 Davy. E'es, sir. [Aside.'] And, I suppose, if I don't be 
 graceful when I hand the pretty creatures up, he'll take 
 good care to foot me down. [Eiit at the slage-dnar, L. 
 
 Sir R. \\ ell, my dear Lucinda, " this is the awful day^ 
 big with the fate of Cato and of Rome." Here I shall 
 ijivouac amongst a host of beauty — here I shall be encom- 
 passed in an arcana of loveliness — here I shall revt-l in a 
 concatenation of intellectual energy and supereniincnt 
 accomplishments, 'ihis will be my garden of Eden — my 
 Mahoniedau Paradise — my salon d'amour! 
 
 Luc- La, brother, 1 wish you'd leave off this unintel- 
 ligible jargon, gathered from magazines, novels, old 
 plays, and 
 
 Sir R. Sister, forbear! Lovely I.ucinda, be taciturn. 
 It is the fashion, now-a-days, for us of the ton to use a 
 language perfectly ditferent from those of the canaille ; 
 and shall 1 be blamed for aspiring to a style of diction 
 superior to the slang of fashionable life ? shall I be rated 
 far using the language of poetry and fable, — a language 
 b2
 
 16 WINNING A HUSBAND. [ACT T. 
 
 rendered sacred and venerable by the dust of ages f — '• 
 Forbid it, Chaucer, Cervantes, and (;orneille ! — Forbid 
 it, Sliakspeare, Dante, and Lope He Vega' And, oh, ye 
 modern antiques,— >e patriarchs in cliitdhood, forbid it, 
 De Genlis, Horace VValpole, and Mrs. Kadclilfe ! 
 " Forbid it, heaven, and forbid it, man!" 
 
 Luc. M'ell, really, brother, this travelling and leisure 
 have quite spoiled you. When wewere at the farmhouse, 
 in my poor father's life-time, you were something like a 
 rational being; then we heard the old curate preach 
 twice every Sunday ; then a wake or a fair were the 
 greatest adventures of our lives, and a game at blind- 
 man's bulFwith Jenny Transit 
 
 Sir R. Oh mention her not! If you love me, touch 
 not tiiat tender string ! 
 
 Luc. Oh, then, you confess there is a little tenderness 
 still lurking near your heart? 
 
 Sir R. Ah, oui, une petite tendresse. The fact is, the 
 damsel is pretty and cheerful, and, I dare say, ere this, 
 bus become a fine buxom woman ; but do you think a 
 fine buxom woman will do for Sir Roderick? No, sister 
 Lucinda, we must graft a more courtly scion on the 
 family genealogy, — some sprig of nobility, some senti- 
 mental, all-acconiplislred Rosamond must allure me to 
 her Woodstotk bower. This advertisement has afforded 
 me the clue, and I go to unravel it. 
 
 Luc. Take care that Queen Eleanor does not step in 
 witU the poisoned cup. 
 
 Sir R. VVhy, the very name is a suflHcient bar to our 
 union. Think of a Jenny — absolutely , a spinning-Jenny ! 
 Quite modern and vulj^ar! Not a single poet has used 
 the name, except, indeed, the character of Jenny Diver> 
 in the Beggars' Opera. Jenny, Jen — Pheughl still, as 
 I say, there is a little tendresse in my bosom, and there- 
 fore, my dear Lucinda, do not exercise the ofBi e of city 
 remembrancer, but allow me to blot out the portrait, 
 whose original I can never forget. Forget thee ! Alas^ 
 poor ghost! while memory \^A double knock, l. d> 
 
 Re-enter DavY, at the stage-door, L. 
 
 Davy. X. Y. Z. is below, sir. 
 
 Sir R. Show her hither. [Eii7 Davv."] Now, my dear 
 sister, get to your apartment, and, when I have col- 
 lected as many as will fill the rooms — let me see, — 
 seven — 'tis a happy omen! There are seven eolourS|,
 
 SCENE I.] WINNING A HUSBAND. 17 
 
 seven notes, seven stars, and here 1 shall have seven 
 damsels, I trust, as vivid, as iiarmuiiious, and as radiant 
 as tliem all. Yes, seven's the main ! Away, till 1 send 
 for thee ; then to thy discretion will I submit my aino- 
 reus phalanx, and, placing; thee on the judgment-seat, 
 bow obedient to thy liat 
 
 Luc, Farewell ! Success attend our enterprise ! 
 
 [Eiit Lucindii, into No. 7, C. D. F. 
 
 Re-eiUer Davy, at the stage-door, I, 
 
 Davy. [Looking back.'\ \Va\k np, ma'am. [ToSir Rode- 
 rick.] Allow me to interduce Signoia X. Y. Z. 
 
 [Exit Davy. 
 
 Enter Jensy Transit, disgidsedas Margaret Macmvcklecanny. 
 
 Jen. (l. c.) I believe I hae the pleasure to address 
 Q. X. 
 
 Sir R. (c.) Yes — why — no, madam, not exactly the ad- 
 vertiser, but a near relation and confidential friend. 
 [A>ide.] By heavens ! a perfect beauty, of the mountain 
 breed, — some Lady IMorna — some descendant of Fingal 
 — some Malvina, come in search of her Oscar. 
 
 Jen. Ye'U think me bold to risk this meeting, sir, but 
 the secresy and delicacy promised in the newspaper 
 have inspired me wi' confidence. 
 
 Sir R. [Aside.] What an interesting brogue she has ! 
 she has certainly sat for her portrait to the author of 
 " Tales of my Landlord." [Aloud.] U'ell, my dear lady, 
 allow me to make the inquiries which the duties of my 
 agency impose. My friend is anxious to realize the plea- 
 sures which are only to be found in a married state, and bis 
 first and most earnest desire is for an accomplished partner. 
 
 Jen. He must ken, sir, that Scotland is the schule 
 from whence he must select yon. " Scenis decora alta 
 faturis," as Virgil says: e\er)bo(ly, the poor and the 
 rich, little and niuckle, receive the blessings o' a liijeral 
 education iu that li^ppy country- Learning is indigenous 
 to the soil : like the national thistle, it flourishes on the 
 bleak mountain-lop as well as in the cultivated pleasure- 
 ground. 
 
 Sir R. How poetical ! How sentimental ! You are 
 a bright sample, madam, of the national produce. I 
 suppose you understand the fashionable languages, 
 Fieiich and Italian ? 
 
 Jen. French and Italian ! — Forbid it, Homer aad Aris- 
 b8
 
 16 WINNING A HU&BAND. [aCT I. 
 
 totle: No, sir, the Greek and Homan languages are 
 familiHr to me, ''sit milii fas audita -loqiii." 
 
 Sir ii. Tliis will never do. Egad, sLe'U school me ! 
 
 Jen. And the ancient Gaelic, sir — the language o* 
 Ossian. 
 
 Sir H Of Osf lan ?— Oh, delightful ! I shall have a 
 new version, with family annotations. Then, you dance ? 
 
 Jen. Dance! Where is the country produces sic 
 dancers as the land o' cakes, — [Dimces.l the reel, the 
 strathspey, and the Highland fling, sir? 
 
 Sir Ii. Delicious accomplishments! And then you 
 have a taste for music? 
 
 Jt-7.. Yes, sir ; we have muckle taste for that delight- 
 ful science. What can equal the delicious harmony o' 
 the bagpipe — the melodious pibroch ? Sir, 1 ha' spent 
 considerable time in perfecting mysel' on that truly an- 
 cient and sonorous instrument; and, by your leave, will 
 tak' an opportunity (j' saluting you wi' a serenade. 
 
 •Sir R. Vou are very kind ; but really the instrument 
 is ralher too national for my ears. 
 
 Jen. Too national, sir ? " Libertas, et natali solum, 
 as the Roman poet has it. " ThtTfux yxia." as Demos- 
 thenes has written ; nothing can be too national, sir ; the 
 love of country is the " primum mobile" of every honest 
 heart; and the heart of i^largaret Macmucklecanny beats 
 as fervently lor her country as it hopes to do (or your 
 friend, sir. 
 
 Sir R. [Aside.'] Mackmucklecanny ! Oh, zounds, thi? 
 won't do I [Aloud.] Madam, I dare say my friend will 
 diiJy appreciate your patriotism. Have the goodness to 
 step into this room ; I expect him immediately, and will 
 state your pretensions. 
 
 Jen. Sir, I rely on your fidelity and his delicacy ; for 
 know, sir, the bluid that rins in these veins has de- 
 scended through a line o' ancestors, equally honourable, 
 learned, and patriotic; and, as the national motto rins, 
 " nemo me iiiipune lacessit.'" [Exit into }\o.l, R. D. Jirst e. 
 
 Sir R. Here's a strange admixture! Latin and love 
 — sentiment and Aristotle — sympathy and a bagpipe — 
 Demosthenes and a Scotch jig — Ossian and Margery 
 Macraucklecanny. Oh, Lord ! Oh, Lord ! this never 
 will do! To be sure, she is interesting; but then the 
 Greek and Latin will totally upset me. Oh, that I had 
 had a classic education ; for, though exploded by the 
 present fasbiunable system, I am convinced of the benefit
 
 «CEKE I.] WINNING A Ill'SBAXD. 19 
 
 derived from college study, — from an abode in the " an- 
 tique halls and silent groves, where erst the sons of 
 genius trod;" but it's too late; and so. Miss Margery, 
 yes, absolute Madge — Meg — Peggy — I*eg ! Oh, save 
 »ne, save me from contamination! No, Miss Margery 
 Macmucklecanny, although 1 acknowledge your talents, 
 my own old-fashioned rustic, Jenny, will have the pre- 
 ference to you. [A double knuck. 
 
 Re-enter DaVY, at the ilage-<ioor, L. 
 
 Dary. A lady below, who says she signed herself C. 
 C C. sends you this card. Ecod ! they say C. stands 
 for a hundred, and, by her appearance, it's very right. 
 She'd make an excellent aunt to a large family, or mis- 
 tress of a parish workhouse. 
 
 Sir R. Introduce her, Davy. 
 
 Dav. E'es, sir. Please to walk up, ma'am. 
 
 [Flit Daw.- 
 
 Sir R. Miss Clementina Cornelia Clappergo ! Here's 
 softness and sentiment, youth and loveliness. To be 
 sure, the surname is none of the prettiest ; but then, we 
 shall change that, so it matters but little. Cornelia! 
 Clementina ! 'tis the music of love, — 'tis '' the concord of 
 sweet sounds :" and then tlie device, so elegant ! I re- 
 member the letter -signed C. C. C. was one of the most 
 enchanting billets in the whole packet, — wove paper, 
 gilt edges, glittering sand on the letters; seal, a Cupid, 
 with his wings cut ; motto, '"Jamais fuir," Oh, this is 
 the long-looked-foT 
 
 Daiy. [IVithmtt.l Please to walk in. 
 
 I^nter Jenny Transft, at the sta^ednor, i.., disguised as Miss 
 Clementina Cornelia Clappergo. 
 
 Jen* Good morning, sir. Excuse the embarrassment 
 which overwhelms me. The novelty of my situation, 
 and the modesty of my tender sex, overpower me with 
 sensations that call for your tenderest indulgence. 
 
 Sir R. [Offering a c/iutr.] 1 beg, madam, you will be 
 eeated. 
 
 Jen. [Sitting aonn rath great formalitti.'] I trust the sin- 
 cerity of your professions need not be diuibted, and that 
 you are imbued with an honourable symi athy towards me, 
 which will excuse the frankness and candour of my de- 
 oieanour, and exonerating me from censure, place these 
 ** Tills cliaracter sliould be tpuken wi(b • liap.
 
 20 WINN'ING A HUSBAND. [ACT I. 
 
 little aberrations from strict decorum to the account of 
 my fidelity and devotedness to your service. 
 
 Sir R. Madam, I really 
 
 Jen. Sir, I beg you will not trouble yourself to reite- 
 rate the professions so abundantly scattered over tliat 
 part of our charmingcorrespomlence which has emanated 
 from your elegant pen. I trust, sir, the reply which you 
 have, by your soft and gentlemanly insinuations, dravvn 
 from me, has not been found unworthy of your attention. 
 To write a good letter, is a desideratum seldom acquired 
 in the present day ; and, as the Monthly Review says of 
 my last novel, " The Castle of St. Omer's, or the Mysie- 
 ries of Faithlessness," the epistolatory style is carried 
 to its acmfe, in that prodaction. 
 
 Sir R. Madam, I must beg leave 
 
 Jen. Sir, you can take leave. I beg youll be under 
 no restraint. 'Jhe connexion we are about to commence 
 is of a nature to banish all ceremoniousness, — a delight- 
 ful reciprocity of feeling and a liberality of conduct are 
 the only guides to happiness in that blessed intercourse; 
 as I say in my seventy-sixth sonnet: — 
 
 " Wlien two fond hearts are bound by love. 
 Content ehoiiiil twist llic packlhiead ; 
 Elsi', if ill separate paths they rove, 
 'Tis ten to one they crack thread." 
 
 Sir R. My dear madam, excuse me a moment. [Thejf 
 rise, — Aside.] This is past endurance, — i must leave her. 
 
 Jen. Sir, you are at liberty to transact any business 
 you please; I am but the creature of your clemency ; at 
 present I have no legal control, but, when the Gordian 
 knot is tied, '' when Hymen, with his sacred torch, lights 
 up his lambient flame of connubial felicity," when, as my 
 one hundred and eightieth Amatory Song says, — 
 
 " When Ciipid rivets bis loft chain, 
 'I'ii u&elis:s for us to complain." 
 
 Sir R. Pray, madam, excuse my leaving you. [^Crossing 
 to L., and calling.'] Here, Davy ? Davy, I say ! 
 
 Re-enter Davy, at the stage-door, l. 
 
 iSir R. [Apart tn Davy.] Try to get rid of this Miss 
 Clappergo, — what a suitable name ! — or, if she will not 
 go, deposit her in No. 2 and let me know when the coast 
 is clear. [^Crostet to E. 
 
 Jen. Surely, you will not slight me thusi
 
 SCENE I.] WINNING A HUSBAND. 21 
 
 Sir R- Madam, I swear to you, by the silver moon of 
 Diana- 
 
 Jen. Tlie moon — I have an ode to her in my sixteenth 
 Tolume of Fugitive Pieces, beginning thus : — 
 
 " See in the sky the crescent of the night 
 Sfcltniiily shines in sad resplendency ; 
 
 Slieildipig its sootliing sweet si. ft silver light 
 O'er the strait bpreadiug Durlace of the siKnt smooth salt sea." 
 
 iS'r R. Madam, I must away ; adieu, most adorable 
 Miss Clappergo. [Eait at the itage-donr, r. 
 
 Jen. Adieu, most irritable Sir Koger — [Laughhig.] ha, 
 ha, hn ! 
 
 Dary. [Laughing.] He, he, he ! ecod, Miss Jenny, that 
 were a tickler. 
 
 Re-enter LuciNDA,/rom No. 7, CD. F. 
 
 Luc. Bravo ! bravo ! my dear Jenny Transit — the work 
 goes on bravely — he's almost sick, 
 
 Jen. 'Gad! he shall be sick and sorry, too, before 
 I've done with him : but come, my dear, help me to 
 effect the metamorphose of a fine lady of the last age, to 
 one of the present. 
 
 Luc. Most willingly, my dear. I vow it's absolute 
 Ecandal to the sex to dis^juise a young woman in tiiis 
 way ; but, however, the evil is all outside, and can 
 easily be shifted. ^\ hat would many a wrinkled spin- 
 ster give, if she could resume her youth and beauty as 
 speedily? 
 
 Sir R. [ Without, R., calling.} Davy ! 
 
 Jen. Hark! he's returning — which is my room, David T 
 
 Davy. Walk into No. 2, ma'am. 
 
 Jen. Away, my dear Lucy — there's do time to be lost; 
 'Itis true, the enemy has been beaten from the field, but 
 he may rally again, and you know there is as much 
 praise due to the general who follows ap his conquest, 
 as to him who achieves the victory. 
 
 [E-rcunt Jennq inta Ko. 2, L.Jint E., ami Luciiida itilo 
 No. 7, c. n. F. 
 
 Dary. {.longhing.l He, he, he '. ecod! she does just as 
 she liUes. Old or young, merry or sad — master may 
 talk as he likes about accomplishments and stutT — but I 
 fancy Miss Jenny will accomplish more than he gives 
 her credit for. 
 
 Sir R. HViihout,R., culling.'] Davy! Davy}
 
 22 WINNING A HUSBAND. [aCT J. 
 
 Davy. [Crossing to B.] You may come out of your hiding* 
 place, Sir Roderick — she's caged. 
 
 Re-enter SiR Roderick Strangeways, at the stnge-door, r. 
 
 Sir R. You have got rid of that terrible gabbler, 
 Davy ? — How did she go off ? 
 
 Davy. Oh! just as she had gone on, sir, while you 
 were here; gabble, gabble, just like ducks in a pond — 
 lord, sir, she'd be a nation fine mistress for your old 
 family mansion, and if your honour should marry her, 
 you need not be at the expense of painting her picture; 
 there be plenty such as she among your maiden aunts, 
 and great grandmothers, in the long gallery, sir. 
 
 Sir B. Away, you impudent varlet ! nor treat my 
 female ancestry with such disrespect — away ! 
 
 Davy. Oh, very well, sir: your good old uncle would 
 have thanked me for an idea that would have saved him 
 a penny — but this be a prodigal age. [Eiit Davy, l_ D. 
 
 Sir R. No muttering, sir 1 was ever such an eternal 
 talker, and to so little purpose— one would think I dealt 
 among the muses — my first application was a learned 
 sprig, my second a full-blown literary bramble; but 'tis 
 scandalizing the ''tuneful nine," to carry the allusion 
 any further. If these are the saniples, I fear my time 
 and my metal have been squandered in vain. 
 
 Re-enter Davy, at the stage-door, L. 
 
 Davy. Oh, sir, such a beautiful creature coming np, 
 sir. 
 
 Sir R. Beautiful, is she ? — What's her name? 
 
 Davy. She would not tell, sir. 
 
 Sir R. Is she fair, or a brunette ? 
 
 Davy. I did not see, sir. 
 
 Sir R. Is she young or old ? 
 
 Dnvy. I don't know, sir. 
 
 Sir R. Then, how, in the name of Venus, Juno, and 
 Minerva, can you call her a beauty ? 
 
 Dat^y. M hy, sir, they do say, fine birds have fine fea- 
 thers, and if that be true, she mun be a downright beauty 
 — here she be, sir — oh, the pretty chicken. [Exit, u 
 
 Re-enter Jenny Transit, at the stage-door, l., disguised as 
 Lady Dorothea Dashly, 
 
 Sir R Madam, permit me to Land yuu a chair. May
 
 £C£N£ i ] WINNING A HUSBAND. 33 
 
 I know to whom I have the honour of addressing vaj- 
 self ? 
 
 Jen. You are, I presume, Mr. Q. X. 
 
 Sir R. The same. 
 
 Jen. As I have the pleasure to address the principal 
 in this atfdir, i make no scruple in disclosing my name. 
 My card, sir. 
 
 Sir R. [Reading the card.] " Lady Dorothea Dashly." 
 Madam, you do me much honour. The weather is 
 warm — will you allow me to disencumber you of this 
 superfluous covering. [OJering to take her veil. 
 
 Jtn. Sir, I should be most happy to be relieved, but 
 the rules of decorum scarcely permit it. Our acquaint- 
 ance is but young, Air. Q. X., and, as yet, I am hardly 
 mistress of your views. 
 
 ■Sir B- They are rather too limited at present, madam ; 
 [^Pointing to the vei/.] but, I trust, my entreaty and your 
 indulgence may, ere long, extend the prospect, and 
 make us better acquainted. 
 
 Jen. There are but few things necessary, sir — I am, 
 as you perceive, an earl's daughter, and, like many 
 others of that rank in society, it is all I have to boast of. 
 I am young -how favoured, you are yet to learn. I 
 have been well educated, and fancy I could be rather 
 agreeable where my humour was studied, and very fond 
 of him who would strive to please me. 
 
 Sir R. [Asieie.] How modest, and yet how explicit! 
 bow elegant, and \et what humility ! 
 
 " Grace is in all her steps— lieaven in her eye, 
 In every dction dignity and luve." 
 
 Dear lady, you will easily imagine that I have not taken 
 this step without the hope of success ; but I assure you, 
 however sanguine my expectations have been, they are 
 realised — yea, surpassed by the suavity of your deport- 
 ment, and the condescension of your demeanour. Suffer 
 me to remove the veil. 
 
 Jen. No, pardon me : as yet all is fair enough, but 
 should I reveal the only secret I have in my power 
 
 Sir R. The conquest would be complete, and I should 
 be yours for ever- 
 
 Jen. No, no, my dear Air. Q. X., the flame that is 
 easiest kindled soonest burns out — I have a little ballad 
 on the subject : I see you have a harp here — are you a 
 musical man i
 
 24 WI.VNING A HUSBAND. [ACT I. 
 
 Sir R. No performer, but an enthusiast in my adniira* 
 tion of the art , the instrument is my sister's. 
 
 Jen. V\ ell, then, if you will not think me too bold, 
 and will promise to be lenient in your criticism, I will 
 emJeavonr to give you the trifle without further cere- 
 mony, in the best way I an) able. [Sid dou-ii to the harp. 
 
 Sir K. Vou are all obliging. [.4sirte.] A Venus ! «hat 
 a hand and arm — how delicately they set off the brilliant* 
 that encircle them. I attend your ladyship. 
 
 SONG— Jenny Transit. 
 
 Ye lovers, atli^mt to my song — 
 
 Alleiid, )e whose sensitive tiearts 
 By pasi-iuii aie liurried aiuiig, 
 
 Uiiliee<lin<; tlic pangs she iinparti. 
 Arrest her sweet pro^iess, 1 pray, 
 
 'I will saveje much soi row aud tean } 
 For the luve that is burn o( a day 
 
 Is luu feeble tu linger tbiuugb years. 
 
 The flame that bnrns brisjhlest sooii diet— • 
 
 The torrent will dr.iiii it> resource,— 
 The gHiidieft hue soonest Hies, — 
 
 'Ihe whirl tiiid exhausts all its force. 
 Then, oh, let your baik idly stray, 
 
 \\ heie the ralin in love's <icean appear* ; 
 For the li.ve that is burn of a day 
 
 la too feeble to linger through years. 
 
 Si'- R. Bravo! bravo! my dear lady D., — sure 'tis no 
 mortal strain, but "soft music of the tuneful spheres" — 
 my soul is wrapped in ecstasy and love — I ant subdued. 
 
 Jen. Well, my good Mr. Q. X.., we seem to have a 
 belter understanding of each other than might have been 
 expected from so short an acquaintance. You appear 
 satisfied, and I cannot be otherivise. 
 
 Sir R. Your ladyship is flattering. Grant me but the 
 favour of one glance from those beaming e\es 
 
 Jen. It must not be ; ere I can make a linal surrender, 
 it is necessary to capitulate. Now, pray my dear con- 
 queror, state )our terms. 
 
 Sir R. Terras ! there w ill be no term to our happiness, 
 I trust. 
 
 Jen. That looks rather evasive ; however, as you 
 seem reluctant to mention yours, listen to mine : univer- 
 sal dominion, a handsomij jointure, a splendid equipage, 
 and the liberty of visiting, galltintiiig, scandalizing, 
 gaining, and squandering, w hatsoever, howsoever, w hen- 
 soever, and wheresoever 1 please. These are the pri-
 
 SCENE l.J WINNING A HUSBAND. 25 
 
 vileges due to my birth, and to the wife of Sir Roderick 
 Strangeways ; you see I know, my man ; nay, no ques- 
 tion or expostulation — I'll grant you a few minutes for 
 consideration ; allow me to retire into this chamber; 
 wiien your mind is fixed, you may show your face ; and 
 then, if you accede to my wislies, I'll show mine. 
 Adieu I [Eiit into No. 3, R. d.s. E. 
 
 Sir R. Here's an end of my period of celibacy ; to be 
 sure, the terms are rather hard — gaming and gallanting 
 — oh, no ; by the beard of Mahomet, I can't allow those 
 two articles; I must try to dissuade her from them. 
 Oh, Lady Dorothea ! dearest Dorothy I Dorothy !— 
 Why, I vow it is nothing more nor less — egad ! when- 
 ever I dine at home, I shall think myself at Dolly's Chop- 
 house ; it is a wretched taste, certainly ; but, however, 
 the odium is not hers ; no, her sponscirs must answer 
 for that, along with the rest of their responsibility, and 
 then Dorothea is not so mucji amiss. Lady Dorothea, if 
 I can but expunge the obnoxious articles, our treaty is 
 complete. \_Loud ktwckhig,L, 
 
 Jen. ^Without, L.] I tell you, Skip Jack, I will go up, 
 Davy. [Without; L.] 1 tell you, ma'am, 1 must not ad- 
 mit you. 
 
 Re-enter Davy and Jenny Transit, at the stage-door^ t., 
 disguised as Mrs, Deborah Giiskin. 
 
 Jen. Stand aside, you varlet ; vhat, vould you come 
 for to go to wes a voman of my respectabijity ? — You're a 
 wile willin. 
 
 iSJr R. What does this mean, Davy ? 
 
 Davy. Mean, sir! 1 doesn't know what it means : this 
 lady declared she would come up, whether or no ; and 
 when I said it were an unpurlite act, she threatened to 
 interduce her claws if I didn't stand aside. 
 
 Jen. Odd rabbit it, sir ; send that hare imperent warlet 
 out o' the room ; I vishes to say a vord or two to you. 
 
 •Sir R. Davy, leave the room. 
 
 Duty. Ees, sir : ecod I she be at un again. [Fxif, l. d. 
 
 Sir R. [Hauditig achair.] Now, madam, at your service. 
 
 Jen. Veil, sir, you must know as how my name is 
 Deborah Griskin ; I am the relics of poor old Gregory 
 Griskin, the pork butcher, in Vitechapel. Ize young-, 
 and strong, and hearty, the Lord be praised for it. I 
 has no cumberances, neither chick nor child ; and I 
 comes for a hancer to that hare letter— the billy-dux vat 
 c
 
 29 WINNINfi A HUSBAND. [aCT I. 
 
 I senrt you by the two-penny post, concarning love and 
 matrimony, and all that hare 
 
 iSJr R. Zounds and fury ! here's a transition ! — Why, 
 madam, as to the answer, I have not quite made up my 
 tnind. 
 
 Jen. Oh, Muster Q X., don't be partickler, cause vhy, 
 I is nut; my poor dear Griskin, what's dead and gone, 
 used to wow as how, that Deb, as he called roe, vas voa 
 of the visest and most wirtuousesl voaiea about our 
 oei^hbourhood. 
 
 Sir R. My good woman, you have certainly made 
 some mistake ; you do not at all correspond with the 
 description contained in the advertisement. 
 
 Jen, Vhy, your advertisement vas for a vife, vasn't it? 
 Veil, arn't I capable? — Vou vanted a voman of family; 
 Tell, my father had a wery large von, sixteen on us, boys 
 and gais — veil, you talked sumniut about accomplish- 
 ments — veil, I is reckoned to have a wery capital eddi- 
 cation, I vent twice through the spellin-book and vorked 
 a sampleter at Mrs. Tickletails establishment for young 
 ladies, in Petticoat Lane ; and then I bad a quarter's 
 dancing of Muster Hopkins, in the City ; and for driving 
 a bargain and filling the skin of a sassage, there's not 
 my feller in Lunnun, though I says it vot shouldn't. 
 
 Sir R. Zounds, woman ! I say you vyon't suit — must 
 I be tormented in this manner? 
 
 Jen. Oh, bless you, I doesnt mind all that hare, I'ze 
 mortal glad vot you shows your temper aforehand, I 
 likes you the better; but I sees you are rather a colt, 
 and to show you I be not come for to take you hin, look 
 bere — see, I've got property — yes, two hundred pound 
 beside stock in trade ; and if I fiuds you banser my hex- 
 pectation, vhy, I'll make it all your hown the inorninf 
 barter ve be spliced. 
 
 Sir R. Damn the devil and all his imps, I say, whe- 
 ther in petticoats or otherwise — here, Davy ! Davy ! 
 
 [Crossing to Lt 
 
 Re-entc Davy, L. D. 
 
 Davy. What, another customer for I, sir ? 
 
 Sir R. Yes, Davy; in the name of patience and de- 
 cency, dispose of her somehow or other. [Crotses to lu 
 
 Jen. lliisinf;.] Vhy, you vou't leave me, vill you ? 
 
 Sir R. Davy, take care of this lady till my return — gooii 
 by, Mrs. Griskia — cuofuslou ! lEj.it, at tfte sCuge'dotn-f A.
 
 SCENE I.] vVINMNC A HUSBAND. 27 
 
 Jen. Good by — my sarvice to you — ILaiighing.'] Ha 
 ha, ha ! 
 
 Davy. [Laughing.'] Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Re-enler LvciKU\, from A'o. 7, C. D. r, 
 
 Lve. (k. c.) Excellent, my dear Jenny ! — AVhat, routed 
 again? — You deserve to be a field-marshal. 
 
 Jen. (c.) No, merely of the artillery company ; tills 
 is one of my f:reat guas ; my last attempt was in the ca- 
 pacity of a sapper and miner, but I must away, — be 
 Ijrm, heart, and a few more sallies will complete the 
 victory. [Exit into No. 4, L. D. s. E. 
 
 Luc. Well, Davy, if our plot succeeds, you shall not 
 go unrewarded. 
 
 Daiy. (l. c.) Oh, Lord. IMiss Lucinda. don't mention 
 it. I is a cliampiDg, as master sajs, and fights without 
 fee or reward. 
 
 Luc. Thou art a valiant body containing a generous 
 soul, and we will not forget thee. 
 
 [Exit Lucinda into No. 7, C D. F. 
 
 Davy. So, they are gone, and now for master. [Cros*- 
 ing to R.] Hullo, sir ! I've put the little fat un iuto No. 4. 
 
 Re-enter SiR RonEUiCK Strangeways, at the stage-door, ■. 
 
 Sir R. Into No. 4? why didn't you put her into the 
 street? — Ods blood I she is only fit for the queen con- 
 sort of V\ at Tyler or Sir JelTery Dunstan. 
 
 Davy. Why, do you know, sir, when I offered to show 
 her down, she swoie she'd show me up ; then 1 ax'd her 
 if she'd allow me to usher her into No. 4, and says she, 
 " I am master of you and your betters :" then, says I, 
 let me op^n the door, and she told me to shut my taty- 
 trap. ()h, what a rum un she be. [.4 double hiiKk, L. 
 
 Sir R. Some one else approaches — see who it is, 
 
 Davy. 
 
 Diiry. E'es, sir, I wool. [faif. l. d. 
 
 Sir R. I get weary of this examioation, it's as bad as 
 old Falstaff and his recruits. 
 
 Re-enter Daw, at the stage-door, L. 
 
 Sir R. Well, Davy, who have we now? 
 
 Davy. M'hy, a Frenchwoman, Madmousle Marrow- 
 spoon, I think she calls herself; she says she wants a 
 genteel home, and talked something about a Moor, but 
 C2
 
 28 WINNING A HUSBAND. [ACT I 
 
 whether she meant a blackey-moor, T can't say. I'll 
 call lier up, shall I, sirl — Walk up, Miss Marrowspoou, 
 walk up. 
 
 EiUer Jenny Transit, at the sta^e-dnnr, i.., dh^uised at 
 ALidemoiselle Marosqitieau, a French Figurante. 
 
 Davy. This be Madmoisells Marrowspoon. 
 
 Jen. Ah ! vous avez tort — de la marosquieu — de la, 
 vojez vous — de la ^ votre service. 
 
 Diivy. [Aside.] Oh, very well, dealer in marrow-spoons 
 at your service — there she goes again. [h'.xit, L. D. 
 
 Jen. Ah, Monsieur, je vous deinande pardon — I am 
 sorry to keep you on little demi-heure, but de coche ni'a 
 detenu by de break of his vheel. J'espere que vous 
 n'6tes pas engage, me hope de oder ladies, mes rivaux, 
 1)0 take away your heart from me — Antoinette, votre 
 pauvre Antoinette. 
 
 Sir R. Oh, non, machere. [ylsirfe] She looks interest- 
 ing ; I wonder what sort of physiognomy she boasts- 
 
 Jen. Ah, monsieur, vous avez raison — you no see de 
 visage — eh bien — dites moi — tell me if you have de love 
 for me, and den me show you. 
 
 Sir R. Ah, my dear mademoiselle, look in my eyea 
 and read the torments of my heart. 
 
 Jen. Eh bien, monsieur — allons done — me make de 
 
 conquete and nie draw aside de curtain — eh bien, voil^ ! 
 
 [6/ie dances, takes off' the veil, and eiit into No. 5, R. D. F. 
 
 Sir R. What grace ! what elegance ! what dignity !— 
 wiiat ease! — what expression ! — and then the name- 
 Antoinette ! — here's a fixer ! — a perfect grappling-hook, 
 that sinks deep within my breast, and bids me own her 
 lord of the rich territory. In her, the loves and graces 
 combine. She is the paragon of womankind I — thea 
 what a delicious broken English — how sweetly simper- 
 ing — oh, 'tis plain I'm overpowered — Cupid has often 
 wounded me before, but till now the barb has never 
 taken hold of my heart — I feel it rankling here— deep as 
 though he had borrov\ed an ancient cross-bow to etl'ecf 
 bis purpose — heigho ! who would have thought that a 
 few turns and capers could have shaken out ttie recol- 
 lections of Lady Dorothea— the charming Lady Dorothy. 
 Dorothy! Antoinette! — " What is there in a name ? pro- 
 nounce them togetlier, Dorotliea sounds as well as An- 
 toinette; conjure with them, Dorothy will raise a ghost 
 as soon as Antoinette." Ob, no, no — the simile is bad,
 
 SCtNEl.] WINNING A HUSBAND. 29 
 
 they do not sound equally well, and as for the conjura- 
 tion, egad ! here's pretty good proof what spells and in- 
 cantations proceed from the dear Frenchwoman. 
 
 [A loud single k/iock. 
 
 Re-enter Davv, at the stage-door, L. 
 
 Dnry, Here be another on 'em, sir. 
 
 Sir R. " Another, and another, and another ! — I'll see 
 no more." 
 
 Diivy. Ay, but she says you must see her — she be 
 come a great many miles, and it were a shame and a pity 
 to disappoint such a pretty creature. 
 
 Sir R. Pretty, is she? — Are you sure? 
 
 Davy, t'es, sir, I ha' seed her ; she had no curtain 
 over her face — oh, such a delicate cowslip. 
 
 Sir R. Well, show her up. 
 
 Dav. E'es, I wool — walk up, my little cowslip. 
 
 Enter Jesny Transit, disguised as Bridget Buckthorn. 
 
 Jen, (l. c.) His honour will see me, then. Oh, how 
 happy I am. [Ejit Dmy, l. D. 
 
 Sir R. (c.) By heavens ! she is beautiful ! — See how 
 the roses and lilies are struggling for the supremacy in 
 her damask cheek ! — See, now, the gushing cherry emu- 
 lates her pouting lip — Flora and Pomona have lavished 
 all their sweets upon this emblem of rural innocence- 
 pray, my dear, what's your name ? 
 
 Jen. Buckthorn, sir. 
 
 Sir R. How pastoral I — The ancient Ruth, the lovely 
 Lavinia, the Shepherdess of the Alps, all must yield to 
 this— bul your Christian name, my dear? 
 
 Jtn. Bridget, sir. 
 
 Sir R. Oh, the devil ! there's a damper — Bridget, 
 Bridget — I shall never get over that — oh, no, no — it 
 operates like a pail of cold water on a fever patient — it 
 cools and exhausts at the same time. So, my dear, 
 what's your business? 
 
 Jen. I've no business, your honour. 
 
 Sir R. What brought you to town, my dear ? 
 
 Jen. The fly-waggon, your honour. 
 
 Sir R. Exquisite simplicity! — "Nature, when un- 
 adorned, is adorned the most." Innocence and ingenu- 
 ousness are the truest requisites for connubial felicity, 
 and in these particulars she is all accomplished. 
 
 Jen. Yes, sir, that were what brother Ralph said
 
 so WINNING A HUSBAND. [aCT I. 
 
 ■when he read yotir thingumbob in the paper. You are 
 accomplished, Brid;xet, says he, and as feytherhas such 
 a family to keep, and so many on ua unable to assist 
 him, I thinks you had better go to Lunuun and try your 
 forlin — and so I corned, your honour. 
 
 Sir R. 'Ilie Arcadian age revived ! 
 
 Jen. He you the young gentleman who wants to make 
 ma-ma- lerimony alliance, 1 think brother Ralph calls it. 
 
 Sir R. Yes, sweetest primrose. 
 
 Jen. Oh, then, brother Ralph said I were to tell you 
 all I can do. In the first place, I reads, writes, hems, 
 sews, and spins — then I be a tolerable washer and ironer 
 — I can make butter and cheese, and puddings, and 
 pies; brew, hake, pickle, preserve 
 
 Sir R. Heaven preserve me ! what a pickle I am in ! 
 
 Jen. Then, sir, in the second place, I can comb wool, 
 knit stockings, patch old breeches and jerkins, say the 
 church catechism, feed pigs, fatten poultry, milk cowa, 
 and make a rare syllabub. 
 
 .S(r R. Oh, that I were sipping a syllabub of your 
 manufacture ! — And, ray little Phillis, is this all you can 
 do? 
 
 Jen. Yes, sir ; but I am very willing to learn, and 
 will try to make myself useful in every compacity. 
 
 Str R. Delectable goodnature! — I shall endeavour 
 to put your abilities to the proof, my dear. 
 
 Jen. Thank ye, sir. 
 
 Sir R. One kiss, you little charmer, as an earnest 
 
 Jen. La, sir — well, sir, one, but no more at present, 
 from your humble servant, Bridget Buckthorn . 
 
 Sir R. [h'iises her.] Nectar, by Jove — Jove! he's a 
 poor paltry fellow, and never had such a Hebe as this. 
 
 Jen. I vow, sir, you buss one like a true gentleman. 
 
 Sir R. Step into this room, my charming little Buck- 
 thorn, and you shall find me both gentle and true. 
 
 Jen. But be sure that you be'nt going ti> do anything 
 naughty, though ; brother Ralph told I to mind what I 
 were ahout. 
 
 Sir R. Oh, never — step in, my dear, and trust to my 
 liononr. 
 
 Jen. O, but brother said I must take care of my own 
 honour, and not trouble myself about other people's. 
 
 Sir R. I will hold it sacred with my life. Good by ! 
 
 Jen. [Courttiying.] Good by, sir. 
 
 \Eiit Jenny, into No. 6, L. D. F.
 
 SCENE 1.] WINNING A HUSBAND. Sl' 
 
 Sir R. My heart is precisely in the situation of a coun- 
 try disturbed by civil war, wliere the opinion of that party 
 predominates which is last victorious. On one side is 
 he fortress of Lady Dorothea; on the other, the en- 
 trenched camp of the enchanting Antoinette; while 
 here, precisely in the centre, the forces of victorious 
 Bridget are bivouacked, and ready to renew the engage- 
 ment. Ecod ! I'm like an alderman at a city feast, where 
 the profusion is great, and one knows not at which end 
 to begin, ("ity feast! — I'gad, a good thought! her 
 ladyship will make an excellent standing pie, and the 
 little country blossom may serve for a side-dish, a sort 
 of a lunch, to take off the keen edge of one's appetite; 
 but then, what's to become of the French fricassee? Oh, 
 I'm bewildered in a chaos of excellence. Yonder I see 
 Lucinda ; come, sister, I am surfeited. Enter upon your 
 jodicial capacity, and set the question for ever at rest. 
 
 Enter I^vcivo A, from No. 7, c. D. F. 
 
 Luc. (c.) What ! wo'nt you examine a few more ? 
 
 Sir R. (l. c.) Heaven forbid! the good fill me with 
 anxiety, the evil with disgust. T have had enough, and 
 to your arbitration I must submit at last. Know, then, 
 that here I have a bonny lassie from the Highlands, in- 
 teresting, but pedantic ; here, a poetical old maid ; here, 
 an earl's elegant daughter; here, a shrewd butcher's 
 widow; here, a graceful French Terpsichore ; and here, 
 an innocent sister of a country bumpkin. 
 
 Luc. A'ariety enough ; you can't, surely, be at a loss? 
 
 Sir R. Ye-, but I am: the dilliculty is, to make the 
 election. 
 
 Luc. I can put you in a way to obtain them all. 
 
 Sir R. Why, Lucinda, my dear, what has become of 
 your country modesty ? 
 
 Luc. It's true ; I can make you master of all the in- 
 terest, poetry, elegance, shrewdness, grace, and inno- 
 cence, which at present bewilder you, — nay, I vow it, 
 and all united in the single person of 
 
 Sir R. Of whom, Eloisal Petrach's Laura? The 
 Maid of Orleans ? or the Beauty of Buttermere J 
 
 Luc. Of my dear Jenny Transit. 
 
 Sir R, Psha ! the very name chills me. — it runs 
 through my heart like a stab from her father's rusty old 
 broadsword. [A loud double knock, L. 
 
 Jen. IWiihout, L.] Arrah, now, be aisy ! I must see 
 
 i
 
 32 WINNING A HUSBAND. [ACT I. 
 
 the gentleman, so spare yourself the trouble of denying 
 him. 
 
 Re-enter jenny Transit, at the itas,e door, L., disguised at 
 Emign Thaddeus O' Transit, 
 
 Jen. So, Sir ; I presume you are the illegant Mr. Q. 
 X.? By my soul, you are well titled! for youVe as 
 cross as the one, and as awkward as the other. Nay, 
 sir, don't splutter; I'm told you have my sister in close 
 custody here, [Shows a pistol.] and I have brougiit this 
 little writ of habeas corpus to set her at liberty. 
 
 Sir R. (c.) Sir, you are mistaken ; there is not a person 
 of your country in the house. 
 
 Jen. Zounds, sir ! there is no necessity for that. My 
 sister is an English, and I am an Irishman ; no matter 
 for that, she is my sister, and, by my soul, we should 
 have been twins, if she hadn't made a slight mistake 
 and popped into the world just nine months before nie. 
 
 Sir ft. Pray, sir, may 1 know whom Ihave the honour 
 to receive in my apartments? 
 
 Jen. By my faiih, sir, you have the honour to receive 
 an honourable fellow. Ensign Thaddeus O'Transit, of the 
 Kilkenny Flamers, son of Colonel Transit, and brotiier 
 to a sweet little lass as ever brushed the dew from a 
 shamrock, Jenny Transit, whom I have traced to this 
 house, and wiiom I intend to set at liberty, by locking 
 her up fast in these arms. 
 
 Sir R. Thaddeus O'Transit ! Lucinda, my dear, what 
 does this mean 1 O'Transit ! it must be an imposture ! 
 
 Jen. Impostor! If you utter that word again, by the 
 left hand corner of St. Patrick's right eye, I'll impose 
 upon you in a way that may prove fat from agreeable. 
 Sir, the wife of a military man cannot bring forth chil- 
 dren when and wherever she likes. I was born while 
 my father was on duty in Duhlin, and I choose to add 
 the O' to my name to preserve a family distinction. The 
 boys of old Ireland deserve that honourable continuation 
 at the beginning of their paternal names; for, abroad or 
 at home, in love or in war, they are sure to make their 
 opponents cry O, before they are done with them ; and 
 that will be your late, honey, if you don't immediately 
 restore my dear Jenny. Zounds, sir! you must be a 
 perfect Turkish Bashaw, for your host informed me 
 you had six or seven ladies with you ; surely, you can 
 spare one.
 
 SCENE I.] WINNING A HUSBAND. 33 
 
 Sir R. I pledge you my honour she is not here. 
 
 Jen. Botheration, sir, I'm not a pawnbroker! and if I 
 were, such a dirty article as you ofTer me is not worth 
 making out a duplicate for. No, sir, I've nothing to do 
 witii the three balls, — two will be sufficient to give one 
 of us a quietus ; so, take this little gentleman, IFresenting 
 a pistol.] and put away that little lady ; go to your post 
 at the other end of the room, and 111 do my best to make 
 you as dead as a post for the rest of your lite. 
 
 Luc. For heaven's sake, sir, put up \our pistols! 
 
 Jen. Oh, you prefer to stay and see fair play ? Well, 
 my dear, don't be alarmed, I'll kill him as quietly and 
 elegantly as a gentleman would wish to die. 
 
 Luc. [Tahirig his arm.'] Nay, my dear Mr.Thaddy, I in- 
 treatyou to hear a little reason. 
 
 Jen. A little reasou? Well, my little reason, I'll hear 
 whatever you have to say, though I think you are quite 
 big enough for a prune ; and since, my dear, you put 
 yoursslf under my protection, I'll do my best to save 
 you from this modern Blue Beard. Come along with 
 me, honey ; and for you, sir, allow me to say, since you 
 have made free with my sister, I shall take your's into 
 keeping ; she'll make a very pretty hostage. Come 
 along, my little reason, show me to jour chamber. The 
 girls often tell me I am as sweet as an almond, and, you 
 know, almonds and raisins are best together ; so, a fig 
 for you, old Blue Beard ! 
 
 [£iei(j(( I.ucinda and Jenny Transit into No. 7, CD. F., and 
 lock the door. 
 
 Sir R. Here's a pretty business ! to be insulted in my 
 own apartments, to be bullied by a confounded Irish 
 brazen-face, to have my sister forced away before my 
 eyes — locked up in a chamber with a fellow, whose 
 national characteristics are amorousness and impudence, 
 —it's too bad ! it's past endurance ! and all this for the 
 odious Jenny. 1 must take some steps to recover her. 
 Here, Davy, sound an alarum ! — Bring hither your 
 kitchen poker, it will serve for a battering ram. 
 Diwy. [Withinu.] E'es, sir. 
 
 Sir R. If ever it should be my lot to see this odious 
 Jenny more, I will show her with what contempt my in- 
 sulted pride can treat her. Why, Davy, I say, I glow 
 with inipatience — I paut — I fum« — I rage«~I burn t
 
 34 WINNING A HUSBAND. [acT L 
 
 Enter Davv, with a rea-hot puker, and burju him. 
 
 Dav. I expected you would, sir. 
 
 Sir R. Zounds and the devil! instantly break open 
 yon door ; — a vile seducer has conveyed my sister there, 
 and refuses me admittance. 
 
 Diiry, All, them sort o'folk don't want a third person ; 
 however, we'll soon bring their wicked deeds to light, 
 and so, here goes. Come forth, thou vile seducerer ! 
 
 [Breaks opeti the dnor and liiscmeis Jennu Tramit in a morn' 
 ing dre>:i, and Lucinda seated on a snfa. 
 
 Sir R. What do I see !~ Where is" he ?--Who is this I 
 
 Enter Jennv Transit and Lucinda, /rom No. 7, c. d. f. 
 
 Jen. No vile seducer, but your obedient servant. 
 
 Luc, Jenny Transit, at your service, (^ome, brother. 
 I told you I could put you in a way to obtain all the 
 qualifications you have admired to-day. And now, I 
 trust, I have put their possessor in a way to obtain— 
 you [CrwAM to R. 
 
 Sir R. I am bewildered ! enchanted ! spell-bound ! — 
 It is she, — I see through it all. She has put on these 
 disguises to prove to me how superior her talents and ac- 
 complishments are to what I have given her credit for. 
 
 Duty. Have you any further use for the poker, sir? 
 
 Sir R. Oh, no ! never mention the poker again, Davy ! 
 
 Davy. Well, she ha' won him fairly, that's sartin. 
 Seven's the main, they say, and,ecod I to my thinking, 
 she ha' acted her seven parts main well. 
 
 Sir R. The odds have been against me, and Tve lost 
 the game. 
 
 Jen. I am glad to find you submit ; and now, if the 
 gallant cavaliers will forbear to quiz us, and the fair 
 ladies withhold their scandal, we may, perhaps, repeat 
 our game, and show them the art of Winning a Husband. 
 
 DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE 
 FALL OF THE CURTAIN. 
 
 Ldcinda« Sie Roderick. Jenny Transit. Davy.
 
 pp 
 
 3 1205 02087 7575 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
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