AH
AS
9 ^gl \nning a Husband
7 ^"~~ *'
PK
4970
M23 W5
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.)
. a
« CO 3
bC . o
N O ■!>
bo
cq J5^-^
^
CO
;-•
<1
.o
1
JO
Lenian.
Hunt.
Cathca
P3
o
tn
fi^
;-" iS y^
b
»p-l »— ' C— 4
w
„
ll^ff^f^
-«1
1^
3
g
CO
c^
00
anley.
ike.
larke.
^
-.J c: o
^
^
s
02 H^^
o
^ . • M
s
1
^r^f^
tK
.
Pi
w
H
o
CO
oo
11^
O
T-H
.... CO
u
li^ s ^
PC4
o
H
OQ
-«1
t.
o
w '
Pi
pji
pq
to
O
«!
s
<
<:
6^
S
V5
1
K
f-
z
5
O
O
»
•^
„
!5
n
M
ta
p
o
^
o
P3 >• 2
n" ^ O
£ <f P
t/3 ci cfi
2 < JS
<:
si
.«§£
. E H W
C W Q
H O Q
>5 & <
<;p a
H f. £-1
f; w >5
-,) o o
Q O "
~ ►- w
^
^^
• IJ
p
H
xn
O
o
I
c
«8c
i
to
o <^
3
c J. ?<
'■?.i: o
c-^ 8
•< .= «
1 c
S I §
W !;.2
PiJ< a,
p/t.
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
A A 001 409 770 3
',\,:- '^f^SJ'W'Mh'