PR 4803 HI 724 ^^^^= o |8 : - ^ I 3 is ^^^= 5 1 32 - o 1 y 9 s^^^ 5 1 1 o ij ES^C THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES l*^>+m i//y<*^ ^La ~T r r* ~f*^ X.E BlSGUI, ' ' t / < ' Knnk The Double Difguife. [Price One Shilling.] The Double Difguife, A COMIC OPERA $B Cm aC>: AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL I N DRURY-LANE. The SONGS SET TO MUSIC Bv Mr. HOOK. L N D N: mted for j. BELL, at the British-Library, Sirand, MDCCLXXXIY, DRAMATIS PERSONS. MEN. Lord Hartwell Mr. Barrymore. Sir Richard Evergreen Mr. Parfons. Tinfel. Mr.Dodd. Sam [a Pojlillion) Mr. Burton WOMEN. Emily Mifs Phillips. Mifs Dorothy Evergreen Mrs. Hopkins* Rofe [an Irijh Waiting-Maid) Mrs. Wrighten. Servants, &c. H I'/ The Double Difguife. A C T I. SCENEL A Room at an Inn. Tinsel and Sam difcoverzd. SONG. Tin/el. I. YOU may talk as you pleafe of grandeur and pow'r, But, give me a plenty of cafh : 'Tis money alone will enliven each hour, Tho' gravity calls it but trafh. For money the lawyers call forth all their wit, And the law for your ufe turn all ways ; For money the judges at Weflminfter fit : Then to money be given all praife. II. When ficknefs prevails, and the doclor you fee, Then the value of money both feel. When a tinker, turn'd preacher, high-mounted you fee; 'Tis money infpires his zeal. Our lords and great men on the woolpack difplay s All their eloquence, monies to raile : If ever the national debt they fhou'd pay, Then to money be given all praife. -Ave, Sam, money will do all things. Why, fimple as we Hand here, what is wanting but money to make us as fine gentlemen as the bed of them as for vour part you are posi- tively an elegant fellow. [ 6 ] Sam. Why, to be fure, Mr. Tinfel, if we had the money we fhou'd be neither of us amifs. You have pofitively a vaft deal of wit. But what is wit without money ? 'Tis like a bridle without a bit 'tis like a chaife without horfes 'tis like a whip without a laih 'tis like Tinfel. A truce with your damn'd ftupid fimiles, and tell me, what is money without wit ? Give me wit, ready wit. Sam. Ready money will pafs more current by half tho\ Tinfel. What wou'd you fay, Sam, if my wit was to put you in the way of getting money much money plenty of money. Sam. O any thing, I'd fay or do any thing (the law on my fide) to get monev. Tinfel. Then lilten, and be rich. Sam. I'm all ears. Tinfel. You mull afrift me in a fcheme. Sam. Any thing every thing but, Tinfel, you mull infure my neck. Tinfel. Nay, Sam, 'tis only to lie lie with a good grace this once and be a dull fneaking matter-of-fact fellow all the reft of your days. Sam. O never fear me I cou'd lie from my infancy I took it naturally. Tinfel. You know, Sam, about a fortnight ago, you drove me and my lord from Suffolk-Street, Charing -Crofs, to this inn. Sam. True. Tinfel. Recollecting that he had left fome papers of confe- quence behind him he return'd the next day on horfeback leaving us with the carriage, and all that Sam. Well he did fo. Tinfel. I believe you are perfectly acquainted with his bu- finefs in this part of the country, where he has never yet been. Sam. Yes, yes- you told me as how he was going to be married to a lady he never law and that, moreover you faid you thought he came with an unwilling kind of a willing- nefs. Tinfel. I thought fo, by the manner he receiv'd the news we were then in Paris ah ! fweet Paris 'twas there I fmifhed my education. Sam. Finifhed your education Oh, and pray where might you begin it ? Tinfel. In a company of {trolling players ; where I learn'd to ipeak and act with propriety but, it was in Pans I learn'd that fort of idle elegance, fo pleafing to the ladies. Sam, - [ 7 ] Sam. Ladies O Lord ! O Lord ! (I wou'd not be in his place when the moon changes.) [AJide. Tin/el. 'Twas there I learn'd to dance gods ! how I can dance I ihot a pretty brunetta by a random ftep. Sam. A random Hep. Tin/el. O yes a grace beyond the reach of art and fo I won Brunetta's little heart ha, ha, ha, 'twas the prettied little leering rogue. (Dances.) Sam. But, Mr. Tinfel, you forgot our money-matters, I'm afraid. Tin/el. I have not forgot my laft new ftep. (Dances.) Sam. I fay, Mr. Tinfel, I'm afraid you have forgot our monev-matters. Tinfel. Gadfo fo I did where was I ? Sam. In Paris dancing without grace. Tinfel. Ah, fo I was fo I was You muft know then * an uncle of my lord's, by his mother's fide, that he had never feen fince he was a child, died while we were at Paris, and left him a fine eftate here in Somerfetfhire, where he had long refuted provided he married a little country doxey, a god- daughter of his who has befides a large independent fortune. Sa.m. Good. Tinfel. Yes, the fortune's good very good but, I believe, my lord has no great fancy for the incumbrance for he did not wear his mourning with that cheerfulnefs one might expecl. Sam. I fuppofe he is not oblig'd to marry her. Tinfel. Why, no not abfolutcly oblig'd but he is to forfeit one half of the fortune, if the refufal comes from him but, to bufinefs 1 have juft received a letter, by which I find my lord cannot return this week which gives us time to make our fortunes. Sam. Make our fortunes as how, pray ? Tinfel. Why, Sam, you are dull horrid dull dull as a lofing gamefter ! Why I intend to go to Sir Richard Evergreen's, which I find is not more than fifteen miles from this place; perfonate my lord Hartwell; marry the lady; and Sam. Ha, ha, ha you pafs lor a lord that's good good, ifaith ha, ha, ha I fhall laugh myfelf fat. Tinjel. Come, come, Sam, be merry and wife, there is a tide in the affairs of men, as Shakefpeare tells us (and he knew a little) which, if once loft, can never [v. recovered. T-he tide now ferves, to your oars my lad, and tug away. Sam. [ * ] Sam. I'm afraid we mall have a hard tug with the wind and tide againft us. Tinjel. Well, well, tug away this once then reft upon your oars for life I have wrote a letter here it is in which I modeftly acquaint Sir Richard, that I, lord Hartwell, am at this place he, of courfe, invites me to his houfe I marry the lady and fettle an annuity on you. 'Tis as foon done as faid, Sam. Sam. I cannot help laughing, ha, ha, ha. TinjeU What does the fool laugh at ? Do you think, I, that can dance alamode de Paris, cannot accoft a lady ; or, do you fuppofe, that I, who have play'd the parts of BarbarolTa, Cato, and Abel Drugger, till the barn has been ready to tumble over my head with applaufe, cannot make love to a country girl. In vain have I ftudied to aft kings and princes, if I eannot reprefent a lord why, you fimpleton, 'tis the eafieft thing in the world a mere walking gentleman, with picktooth converfation, or rather no converiation at all what, you are laughing a^ain. Sam. Well, indeed I will not laugh any more (if I can help it.) ; Afide. Tinjel. Since I have been here, I have inquired into the family-affairs, and find, that the girl, befides her fortune, inde- pendent and dependent on her father, has great expectations from an aunt who lives with them, one that has fpent the laft twenty years of her life in repenting the follies of her youth; an arrant old maid, who has read romances till her brain is turn'd. Sam. But if we mould be difcovered. Tinjel. If we fliou'd we mult turn it off as a joke. Sam. But if they fliou'd turn us off the other way or fuppofe they mould lick us ! Tin fci Lick us! (vulgar dog) afide, I fhoul ! be glad to fee the man that dare attempt fuch a thing; zoundj ! I'd kill him and eat the rafcal ! Sam. That's right ; promife to eat all you kill ) befeech you. Tinjel. Whv do you fuppofe, you fneaking dog, that I have no metal in me ? Sam. All metal a man of metal brafs from head to foot. Tinjel. Well, well my lad, if yon follow mv advice we fhall accomplifh the tranfmutation without the philofopher's Hone; my brafs will be converted into gold, and you and I converted into good gentlemen. Sam But if the lady fhou'd refufe you. Tinjel. Refufe me ! that's good refufe me ! SON C. * C 9 ] SONG. Tinfdt I can dance and Ting and chatter ; I can flirt and I can flatter ; Then why fhou'd the lady refufe me. I can (hake my elbow neatlv ; I can drive a phaeton fweet!y ; P-ray fhew me a lord that outdoes me. Small talk to be fure they expect from a lord, With fmall talk 1 fancy I'll fit them : White teeth they expet and at every word Thus fimp'ring their beauty fhall hit them. Da Capo. I can, &c. Exeunt Tinjel and Sam. SCENE II. A Garden. Emily, Solus. SONG. In vain I feek the lonely grove ; In vain I fhun all focial joys : For here I meet the tyrant love, Wh'ofe cruel dart my peace deftroys. This is fure the moft unfortunate ciycumftan.ee, to take a fancy to my father's {reward, who I have not known a fort- night ; and that juft at a time when I was to have been intro- duced to a hufhand of mv father's choice, if I ma}- fo call a man he never faw. My worthy old godfather little thought how much uneafinefs he was bequeathing me when he took meafures to make me one of his own family. Cupid, offended becaufe he was not confulted on this bufinefs, has certainly thrown this misfortune in my way there is fomething fo amiable and gentleman-like about the youth, that I cou'd almolt adopt my old romantic aunt's notions, and imagine him a nobleman or gentleman in difguife. Heigh ho ! I have certainly acred imprudently however, in giving him an oppc r- tunity to declare himfelf my lover till 1 had more rational authority for inch a fuppofition. I carefully avoided him all day yefterday, and will if poffible for ever. Enter Rofe. Rofe. What! al! alone by vourown dearfelf: O mv fwect little jewel of a mill re is, I have found \'ou out ! IJ Emily . C t ] Emily. I fee you have. Ro/e. But you do not underftand my meaning madam ; have found out that you are in love. * Emily. You have. Ro/e. Troth I have, honey. Emily. And how did you make this wonderful difcovery, Rofe? Ro/e. Faith and troth, the fame way that wifer perfons than myfelf find out failings of their neighbours. I judge by myfelf. Emily. Then you have been in love by your own confeihon. Ro/e. Oh, -you may fay that ; hang it, never look fo for- rowful, but open your heart, and it will eafe you mightily. Emily. Why, Rofe, I think I may truft you. Rofe. To be fure you may, and never repent it faith and troth, you may truft little Rofe with all the fecrets of your heart. Emily. Lady O'Halloran, when fhe left you with me at Bath, told me you were fenfible, affectionate, and honeft. Ro/e. Oh, to be fine fhe did without any partiality at all, at all ! for flie was nurs'd by my mother, and fo fhe is my fofter- iifter but to have made Ihort of the matter, Ihe might have faid that I was an Infh woman. Emily. I thought that politenefs was more the chara6r.eriff.ic of the Irifh than fincerity. Ro/e. O, my dear mifs, in the little I have feen fmce I crofs'd the feas, I have obferv'd many that brag of their fince- rity, while their only reafon for telling difagreeable truths is, to gratify the rancour of their own hearts but you will always find an Irifh woman as willing to make others happy as fhe is to be happy herfelf oh, they are merry little creatures! Emily. I obferve, Rofe, that you boafl more of the good qualities of your country women than of your countrymen. Rofe. Oh, then, indeed you wrong my meaning mightily ! but I need not fav much for my countrymen, faith they can fpeak for themfelves, and they are mightily belov'd wherever they go 1 am fure at Bath they are all the faihion with widow, wife, and maid. SONG. I. Each pretty young mifs, with a long heavy purfc, Is courted, and flatter'd, and cai'ilv had : She longs to be taken for better orworfc, And quickly elopes with an Irifh lad. To be fure, fhe don't like a brilk Irifh lad. / [ ] II. - The wife, when forfaken for bottle or dice, Her drefs all-neglected, and lighing and fad, Finds delight in fweet converfe, and changes her fighs For the good-humour'd chat of an Irifh lad. To be fure, fhe don't like a brilk Irifh lad. III. The widow, in forrow, declines the fweet joys Of public amulement, in fable all clad. The widow, her twelvemonth in forrow employs ; Then haften to church with an Irifh lad. To be fure Ihe don't like a brilk Irifh lad. Emily. Leave me, Rofe, I fee Henry coming this way and want to give him fome orders wait on the terrace and I (hall follow you in a few minutes. Roje. Oh ! to be fure you don't redden in the cheeks at all, at all but mum. Exit. Emily. He has turn'd down another walk I fee, not ob- ferving me. All ! my fond heart rebels, and prudence at the fight of Henry yields to love. Am I to blame ? The jovely youth, to every pcrfonal charm, adds a folt elegance of man- ners, uncommon even in the higheft ilation ; his education has, I'm fure. been liberal ; fortune then alone is wanting. I will again converfe with him, and try to learn how a man, with his elegant accompiifhmfmts, cou'd fubmit to his prefent humiliating fituation there is finely fome mvftery in it, which I will, if poffible, draw from him. S O t. When firfl I met young Henry's eves His bofoin heav'd with tender fighs ; His eves fo bright, and fighs uid move My heart, to give him love for love II. But when my praifc he fwectly fung Such honey'd words dropp'd from his tongue: In vain agamft fuch charms I (trove. I gave my Henry love lor love. TIL C ** ] III. If truth adorns the gentle fwain, No more of fate fhali he complain ; While all my a&ions fondly prove, I give my Henry love for love. Enter Lord Hartwell. L. Hart. My deareft Emily ! Emily. Deareft Emily ! upon my word, fir. L. Hart. Overjoy 'd that I had at laft gain'd the wifh'd-for opportunity of fpeaking with you alone, forgive me if I forgot. Emily. 'lis plain, fir, you have forgot the difference of our fituations. L. Hart. How cou'd you fo cruelly avoid me yefterday ? Emily. Convinc'd of the impropriety of my late conducl, I confefs I did endeavour to'fhun you ; and by that means avoid a repetition of what was as unfit for me to hear, as you to utter, in your fituation. L. Hart. If I was fure my fituation was your only objection, and that I was not difagreeable to my beauteous Emily, I fhou'd be the happieft man in the world. Emily. How ? L. Hart. I will confefs the truth : I am not what I appear, but Emily. But what ? L. Hart. The happy lord Hartwell, defign'd by your father and my late worthy uncle to be your hufband. Emily. To what purpofe this difguife ? L. Hart. Though convine'd by this miniature of your beautv, I cou'd not refolve upon a marriage with a woman whofe manners might be truly difgufting, I therefore determined to fee and convene with you, and if I had not found you all lovely, as you are, I was alfo determined to pay the forfeiture without (hocking your delicacy, by letting you fuppofe I had feen and difapprov'd. Emily. I am all aflonifhment ! but how did you contrive to L. Hart. I fet off about a fortnight ago from London; on my arrival at a village, about fifteen miles from this, acrofs the countrv, I ftopp'd at the principal inn told my fervants I had forgot fome papers of confequence, and fet off, as they fup- pos'd, for London ; inflead of which I went to the houfe of Mr. Sharp, the attornev, who you know receiv'd my uncle's rents. Emily. [ *3 3 Emily. O ! I know him very well 'twas he that recom- mended you to my father. L. Hart. I made myfelf and my doubts known to him, and he being well convinc'd of your powerful attra&ions, knew alfo it was a certain way to fulfil the will of his late friend and benefaror ; he therefore confented to introduce me into the fa- mily as fteward, being employed by fir Richard to procure him one: in that humble fituation I have had an opportunity of obfer- vation, which as a vifitor 1 cou'd never have had. At the firft glance your beauty won a heart, which fweetnefs of difpofkion, wit, and accomplilhments, will for ever keep enflav'd. SONG. When beauty's fmiling queen alone, Prepaies the filken chain of love, The flave not long love's pow'r (hall own : For time will beauty's chain remove. But when Minerva lends her aid, With magic fpells each link is join'd. Tho' light as roly wreaths they're made, Enilav'd for life they hold mankind. Enter Rqfe in a Hurry. Rofe. O, my dear mifs, here is fir Richard and vour comical aunt coming this way talking very loud. L. Hart Let us retire my love ; I wou'd not be interrupted now for the world. [Exeunt. Enter Sir Richard and Mifs Dorothy. Dor. Sir Richard ? fir Richard ! I'm fhock'd at your inde- licacy ! what marry an infant, as I may call her and to refolve upon it without giving her lover time for hopes and fears ; he fhou'd figh away whole ages before. Sir R. But, hold Doll do you conftder the confequence or fighing away whole ages ? Dor. The confequences ! what con fequences ? Sir R. Wrinkles, Doll, wrinkles, why, damn it, you want her to be like yourfelf, an old maid but 1 hate to be rude. Dor. An old maid, brother! Sir R. [ 14 1 Sir R. Yes : an old maid I hope you don't difclaim that title for a worfe. Dor. Go, you rude monfter, wou'd you marry your daughter to the firft that offers ? Sir R. Aye, to be fure, for fear fhe might never have a fecond offer you know that was your cafe when you was about twenty; I remember it perfectly, tho' it is many, many years ago. Dor. Well, fir, to the point if you pleafe, we do not want to know how long. Sir R. Why, you know you had an offer and might have been well married but you, forfooth, banifh'd the young man for feven years, trulv, becaufe he had prefumptuoufiy declar'd his paffion out of the forms your romances laid down : damn all romances, I fay ! Dor. To be fure, fir Richard, there is a delicacy and deco- rum. Sir R. Damn all delicacy and decorum ! but it does not fignify talking, I expect my friend's nephew, lord Hartwell, every moment he is ready to fulfil his engagement; and my daughter mult and fhall obey, for fear he fhou'd do as your lover did. Dor. And what was that pray ? Sir R. Why, he left you to repent your delicacy (falfe deli- cacy I mean) and decorum and there's wrinkles for you as I told you before tho' I hate to be rude. Dor. Rude, brother Richard, why I am aftonifh'd at your impertinence ! but indeed one (hou'd not be furpriz'd at any thing you do or fay, after the very wife determination you have made of giving your daughter a hufband a new baby- houfe wou'd have been a more fuitable prefent. Sir R. I'll be fworn fhe docs not think herfelf too young for a hufband, any more than you think yourfelf too old for one ; matrimony is look'd upon by the women as their natural home, where one day or other they mutt all come the young think they are never too young, and the old think they are never too old. Ecce lignum but I hate to be rude. Exit. J a Enter Emily. Emily. What, in the name of good fortune, my dear aunt, have you been doing or faying to my father ? he feems quite out of temper. Dor. [ '5 1 Dor. He is always out of temper if one talks reafon to him. So, mifs, I hear your baby hulband is expecled. Emily. Oh, this has been the fubje6i of your debate then ! I own, my dear aunt, I did feel fome reluclance to this mar- riage ; but I don't know how it is, I find myfelf now as willing as my father wou'd have me. Dor. Willing ! mercy on me ! the age grows more and more indelicate every day but my advice is never attended to fo I leave you to repent it your own way. Exit, Enter Rofe and Lord IlartzvelL (Both laughing, Ha ! ha ! ha !J Rofe. What a comical old creature it is. L. Hart. Let us not wade a thought upon her my lovely Emily ! I lhall immediately make myfelf known to your father there is no occafion for further difguife where love and truth prefides. GLEE. Lord Hartwell, Emily, and Rofe. Fair truth, thou bright aufpicious pow'r, To thee we humbly bend the knee; 'Tis thine to blefs th' hymenial hour, All focial joys we feek in thee. Thy fmile ferene fhall cheer our way, Tho' clouds or ftorms fhou'd intervene ; Thy fmile, fair truth, (hall blefs each day, And brightly gild each future fcene. End of the Firfl M* A C T C 1.6 ] ACT II, Scene, a Parlour. Sir Richard, and Tin/el (difguifed as Lord HartwellJ difcovertd. Tin/el, I Don't know how it is fir Richard, but I have been fre* quently complimented on the family likenefs. Sir R. Not a whit : you are no more like the family of the Hartwell's (no difparagement to your lordfhip) than Harrico, my filler Dorothy's monkey ; but I hate to be rude come, come, let me fee, (putting on hisjpeclaclesj your mother had a fine hazle eye, but your's is of a queer walnut call ; then fhe had a high forehead, a Roman nofe, and but 'tis no matter, you are itill lefs like your father than your mother: you have a whimfical phyfiognomy indeed, my lord, egad. But come, don't let me put your lordfhip out of countenance with yourfelf it is for my daughter, and not me, to take exceptions to your perfon fit down, fit down ; I'll ftep and fee where fhe is. (A damn'd queer face, indeed, but I hate to be rude) ajide. Exit. Tin/el. So far fo good a whimfical old fellow this with his family face. I hope the young lady will not be fo fcrupulous about the family likenefs. She comes, fhe comes to crown my wifhes. Enter Roje. _ Roje. (Well, to be fure, I always faid that one handfome man was worth a thoufand of thefe lords O honey ! O honey ! what a creature it is I'd rather marry a bog-trotter without fhocs or (lockings.) Ajide. Tin [el. My dear. Uofe.. [ *7 1 koft. Sir TinfeL Did you fpeak ? Rofe. Oh no I faid nothing at all, at all, to be fure. (I hope he did not hear what I was thinking.) [Afide. Tin/el. (A little Irifli girl, by all that's lavage O, this muft be the waiting rentlewoman here I'm more at home fhe is exaftly the kind of thing I like.) afide. How long have you been caught my little dear ? [Taking hold oj her hand. Rofe. Long enough to know a fool when I fee him. TinfeL Can you love me, you little devil you ? Rofe. Mercy on me, my lord, I thought you came here to marry my young lady. TinfeL So I did : I came to marry her, and fall in love with you. Rofe. Oh, then, faith you came to mighty little purpofe, honey. TinfeL Why fo ? Rofe. Becaufe, my miftrefs means to marry a man and I hate ftrange faces. TinfeL (O, the devil ! fhe don't like the family face nei- ther.) afide. Come, come, confefs the truth ; you don't dif- like my face fo much, as you like fome happier fwain. Rofe. O you may fay that. 'TinfeL Come, tell me who he is what is he like ? Rofe. I can't fo well tell you what he is like, but 'tis all the fame, I fuppofe, if I tell you what he is not like. 'Tvfel. O, exactly. Rofe. Then he is not like you at all, at all, faith and troth, honey. TinfeL Moll likely, but I can do more for you than he can, perhaps : I can give you fine clothes, jewels, and a palace fit for a queen to live in : I die for that little round unthinking face of yours. Rofe. O, keep your fine things for her who has a heart to fell; while I enjoy ray Paddy's love and a clean cabin on the banks of Killarney. SONG. I. On the lake of Killarney, I fir ft faw the lad Who with long and with bagpipe could make my heart t>lad : And his hair was (o red, and his eyes were fo bright They fhone like the liars in a cold frofv nisjht. [ i8 ] So tall and fo ftraight my dear Paddy was feen Oh, he look'd like the faiiies that dance on the green. On the lake of Killamey, I iirfh law the lad "Who with fong and with bagpipe could make my heart glad. II. All the girls of Killarney wore green willow tree When hrft my dear Paddy fung love-tales to me ; Oh, he fung and he dane'd, and he won my fond heart : And to fave his dear life with my own I wou'd part. On the lake of Killarney, &c. [Exit. Enter Mifs Dorothy Evergreen. Tin/el. What a vixen ! (Gadfo, I am taken by furprife what tawdry old devil have we here O, this muft be the romantic old aunt well, I mufl talk to her in her own ityle, a little.) aftcie. What more than earthly light breaks upon my Tight fo breaks the morning o'er the wond'ring Weft 1 pre fume I fee Mifs Evergreen the faireft maid my eyes e'er faw vouchfafe, molt divine divinity, to finile and make me happy. Dor. My lord, my lord, I am no divinity : but, as you fay my fmiles can make you happy dread the effects of my frowns. Tin J'd. Excufe the fally, my pretty mifs; it was infpir'd by your mcomprehenfible charms. Dor. (What an air accompanies all he fays and does tho' an old maid as my kind brother was pleas'd to call me this morning: I lind I have Hill charms to itrike at firlt fight.) Tinfel. (A thought comes into my head as an old maid is eafier had in the way of marriage than a young one, I give up the idea of being my lord's rival ; for I find this old tabby has mod of the fpankers.) ajide. I fear my faircll fair that I have, prefuming on the purpofe of my vifif, declar'd the rapture of my heart too fuddenlv lor your delicacy ; but who can behold inch beauty and be blent. Dor. Why, my lord, is it poflible that you conceive me to be your intended bride. Tinfel. MolL certainly, or I mull he wretched for ever. Dor. Why, it is my niece that my brother has hitherto defigned for vour wife. Tuiftl. r >9 ] TinfeL Never, never I ne'er felt love till now and fhall I, in the fir ft moment of my joy, give up the hope of happi- nefs eternal ! ah, no : moll lovely fair, behold me at your feet, imploring, kneeling, dying I live and die for you (the devil's in it if that won't do ior the old cat.) [A/ide. Dor. O heavens ! what can you expect from me ? (O, I wifli my brother faw this.) [AJide. Tinjel. My happinefs from you, and you alone. Dor. But decorum and delicacy, my Lord, requires time : whole years, I flatter myfelf, wou'd not be ill-fpent to gain a heart like mine. Tinftl. (O the unreafonable old fnap-dragon.) aftde. But furely this is lofing a great deal of time, or ipending it to very little purpofe. Dor. How, Sir: do you think it wou'd be to little purpofe, if you gain'd the lady's hand at lall ? Tinftl. O no, no, no ; I don't abfolutely mean fo but when a man loves as I do he cannot brook delay. Dor. Indeed, my lord, I don't know what to fay to you : you know our fituation ; it is a delicate one: I blulh to own your perfon and manners have made an impreflion upon my tender heart : but, do you confidcr the forfeiture ? half tire efiate. 'Fulfil. The whole efiate, my angel, rather than rcfign my happinefs lovers all but love defpiie fhaii wc be happy ? SONG. I. How fvvift our time will pafs along When Hymen crowns our blifTes The hours we'll tell with cheerful long, The minutes count by kiffes. II. We'll dance and nng, we'll fport and play, No joy like lovers blilTes With melting muiic wake the day And keep the time with kiifes. Dor. Well, well, mv lord, there is no refilling; but I fear you will change vour mind, when vou Ice mv niece. Tin I'd. [ 20 ] Tin/el. When I prove falfe to thee, may my bell hopes for- fake me. Dor. I'll fee my brother, and endeavour to foften matters a little. Tinftl. Name the happy day. Dor. Indeed, my lord, I Tinfcl. Shall it be to-morrow. Dor. To-morrow heavens and earth, to-morrow well let it be fo from this time I have no will but your's. (I mull retire and endeavour to recover from the confufion this con- feffion has thrown me into.) afide. Adieu, my lord (An old maid, indeed!) afide. [Exit. Tinfd. Thus far we rufh before the wind, as king Thinga'me fays in the play; but I'll follow her clofe, and not lofe fight of her, till fne and her moveables are mine. [Exit. Scene, a Garden. Lord liartwell and Emily dif covered. Lord H. How fweet the fun-beams play o'er the current of of yon ftream how fweet the zephyrs fporting on each hawthorn hedge, perfumes this beauteous fpot fweet the eglantine, and fweet the rofe but not fo fweet, my Emily, as mutual love. SONG and DUET. I. Lord II, Hark, my fair, thro' every bufh, Songs of rapture fill the grove ; The linnet fweet and tuneful thrufh Warble tales of mutual love. Songs of rapture fill the grove, Warbling tales of mutual love. II. Emily, Hark, o'er yonder flow'ry plain, How fweetly cooes the plaintive dove, The umple clove my thoughts explain : All innocence and mutual love. How fweetly cooes the plaintive dove, All innocence and mutual love. nr. C 3 in. Both. May Cupid hear our vows of truth, And grant thofe vows propitious prove. No joy I wifh in age or youth, Unbleft with thee and mutual love. Emily. Well, my lord, your fcheme was certainly a good one ; but fuppofing you had not lik'd me, or I had not lik'd you, which, you know, was poffible. Enter Roje, in a Hurry. Rofe. Madam, madam, Sir Richard defires you will be pleafed to walk into the houfe, as my lord Hartwell is juft arriv'd. Emily. How, Sir what am I to think of this 1 fear your fcheme was deeper laid than I, in the innocence of my heart, imagined. Lord H. What can be the meaning of all this ! Emily. You feem confus'd, Sir. Lord H. Why, to be fure, madam, I am a little afloniuYd : but furely no change of fituation can alter the fentiments you have juft now profefs'd for me in fo folemn a manner. SONG. I. Ah why, my love, that falling tear My tender doubts and fears remove : If thou art juft, I ftill am dear, While true to thee and true to love. II. Whattho' no title grace my name, If you my artlefs flame approve : Such gaudy trifles 1 difclaiin ; Still true to thee and true to love. Emily. The conflict's over take my hand, Sir with a man of your fentiments I cannot be unhappy my fimple education has not given mc a relifh for the pleafurcs of high life 1 do not wilh for them and am detcrmin'd to fharc your fate, however humble. Rojr. [ ** ] Reft. That's right, that's right now, you arc the gene- rous good creature, I took you for : ah, my dear lady, how happy you have made me love for love, fay I, and a fig for fortune ! I have feen this fine thing of a lord ; he has been making; love to me, trulv but he is no more to be com- pared to Mr. Henry- Lord H. Rofe, you are a girl of fpirit, and fhall be rewarded for the generous concern you have expreffed upon my ac- count; my fweet Emily, I know, will join with me in encou- raging fentiments that flow pure from nature, and charm by their fimplicity. Where did you pick up this little Irifh ruftic ? Emily. My fervant left me while at Bath, and an Irifh lady whom I vifited requefled I wou'd take Rofe into my fervice till her ladyfhip's return from Paris, where fhe intended fpending fome months, as Rofe did not underftand the lan- guage ; fhe might have ftay'd with my aunt at Bath, but the Bath air did not agree with her. Rofe. Oh, it did not agree with me at all, at all ; and I am mightily obliged to you for taking me away from it, for I am certain, if I had liv'd there till this time, I fhou'd have been dead long ago. Emily. Well, Rofe, if you prefer this country to your own, I (hall be glad to make it as agreeable as pofTible to you. Rofe. O, my dear mifs, I fhall be mighty forry to leave 3'ou ; but little Ireland and the man I love, before all the world ! SONG. I. lor the grafTy turf o'erhung with willow, Where reeds and oziers fringe the lake. At early dawn I left my pillow, One among, the merry maids to make ; The fir ft of May, So blithe and gay, Where the merry, merry maids a Maying go, II. One drooping willow form'd a bower Where Paddy's voice foon caught my ear; The morn was fweet, and foft the hour, But iweeter far his fon to hear. Of me he fung, My prailcs rung, -.ere the merrv, merry maids a Maying eo. III. C *3 ] III. When troops of village lads and lafTes, Hail'd and crown'd me queen of May, My Role, he cry'd, each maid furpaffes ; So fhall my love feel no decay. Then vows of truth I gave the youth, Where the merry, merry maids a Maying go. [Exit. Lord II. Thy truth fhall be rewarded, fwcet Rofe. How happy am I, my dearefl Emily, that you will be no lofer by a generofity that makes me the happieff. of men. I am, as I before told you, the very identical lord Hartwell, defigned for your hufband. Emily. Then who can it be that ufurps your name and title ? Lord II. Indeed I know not but who have we here as I iive, my poftilliou ! from him I hope for fome expla- nation. Enter Sam. Sam. Zounds ! my lord bv all that's unlucky nothing in the world, my lord, but a frolic an innocent frolic oi Tinfel's. He thought while your lordfhip was in London, he might amufe this family in difguife a little that's all, I al- lure you, my lord, that's all. Lord II. Difguis'd ! I am afroninVd. Emily. I find, by this fellow's confeffion, that you are the true lord Hartwell, and no counterfeit ; which, upon my father's account, gives me great pleafure ; and I feel mvfelf in fuch perfect good humour upon the occafion, that I cannot help in- terceding in your fervant's behalf come, my lord, you mult not let anger come acrois this happy hour- you mull fuppole this frolic as innocently meant, as it is like to prove in its confequences. Laid II Begone, fir, and '.hank this lady that von come off fo eafily and, do you hear, fir, as you value your ears, fay not a word of this to Tinlel. Sa?n. (). no, my lord, to he fine: mercy on us! what a commence ! | A'-.. . Lord II. Sir Richard, as I live, I'll away and change r:.\ drefs ; winch, I forefee, will produce fome !;>-::, ;; Tin! i . not appriz'd of lr.v being in .he houfe -adii/n, mv juve. i ' '". - [ H ] Enter Sir Richard. Sir R. Why, girl ! where have you been ? I have been wand'ring about the gardens and grounds this hour feeking you : why, my girl, there has been my lord Hartwell in the houfe I don't know how long and by this time, I dare fay, is quite impatient to fee you. Emily. The gentleman you mention, fir, I think cannot be very anxious about a perfon he never faw 1 am fure I am perfectly indifferent about him. Sir R. Emily, Emily, zounds ! what is the meaning of all this you won't pretend to diflike a man you never faw Emily. No, fir, nor will I pretend to like a man I never faw if, as my aunt fays Sir R. Let me not hear another word upon the fubje6r. Emily. Dear fir, you will not hear me 1 am all obedience, and am as ready to marry lord Hartwell, as you can defire : he has been with me till this moment, and is only gone to change his drefs. Sir R. Change his drefs! what a coxcomb! Emily. Indeed, fir, I think him a molt agreeable man. Sir R. (That's more than I do.) a/ide. That's well, that's well : and pray, did he feera to be mightily pleas'd with that baby-face of yours ? Emily. Indeed, fir, he faid much upon that fubjel- but men, you know, will flatter. Sir R. Yes: and women, I know, will believe but I hate to be rude. SONG. Emily. Amidfl: a thoufand fighing i'wains. Ne'er hope one true to hrm Soft tales of love, and artful ilrains Oft hide a fickle mind Each hill, each grove. Where lovers rove ; Each purling ftream, each noontide fhade ; All, all declare. How talle men are. How females are by love belrav'd. Sir R. Aye, aye, child, 'tis very true; but you are in no clanger of being betray \\ or deceiv'd, for, to do our fex juflice, they feldom endeavour to betray any but the poor and unprotected. Enter [ *5 ] Enter Mifs Dorothy Evergreen. Sir R. Hah ! Dorothy, are you there ? I have been running about the grounds, the Lord knows how long, hunting for my daughter ; but my lord has been more fuccefsful, he found his love; and has been converfing with her this half hour. Dor. Yes, brother- he has found his love and, tho' delicacy requires a longer time, yet has he gain'd the hand and heart of her he adores. Sir R. Why, I tell you, Dorothy, I am better pleas'd to find the young folks like each other ; but was determined at all events, to keep my word with my late worthy friend, his lordfhip's uncle. Dor. I am forry, dear brother, for your difappointment ; nor fhou'd I have confented, but I fear'a the lovely youth wou'd have fallen on his fword. Sir R. What the devil is all this ? I don't underftand a fingle fyllable of it ! Emily. I believe, fir, I underftand my aunt. Dor. Sir, to be fnort with you, my lord Hartwell prefers me, an old maid (as you vulgarly call'd me this morning) to your beautiful daughter has declar'd his palfion, and vow 'J eternal truth. Sir R. Why, how now, Emily ! did not you fay you had a long conference with my lord ? fure he does not mean to marry you both ! Emily. I told you, fir, if I might believe Sir R. Zounds ! he's a man of bufinefs I find fpen ds no idle time. I fuppofe, bv this time, he has declar'd the violence of his paffiou for Doll, the dairy-maid and Phoebe, the houfe- maid Enter Rofe. Rofe. And Rofe, the waiting-maid. Sir R. The devil he has ! Rofe. Oh ! he has indeed. Emily. Falfe man; he vow'd to live forme alone. Rofe. He fwore he'd die for me. Dor. For me he vow'd to live and die. Sir R. Why, what the devil am I to make of all this! the fellow lias not been in my houfe two hours, and he has gain'd over every female in the family already ! D Rofe. C *6 ] Rofe. Oh, indeed, I believe he is a mighty great rogue. Sir R, A rogue ! Rofe. As great a rogue as ever I faw in my life the prefent good company excepted. Sir R. O! we are prodigioufly oblig'd to you for the com- pliment but here comes my lord to anfwer forhimfelf. Dor. Aye, here comes my lord to anfwer for himfelf. Emily. Yes, madam, my lord will anfwer for himfelf. Enter Lord Hartzvell at one Door, and TinJ'el at the other. Emily. This, my dear Father, is the hufband defign'd me by Sir R. Peace, foolifh girl did you fuppofe I fhou'd not. know my own fleward again, becaufe he had chang'd his clothes ? Emily. Indeed, fir, this is my intended hufband. Sir R. What! marry my fleward! you mean fpirited baggage ! Emily. Believe me, fir, this is the true lord Hartwell, and the gentleman who has declar'd his paffion for my aunt, is no other than his valet : his reafon for appearing in this family in difguife, he will himfelf explain (turning to her aunt) you will foon be undeceiv'd aunt. Dor. Yes, yes, we (hall foon fee which is really a lord, and which a fervant. Enter Sam. Sir R. Come here, rafcal, and tell me which is your mafler. Sam. My lord, fir. Sir R. Directly tell me, without equivocation, which is your lord. L. Hart. Speak, you rafcal, and fpeak the truth, or you fhall lofe your ears. Tin/el. The annuity Sam. [afide to Sam!) Sir R. Come, fpeak firrah no coaxing, gentlemen, no coaxirg. Sam. (looking firjl at one and then at the other) Both. Sir R. Which are you afraid of ? Sam. Borh. Sir R. Don't rriflle thus, but fpeak the truth boldly. Sam. (), fir, I cannot fpeak the truth; for if I fav one thing- I fhaH'lofe my ears, and if I lay the other I fhall lofe --:' annuity. Sir R. [ *7 ] Sir R. Oh, Oh ! is that the cafe ? moft likely then they are both impoftors, and I fhall have my houfe robb'd here, John ! Tom ! Gregory ! Hodge ! Gregory, I fay ! Enter Servants. Sam. Hold, hold, fir, 'tis an innocent frolic as I hope to be fav'd. Sir R. You hope to be fav'd, you fcoundrel ! cou'd you find no place for your frolics but my houfe ? Tinfel, Nay, Sam, this is not fair (I am betray 'd and deferr- ed) fince 'tis fo, I will confefs the whole matter, and make all polfible amends by owning my true and lawful lord and mailer. Sir R. You impudent rafcal ! did you think you cou'd im- pofe upon me with that phiz ? why I fee the rougue in your face. Tinfel. What the devil have I a looking-glafs in my forehead ! Sir R. No refle&ions, fir ; no reflections. L. Hart. Begone, fir, to the duty of your ftation ; and if I am not thoroughly convine'd of the innocence of your inten- tion, expect, no mercy. Tinfel. I've not only loft my title, my wife, and fortune, but my place into the bargain I'll go hang myfelf a rope ! a rope ! my kingdom for a rope ! Exit. Sam. I hope your lordfhip will forgive I hope your lord- fhip's good nature. L. Hart. Follow your leader; and thank my good nature that you cxift. Exit Sa?n. Emily. I told you, aunt, we fhou'd foon find which was the true lord Hartwell. Sir R. But, Doll, you was in great ha fte, fare, to fnap up this fuppos'd lord I'm afraid you forgot delicacv and decorum a lover Ihou'd figh whole ages you know, ha! ha! ha! but I hate to be rude. Dor. Go, vou provoking monfter! I detcft you and your whole fex ; I difclaim you all forever. Exit. Rofe. O faith, that's only tit for tat, honey ! for they have all difclaim'd you a long while ago. L. Hurt. You'll excufe me, fir Richard, that I chofe to put on any difguife to allure myfelf that I was not difagreeable r<> vour beautiful daughter, before I made an offer of my hand and heart ; and be a laired that Sir R. C =8 j Sir R. Hold ! hold ! I fee the houfe fills with company I fent to invite, on the arrival of this fham lord, to enliven us a little egad, they come in good time had they appear'd fooner I fhou'd not have known which to have introduc'd them to, my lord or his valet when they retire I fhall be glad to have fome reafons for your conduct at prefent it feems to me to be a little in Doll's way, damn'd romantic but you know I hate to be rude. Come, my girl, I here prefent you, I hope, with a good hufband, and be alfured my bleffing fhall not be wanting. Rofe. You may fay that : a good hufband is a mighty pretty prefent, and a bleffing into the bargain, honey. L. Hart. Tell me, my Emily, is your heart like mine, all harmony, love, and joy ? FINALE. Emily. What words can't exprefs, You may read in my eyes, For love to excefs Will admit no difguifc. L. Hart, I told my fond tale, And you pity'd my fighs ; May love thus prevail Overev'ry difguife. Sir R. I hate to be rude, But you're not over wife, On friends to intrude, With further difguife. Rofe. Thofe friends to our caufe, I molt humble advife, To crown with applaufe Our Double Disguise. C II R U S. Tbofe friends to our caufe, We moft humbly advife, To crown with applaufe Our Double Disguise, F I N I S. ^2 8 8 "^ RC IVED This book is DUE on the last date stamped below APRS A.M. 11985 P.M. 12I1I21314ISI6 i fcC'D ID -uk OCT 9 B 55 3m-2,'45(3232) UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES LIBRARY - mm&m