Whim. [Aside.] Why-why-why-you are a bold man, that's all.-[Aloud.] Come, as it is a bargain, take hands on it-take hands-nay, salute hercome, kiss her, my boy. Mrs. Pat. [Aside.] My boy!-the old gentleman seems mighty fond of his son. Whim. But, really, when I consider how disagreeable a task it is to interfere between man and wife-for such I consider you to be Mrs. Pat. 'Tis very true, Sir-in all the quar rels that I had with my poor dear soul that's dead and gone (and many they were) we never permitted any body to interfere, but fought them out by ourselves. Whim. However, on this occasion, my friendship for you overcomes every other consideration. In a word, your intended husband has made Mon. [Aside.] Egad, I wish this ceremony were well over, I shall never be able to carry on the farce. [Salutes her. Whim. [Joining their hands.] May you live long together, and may no domestic quarrels obtrude on your happiness!-may you, Mrs. Pat-love to my daughter. typan be surrounded by a numerous offspring. Mrs. Pat. [Aside.] A numerous offspring! Mon. Pray, my dear Sir, drop the subject-you see it distresses her; and you know one must consult a woman's feelings on some occasions. Whim. Certainly! certainly! Mon. I am sure I should be sorry to hurt Mrs. Pattypan's delicacy. Whim. So should I-when a woman has but just enough left for her immediate use, it would be cruel indeed to damage that—I'll change the subject, Monford, depend upon it. [He converses with MRS. PATTYPAN in dumb show. Enter FRANK. Frank. [Aside to MON.] Sir, it is an impossibility for you to procure an interview with Miss Charlotte. Mon. Impossible, Frank! Mrs. Pat. What do I hear! I shall certainly faint. Whim. [Attempting to support her.] For Heaven's sake, don't faint yet, for I can't support you, upon my soul. Mrs. Pat. An ungrateful fellow!-who owes all he has in the world to me! Whim. Then, of course, all he has in the world ought to be at your disposal: but he did not own to me that he was even acquainted with you. Mrs. Pat. I have been a mother to him. Whim. Perhaps he thought you fitter to be his mother than his wife. Mrs. Pat. Oh, Sir, it is not to be repeated what I have done for that young inan. Whim. If it is not to be repeated, I'm sure I don't wish to hear it, Mrs. Pattypan.-But, between you and me--I suspect the girl is fond of him. Mrs. Pat. Fond of him! Whim. Indeed, I don't wonder at it-he is a Frank. Absolutely so-she is so closely watch-handsome dog. Mon. But how can he assist me ? Frank. He is a waiting to speak to you below stairs-slip away from the old gentleman directly. Whim. Now, what the devil can they be whispering about?—I always suspect a man to be a rogue when I see him whisper. [WHIMSEY interrupts, and looks anxiously at them.] Eh! why you have not changed your mind as to matrimony, have you? [Exit FRANK. Mon. Not in the least, I promise you, Sir-I am now going on some business which, I flatter myself, will hasten the match, and a few hours will. I hope, cure all your suspicions. [Exit. Whim. Egad, though I'll ask the old woman some questions about him; there can be no harm in that.-Pray, Mrs. Pattypan, if I don't hurt your delicacy by the question, how long may you have been acquainted with this young man whom you are going to marry? Mrs. Pat. [Aside.] Young man whom I am going to marry! how the deuce could he hear of my intending to marry Tim Tartlett? Whim. You'll excuse my curiosity-but pray is not he rather wild? Mrs. Pat. [Aside.] Yes, yes-he means Tim -[To him. Why, Sir, I believe he is rather flighty-he has his little gallantries. Mrs. Pat. He is, to be sure, a likely young fellow-not that I consider his person-the mind is my choice-what are fine eyes-flowing locks -brilliant complexion ?— Whim. [Interrupting her.] Mighty pretty things to look at, Mrs. Pattypan-Aside.] Though you never found them in your glass. Mrs. Pat. But what are they, compared to the beauties of the mind? Whim. Faith, I don't know-Comparisons are odious, and therefore I sha'n't attempt them. Mrs Pat. Beauty is but skin deepWhim. [Aside.] Then i'faith your skin conceals it more effectually than any skin I ever saw in my life. Mrs. Pat. But pray, Sir, how did you first discover this affair ?-tell me all the particulars Whim. I would, if I had thought of it a little sooner-but, for aught I know, at this moment your scape-grace may be explaining to my daughter some particulars of which I should wish her at present to remain ignorant-so it behoves me to look about me. [Exit. Mrs. Pat. [Alone.] Why here they come! yes, to be sure-Madam ogles and simpers; how ugly she looks when she smiles! [Retreats to the back of the stage. Enter CHARLOTTE and TIM. Char. And what time is the chaise to be ready? Tim. At twelve o'clock, Miss-that was the time 'Squire Monford fixed. Ah! how he'll be in the fidgets -I know what it is to be a true lovier Whim. Look ye, Mrs. Pattypan--as to his lit-myself, as our Nancy can vitness. Mrs. Pat. Dear Sir, you awaken my curiosity. 61 Char. Oh! Mr. Timothy, I own to you my courage fails me, now I come to the point. Mrs. Pat. [Aside.] I think your ladyship seems to have a pretty good share of courage, to come to the point so soon. Tim. As to the matter of that, Miss, as I told you before, I am as much in love as you areMrs. Pat. [Aside.] A mutual declaration of love! Tim. Never mind-by this time to-morrow you'll be out of your father's reach. Mrs. Pat. [Aside.] Gracious me he is going to elope with her! Tim. How the old gentleman will storm! Char. You know, as people grow in years, their sentiments of love affairs naturally change. Tim. E'cod, though-that is not the case with old mistress. Mrs. Pat. [Aside.] Old mistress, indeed! Tim. By all accounts she is just as loving now as she was thirty years ago. Mrs. Pat. [Aside.] His ears shall pay for this. Tim. If the old girl was to hear me, nowwhat would she say to it! Ha, ha, ha! Well, Miss, I'll take my leave of you till twelve o'clock. I'm just a going to make merry with a few friends for an hour or two-I'll take care that you shall have an excellent chaise, and as good a pair of horses as ever passed Hyde Park Corner. Char. Many thanks to you, kind Mr. Timothy. Tim. Courage, Miss-true love endures to the end, as the song says. And so a fig for your father and old mother Pattypan. [Exeunt CHAR. and TIM. Mrs. Pat. [Coming forward.] Old mother Pattypan! Old-I shall run mad! What a plot! "Tis lucky, however, I have discovered it-I'll take care there shall be no elopement.-Old, indeed!-and too loving!--I don't know what the deuce the fellows would have: when we are young, we are not half loving enough, forsooth! and when a few years have taught us how to remedy the defect, they treat our improvement with contempt. [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I-A Room in MRS. PATTYPAN'S House, with two windows in the back scene. Enter YOUNG WHIMSEY and NANCY. Y. Whim. Ah! my dear little Nancy-how lucky I am, to meet with you alone. Nancy. I wish then, Sir, you would leave me alone as you found me; upon my word, Mr. Whimsey, I'll tell my mistress how rude you behave. Y. Whim. Pray don't, my dear-she will want to try my rudeness herself.-By the bye, where Is the old woman? Nancy. At a neighbour's, over the way-you know she is as jealous as Old Scratch of poor Mr. Timothy, and so she means to watch his coming home Y. Whim. Oh! oh! then she is out, [Aside.]| so much the better.-[To her.] Nancy, I want to give you a little good advice-step into my room with me, and Nancy. Into your room! you have no room in this house, Mr. Whimsey; we have let the lodgings. Y. Whim. Let the lodgings! with all my furniture in them! Nancy. Pay what you owe, and you may have vour furniture. Nancy. And give her a little good advice too eh ? Y. Whim. To be sure-nobody better qualified than myself to give good advice-I have received a great deal more than I make use of; and as I scorn to be a miser, am ready to give it away to any one who will take it. Nancy. Bless me, here comes Mr. Furnish, the upholsterer, who has been so often after you with his bill, and our neighbour, Mr. Snap, the bailiff, with him, I vow. Y. Whim. Furnish! that is the man to whem you have denied me so often-What shall I do! he never saw me, I believe? Nancy. Never. Y. Whim. Then I fear nothing. However, a little disguise of my dress may not be amiss-here is an old laced hat, and a morning-gown, which I guess, from its antique appearance, belongs to your old lodger. Nancy. Yes; his servant has just been unpacking his portmanteau. Y. Whim. Then on they go-in cases of necessity one cannot stand upon punctilio. [Putting on the hat and morning goun Enter FURNISH. Nancy. Your servant, Mr. Furnish; I suppose you want Mr. Whimsey. Fur. Yes, my dear, I own a part of my business is with him. Nancy. I'll go and see if he's at home. [Erit. Fur. You may save yourself that trouble, my dear; I am pretty sure he is within. Y. Whim. I think, Sir, Mr. Whimsey is indebted to you for the furniture of a house, taken by a very fine girl, who referred you to him for payment-I have read many of your letters to him. Fur. Yes, Sir-a number of letters passed between us. I suppose I have received à quire of paper from him at different times; and, egad, that is all I ever received from him.-You are his friend, I presume, Sir? Y. Whim. I am partial to him, I own; though I confess he has been duped by women. Fur. That I can pardon, Sir. Gallantry has always been a part of my business. Y. Whim. Rather a small part of your business at present, I should think, Mr. Furnish. Fur. But you were speaking of Mr. Whimsey, Sir;--I fear the poor gentleman is much distressed.-Ah, Sir, there is no putting an old head on young shoulders. Y. Whim. And, really, if that could be done, I don't think it would be any great addition to a man's appearance. Fur. I dare say, you would take pleasure in affording him relief. Y. Whim. That I would, I assure you. Fur. Mine is not a large bill, [Giring him the bill and, I believe, I could afford to make a small abatement in it-a trifling sum will save an unhappy youth from disgrace-Consider the exquisite luxury of a feeling mind in relieving distress -consider, that generosity is part of the business of man. Consider compassion-[Y. WHIM.him pay for all this when he comes home.— shakes his head.] You wont pay the bill-then come in, Mr. Snap, and do your duty-follow me, and arrest him directly. Enter SNAP. Y. Whim. Hey-day! what's become of the exquisite luxury of a feeling mind in relieving distress? Fur. It may do very well for people of fortune; but a tradesman should never indulge in luxury. Y. Whim Consider, generosity is part of the business of a man. Fur. And a d―d losing trade it is-therefore it sha'n't be a part of my business. Y. Whim. Ha, ha, ha! egad, Furnish, you are very right not to engage in a business where have no stock in trade to begin with. Enter NANCY. you Nancy. [Aside to Y. WHIM] Lud, Mr. Whimsey, here's the old gentleman, our lodger, coming this way in a confounded huf about something. Y. Whim. [Aside to NANCY.] I'm very glad of it: I'll have a little sport with the old boy-and engage him with Furnish, whilst I get a peep at the young lass.-[To FURN.] My dear Furnish, I would advise you to arrest him by all means. Nanev. [Aside.] What can he mean now? Y. Whim. Let your friend, Mr. Snap, retire for a minute, and I'll explain myself. [Exit SNAP] Between you and me he is now here in disguise. Fur. Here! where? [Turns and sees NANCY ] Ah! my little blossom of beauty, are you there ?-[Aside.] To spend two hundred pounds upon a painted doll in three months!-[To her.] Why, you look mighty pretty to-night, child! but what the devil are you tittering about? Nancy. Dear Sir, I don't know-I'm in a merry humour, that's all. Whim. Ah! you dear little-egad, I'm in a merry humour too. No,-I lie, I am not merry [Aside.] That scoundrel Jack-I'll disinherit him. [To her.] Well, my little dear, and how d'ye do? the slut fires me-but then again that dog Jack fires me—so that I'm in a manner between two fires. Nancy. You seem in a fluster, Sir. Whim. Yes, my love, I am in a fluster-[Aside.] That spendthrift! What eyes she has! He must have his wench, forsooth!-the dog has no excuse for his fault! There is no resisting that girl, i'faith. Y. Whim. [Aside.] Well said, Philosophy at threescore. [Just as OLD WHIMSEY is going to take NANCY's hand, FURNISH comes forward. Fur. [Aside.] Ay, ay! his young blood begins to boil-Mr. Whimsey, I kiss your hand. Nancy. A lucky release. [Exeunt NANCY, and Y. WHIM. Whim. Sir, your humble servant-you really have the advantage of me, in knowing me. Fur. Yes, Sir, I really deem it an advantage, and hope to avail myself of it-my name, Sir, is Furnish. [Aside.] Who the deuce would think he is but two-and-twenty years old! I hope you have had your health lately, Sir? Y. Whim. You will see the old fellow present-better for these forty years past. ly-Nancy tells me he is coming this way Whim. Very well, I thank ye; I have not been Nancy. Ha, ha, ha! I wish I dared laugh out. Fur. Old fellow! Why I thought he was not above two-and-twenty. Y. Whim. Very true; but in his present disguise he appears thrice that age. Fur. His present disguise! Y. Whim. To deceive his creditors is, as you call it, a part of his business. He wears as many different sorts of wigs in a month as a barber's block; and all Monmouth-street can scarcely supply him with a sufficient change of wardrobe. Fur. Egad, he must be a comical dog!shall be ready to laugh in his face. Nancy. Here he comes, I vow. Fur. [Aside] Forty years past! And then his coat-a devilish smart coat, to come from Monmouth-street. Whim. Why, you seem to be mighty well acquainted with me, Mr. Furnish. Fur. Ha, ha, ha! I know you, Sir, by name, to be sure; and I believe I can form a nearer guess at your age than any one would do merely from your appearance. do you suppose I am, then?-Damme, d'ye take Whim. [Angrily.] Eh! well, Sir, and how old -Ime for threescore, you blockhead? Y. Whim. Ay, here he is-[Aside.] Eh!what the devil-my father, by all that's whimsical! Fur. What's the matter, Sir? You are not going? Y. Whim. No, no, Sir;-only, if Mr. Whimsey should discover that I have told you this-a disagreeable altercation might ensue. [Goes to the corner of the scene. Enter OLD WHIMSEY, with open letters in his hand. Whim. What an extravagant dog is this son of mine! Fur. [Aside to Y. WHIM.] His son!-so he pretends to have a son:- that's a devilish good thought, i'faith. Whim. Egad, it is lucky I broke open his letters, and discovered his tricks. But I'll make Fur. Not I, upon my soul, Sir. Whim. [Less angry.] Then I suppose you think me near fifty. Fur. Nothing like it, I assure you. Whim. Perhaps then, my good friend, you imagine me to be about forty. Fur. Indeed, I do not, Mr. Whimsey. Whim. [Shaking hands with him.] Nay, nay, my dear fellow, 'tis impossible you can suppose me to be much under fifty, ha, ha ha! Fur. Egad, but I do though, ha, ha, ha![Aside.] How well he counterfeits the laugh of an old man! [Both laugh some time. Whim. Upon my soul, Furnish, you are a mighty pleasant fellow. Fur. I believe I am-I make it a part of my business to be pleasant-but there is another part of my business which I must not forget-I have a small bit of paper here-a little slip, which I must trouble you to look over. [Giving nim a out Whim. Certainly- -I am always ready to look over the little slips of my friends, Mr. Furnish-let me put on my spectacles. Fur. [Aside.] Spectacles, too! he carries on the joke rarely. Whim. [Reading.]" John Whimsey, Esquire, debtor, for furnishing Miss Fanny Flighty's house in Newman-street!" Why, what the devil's all this? I know nothing of Miss Flighty's house, in Newman-street. Fur. I believe you have passed many a night there. Whim. I pass the night at Miss Fanny Flighty's! Fur. Don't think to deceive me, young gentleman-don't I know that you have not paid for the three last gigs you had?-that you have as many tricks as a juggler to chouse your creditors? -that you keep women in every corner of the town, and change them as often as your horses. Whim. I can't tell what you may know--but curse me if I know a word of the matter. Fur. This I know, that I will have my money. Whim. So you may, but dn me if you shall have any of mine. Fur. Why, you brazen young dog!you'll break your poor parent's heart. Whim. I'll break your head first, however. Enter SNAP. Fur. Mr. Snap, there's your prisoner. Snap. I ax your pardon, Master Furnish-he shall be no prisoner of mine-why I find you have mistaken the father for the son-'tis lucky the business stopped here-false imprisonment is a dangerous mistake in this land of liberty. [Erit. Fur. False imprisonment! Bless me why I met a fellow here, who told me a cock-and-a-bull story about you-and yet as gentleman-like a man, with a red morning gown and a gold-laced hat. Whim. [Aside.] Eh! faith there is some trick in all this-my hat and gown have not been borrowed for nothing-[To him.] but what a cursed fool must you be to trust to appearances! Fur. If I had trusted to your appearance, I should not have mistaken a gouty old rake of threescore for a young rake of two-and-twenty. Whim. Why, you abusive dirty plebeianyou rascally vamper of crazy moveables-out of the house directly! Fur. With all my heart-I'm sure I've no reason to like my company-only don't threaten me if you dare to lay one of your rheumatic old bones upon my person-I'll knock you down, I will, egad-remember I'm an auctioneer-and to knock down a lot of old lumber is often a part of my business. Enter CHARLOTTE. Whim Mean! why, to be witty, to be sure-I suppose there is some clever creature in the house, who, having no room for wit in his skull, aas learnt to jest with his fingers-I am always treated thus whenever I visit this cursed town; thank Heaven, however, I shall be off in an hour. Let all the things be packed up again—I'll just stay to recover my hat and gown-leave a letter to tell Jack he is disinherited, and then trundle into the country, where the people are not sufficiently well bred to laugh at the follies of their betters. [Erit. Char. To-night, did my father say, we were to set off? Perhaps he may order the chaise even before the hour I've appointed to elope with Monford-surely this is about the time Monford was to meet me here—but this unlucky accident! Enter NANCY, in tears. Nancy. Ah! Madam, I think there is nothing but unlucky accidents in this house-I know you're in love, Ma'am, as well as me—Tim told me all-we are such true lovers, that we never hide any thing from each other. Char. Am I then betrayed? Nancy. I hope not, Ma'am-I'm sure your sweetheart must be a vile fellow to betray such a pretty lady; and yet there is no answering for youth, when they get into company. Char. What d'ye mean, child? Nancy. Young men will be young men-but I did'nt think Tim would have served me so, when he knew the consequences. Char. [Aside.] Serve her so, when he knew the consequences? Nancy. Oh, Ma'am, if you did but know my situation. I tremble to think what a noise old mistress will make-I am sure the whole story will come out. Tim has got-got-got- [Sobbing. Char. What?-poor girl, I pity her distress. [Aside. Nancy. But, perhaps, Ma'am, your gentleman has sometimes served you just the same--I beg pardon Char. My dear, you really-confuse me-sowhat has he got? Nancy. He has got-tipsey, Ma'am—and when he is tipsey he does not care what he does-I know old mistress will find out that he and I are fallen in love together-and here he comes, I vow. Char. How unlucky! But he wont stay in this room, will he? Nancy. Indeed, Ma'am, I can't answer for him. Char. To say the truth, my dear girl-1 engaged to meet my lover, as you call him, in this very room, presently-pray, contrive that I may not be disappointed. Nancy. I will, indeed, Ma'am, if I possibly can [Exit.but Tim sometimes is so boisterous, I'm obliged to let him do as he pleases-[Exit CHARLOTTE] Bless me, when this love gets into one's head!—í Whim. Oh! I am glad you are come-you shall be scolded for not putting this room to rights. must set off for home to-night. Char. To-night, Sir! Whim. Av, Ma'am-to-night-I have been plundered, abused, laughed at, and nearly arrested, ali in the course of half an hour-I have lost my morning-gown and my best hat; but I'll find my property, if it is in the house. Char. Dear Sir, what can they mean by a trick of that sort? [Lets down one of the window curtains; as she begins to let down the other— Enter TIM TARTLETT, tipsey. Tim. Oh, Nancy! my dear-sweet-pretty lit tle Nancy! tol de rol. [Singing and dancing Nancy. Oh, Tim, how can you be so merry in such a situation? Tim. Vy every body is merry; and all is ter your advice. Nancy. Come, then. Tim. I am going-I am going. Mon. Really, Sir, this is an extraordinary-a most unexpected visit. I expect a person here presently, from whom I must be concealed. Y. Whim. So do I. Mon. And I have chosen this place for my retreat. Y. Whim. There we agree, my dear Sir. Y. Whim. Piano, my dear Sir, piano!—If you must swear, let it be in a whisper-consider you will discover yourself. Mon. [Aside.] Egad, that's very true. Whim. [Without.] I'll warrant you I'll ferret the dog out at last. Y. Whim. There, Sir-you have no time to lose-we must pursue the old English policy Nancy. But you don't stir-Hark! I hear some forget our private disputes, when the common enebody on the stairs-make haste. Tim. I will-I tell you I am going. Nancy. Lord! if the old woman should catch me here I am so frightened-here somebody comes, I vow-What shall I do?-I must e'en leave him to himself. [Exit. [Falls asleep. my is at the door-and so, Sir, in we go. [They go behind the curtain. Enter OLD WHIMSEY. Whim. Where can this thief be hid! I am sure Tim. Don't be in a hurry, my love-you see II have searched the house from the cellar to the am going-going-going Enter MONFord. Mon. I can't conceive where Charlotte can be -she ought to have been punctual at this time, when the crisis of our fate approaches-when[TIM snores.] Hey-day! what have we here? my friend Timothy stopped short on his journey to bed, and fallen asleep by the way-Hush! I hear a noise on the stairs-let me listen. [Retires. Enter YOUNG WHIMSEY, on the other side. Y. Whim. Egad, I have had a hard chase of it -the old gentleman could not have been warmer in the pursuit, had he been hunting a petticoatWhat the deuce is this? Old mother Pattypan's husband elect -My father's voice again!-I should like to see the end of the joke, but where can I hide myself? I'faith this window curtain would keep me out of sight, and at the same time give me an opportunity of hearing what passes; and, lest Mr. Timothy should catch cold, I'll lend him my spoils to cover him, as I have no further use for them. [Lays the gown over TIM TARTLETT, and puts the hat on his head.] But the sound seems to retire, I'll follow it. MONFORD comes forward. [Exit. Mon There are voices on the stairs, sure enough -I must not be seen here-and yet, if I quit the spot, I shall miss the opportunity of seeing Charlotte- but hold, a bustle again!-if a convenient closet could be found now-not one in the room, by all that 's unlucky!-however, here is a curtain will do just as well [Seems to listen at the corner of the scenes, and YOUNG WHIMSEY enters on the opposite side. Y. Whim. [Aside.] And now, having set all my puppets in motion, I retire behind the curtain, like a cunning statesman, from the storm I have raised. [Y. WHIMSEY and MONFORD steal softly from opposite sides of the stage, towards the curtain; and do not perceive each other till they are both on the point of concealing themselves behind it. Y. Whim. [Aside] Zounds! who is this? garret, as narrowly as if I had been bred an exciseman [Seeing TIM.] Oh! here is the facetious gentleman-asleep too! ha, ha!Come, my lad, you may as well open your eyes -it don't signify your sitting there, and snoring like a damaged organ-pipe-Halloo! Tim. [Waking.] Nancy, my dear Nancy-1 am going. Whim. Indeed you are not going-What are you, sirrah? Tim. A little tipsey, your honour. Whim. How did you come by this hat and morning-gown? how they came by me? Tim. I came by them! You should rather ask Whim. What made you sit down here? Whim. Quite intoxicated-a thorough-bred rogue, I'll warrant him. How have you managed so long to escape hanging, sirrah? Tim. Your honour seems to have lived many accident; and why should not I have as good years longer than me in the world, without any luck as my neighbours? Whim. Ha, ha!-he has a budget of jokes too -all second-hand, I suppose-stick to that, my boy-you'll find it much safer to steal jokes than gold-laced hats. Tim. Well, your honour, I suppose you have no commands for me. I'll e'en finish my nap. Whim. By all means, my lad-and when you are sober, I would have you exchange your wit for a little honesty, if you can find any at market -good bye t'ye. [Exit TIM. Y. Whim. [Peeping from behind the curtain.] One of them is gone. Whim. [Aside.] Eh! what's that? Mon. [Peeping from the other side of the curtain.] Which of them is it? Whim. [Aside.] Another voice!-There is more mischief going forward in this house.-I'll listen.-[Lays himself back in the chair, puts on the hat, and covers himself with the gown. Y. Whim. The old gentleman is off-I don't hear his tongue. Whim. [Aside.] It is my plague-it is Jack, as I live. Y. Whim. Yes, yes, there lies Tim, taking a |