University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

An apartment in Francisco's house.
Enter Dorothea and Mopperella.
Mopperella.
Cease, my dear mistress, cease these fruitless tears,
Nor let the canker Grief destroy thy beauty.
My master never later stays than ten,
But he sends word.

Dor.
Oh, you mistake me quite!
Far other sorrows load my throbbing breast.

Mop.
What other sorrows can disturb you now?
I'm sure no woman in the parish goes
Or better fed, or better drest than thou,
Or takes more pleasure in a handsome way.

Dor.
Happiest of tailor's ladies sure am I;
Ungrateful were it to deny the truth.
'Tis true, Francisco drives but with one horse,
Nor envy I those ladies drive with two.—
But, Mopperella, as you talk of eating,
Say, is the sparrow-grass got ready yet?

Mop.
The water's boiling, and the toast is made;
But Betty says she will not put the grass
Into the saucepan, till my master comes.

Dor.
Betty is careful.

Mop.
Then, dear madam, say,
Since you confess that you enjoy all pleasure,
A country-house, and town, a one-horse chaise,
White-Conduit-House, and every joy beside,
Why do you grieve thus?

Dor.
True, my Mopperella,
I have a country-house in Lambeth-Marsh,
Genteelly furnish'd; nor need fear, when drest,
The envious glance of Madam Sarcenet's eye:
Yet, for all this, I am unhappy still.
I know not why—but, ah! my boding heart
Presages ill from this night's fatal council.

Mop.
What, do you grieve because my master's out?
Oh, grieve no more; he will be back to supper.
Madam, was I in your place, I protest,
I should be merry as a grig all day.

Dor.
Thou hast no husband, Moppy! if thou hadst,
Thou wouldst not prattle at this idle rate:
How can a single woman ever feel
Those little fears, that nice uneasiness,
Which so distinguish every prudent wife?

Mop.
Madam, tho' single, yet I can pronounce,
If I was married, I should love my husband;
But tho' I lov'd him, yet I would not fret
When he was out—unless he stay'd all night.

Dor.
Stay out all night? hold your irreverent tongue!
[Knocking.
Your master comes! I know his knock—begone!
Bid Betty hasten supper: Well I know,
When he returns, he's hungry and fatigued.

Enter Francisco with his head broke, led by a Waiter.
Fran.
Here, Robin, here's a tester!

Dor.
What do I see!
Oh, speak, Francisco! ease me of my fears!

Fran.
Be not alarm'd, my love; but lend thy arm,
To prop my feeble steps.

Dor.
Run for a surgeon!

Fran.
Hast thou no sticking-plaister here, my love?

Dor.
I have, my love; and Hung'ry water too.
How art thou now?

Fran.
Better; much better, love;
Only a little faint, with loss of blood.

Dor.
No wonder, love: Did'st thou not faint before?

Fran.
A Tailor's soul bears all with equal firmness!

Dor.
But say, my love, how hap'd this dire mischance?

Fran.
Why, in the middle of our long debate,
The journeymen, assembled all in arms,
With stones broke every window: Then, whilst I
Endeavour'd to oppose (the rest being old)
Myself alone, amidst an host of foes,
Oppress'd by numbers, senseless fell to earth,
'Till Robin pick'd me up, and led me home.

Dor.
Where was thy Dolly then, to bind thy head?—
But now my dream is out, my fears are gone!
Why wouldst thou go, against thy Dolly's warning?

Fran.
Who can control his fate? All must submit;
Monarchs, and Tailors, must submit to Fate.

Dor.
That's true. Then let me put thee now to bed,
And rest, perhaps, will heal thy smarting wounds.

Fran.
I will; and in the morning soon will get
A judge's warrant for that rascal Isaac.

Dor.
Isaac? who's he?

Fran.
Why, our late foreman; he
Was at their head.

Dor.
Then trounce him well, my love!
But come, get thee to bed; and then—

Fran.
What then?

Dor.
I'll make my love some whey.

Fran.
And so you may.
[Fran. is led out.
Dorothea alone.
For Isaac get a warrant? I'm undone!
What can I do?—Ha! when he's fast asleep,
I'll send for Isaac, give him instant notice,
That he may shun the danger.

[Exit.