University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

The outside of the Playhouse.
Enter Smith, Johnson and Chanter.
Smith.

Is he there, think ye?

Chant.

I tell ye he is. As we were
drinking our Coffee, I saw him go by,
and turn down Vinegar-Yard, to get by
the Narrow Passage; I have sent one
to him, you shall see him bolt immediately.

John.

Prithee Jack Smith excuse me, I shall ne'er have Patience,
I shall rail again.

Smith.

Nay, nay, a pox on thee, hast not thou promis'd
to make me amends by Patience this Morning? for as Will
Chanter has made it out, by thy hurrying me away, we lost
the best part of our Diversion yesterday.

John.

A Plague on him, he has given me the Spleen so,
with the confounded Dialogue between the Eclipses, the
Sun, the Moon, and his Terra firma, with the terrible noise
of the Hobbyhorse Battel, that I shall only increase it; for I
expect no other Diversion, but such Fooleries, therefore
prithee excuse me.

Smith.

Faith, Sir, I shall not, you have solemnly ingaged
to keep me Company this Morning; and I as solemnly
expect it: Besides, Chanter tells me, that the last part of the
Rehearsal is more divertive than all the rest.

Chant.

Oh, 'tis most certain the musical part of it is
most entertaining; 'tis a kind of Comical Opera; and the diversity
of Humours, as well as other solemn Parts you'll
find, will be very pleasant.

Smith.

D'ye hear, Supercillium, d'ye hear? egad we shall be
so merry—I warrant thou'lt laugh till thy Stomach akes.

John.

I fear I shall rather be apt to ease my Stomach another
way.

Chant.

No, no, there's something in't will please, I warrant
ye, if you can have Patience; I have got one of the
Songs in't ready set; I think I have it about me,—you shall
hear it, [Searches for it.
od'slife I'm prevented—here he comes.

Enter Bayes.
Bayes.

Any body here would speak with me?

Chant.

Your Servant, Mr. Bayes; yes, Sir, 'twas I that sent
in t'ye.

Bayes.

For what, Pray Sir?

Chant.

Why, Sir, Mr. Smith, here and his Country Friend,
desir'd me to introduce 'em once more, to beg your Pardon.

Smith.

Which we do with all our Hearts, faith, Mr. Bayes;
look sneakingly and be hang'd. [Aside to Johnson.
D'sdeath that damn'd
squeamish Phiz will spoil all again.

Bayes.

Oh—your humble—Gentlemen, your Servant
Mr. a—Pardon; what they are come to spoil another
Rehearsal, are they? Yesterday's last Act, and the Musick
were quite lost; I endeavour'd by running, to call ye back

to retrieve your Senses that were gone Post before ye; ha!
ha! ha—but 'twas in vain, ha! ha! ha! ha!

Chant.

Ah—Sir! they are now extreamly sensible of it.

Bayes.

Look'e, Sir, I shall require at least a Week's time
to believe that; in the mean time, to my Knowledge, they
have lost the Town considerable Diversion, for this Day;
for the Play was to have been acted, and the Places all
taken—Pray, Sir, what amends can your Country Worship
[To Johnson.
make 'em for that?

Smith.

Ah—No, no, Sir, 'tis impossible; A plague of
all Business; why you must know, Sir, that he's involv'd
in an impertinent Suit of Law, and was yesterday (which he
had forgot) to have a Tryal at Bar, for the Recovery of
4000 l. Was not it, Johnson, tell Mr. Bayes? Pox on ye,
speak something.

[Aside.
John.

What a Devil should I speak?—Tell your Lies
your self, since y'are so good at it—You have begun
rarely.

[Aside.
Smith.

Chanter, help out—

Chant.

His feeing the Law Tongue-pads has so doz'd
him, that on my Conscience he has forgot his own Cause,
which might have been carry'd, no doubt, as well without
him—but he would now fain recover the Reputation of
being counted a Wit, by a fresh Judgment of your Piece,
here, Sir.

Smith.

He has been begging us all this Morning to bring
him, tho' he's asham'd to speak himself; has not he, Chanter?

Chant.

Yes, Sir, he has been teizing us horribly—to be
admitted.

John.

So, these Rakes have given admirable Proofs, that
lying will choak no body—that I'll say for 'em.

[Aside.
Bayes.

Counted a Wit, did you say, Mr. a ha, ha, ha; No,
no, let him despond, let him despair of that Ifaith; for he that to
follow the Trifle of four thousand Pounds, could leave
such an invaluable Enjoyment as this was, take it from
me, on the Word of a Poet, will never arrive at that Title:
But odso, I stand prating here, and the Players stay for me
to begin: Your Servant, Gentlemen, I shall want no Judgments,
no Criticks this Morning.

Smith.

Nay, prithee Bayes, I know thou art good natur'd.

Chant.

Mr. Smith admires the Account I gave him of the
Musick that is to be: And then the Comical Songs come
presently, 'tis a Musical Lecture to our Countrymen, we'll

have one of 'em that thou gav'st me, I'm sure that will put
thee in Humour.

[Song here.
Bayes.

Well, as the worthy and famous Sir Bernard Gascoin
said, who on his Death-bed desir'd one to sing; If a
Man were dying he would be pleas'd with this—Well,
let's go then. Come, Critical Sir, for your Friend's Sake,
once more I'll venture a Lash from your Country Satyr—
tholl, loll, loll, loll, loll.

[Sings.
[Exeunt Smith and Johnson, Bayes and Chanter stay behind a little.
Chant.

So, so, I told ye I would bring 'em.

Bayes.

'Tis well: And now prithee, Friend, humour the
Matter as we have agreed on, and as I for my Part will
comically give occasion; which ended, the Jest shall be on
our side, I warrant thee.

Chant.

Never doubt me: I'm instructed.

[Exeunt.