University of Virginia Library

SCENE I. DIMPLE'S Lodgings.
JESSAMY meeting JONATHAN.

JESSAMY.

WELL, Mr. Jonathan, what success with the fair?

JONATHAN.

Why, such a tarnal cross tike you never saw! You would have counted she had lived upon crab-apples and vinegar for a fortnight. But what the rattle makes you look so tarnation glum?

JESSAMY.

I was thinking, Mr. Jonathan, what could be the reason of her carrying herself so coolly to you.

JONATHAN.

Coolly, do you call it? Why, I vow, she was fire-hot angry: may be it was because I buss'd her.

JESSAMY.

No, no, Mr. Jonathan; there must be some other cause; I never yet knew a lady angry at being kissed.

JONATHAN.

Well, if it is not the young woman's bashfulness, I vow I can't conceive why she shouldn't like me.

JESSAMY.

May be it is because you have not the Graces, Mr. Jonathan.

JONATHAN.

Grace! Why, does the young woman expect I must be converted before I court her?

JESSAMY.

I mean graces of person: for instance, my lord tells us that we must cut off our nails even at top, in small segments of circles—though you won't understand that; in the next place, you must regulate your laugh.

JONATHAN.

Maple-log seize it! don't I laugh natural?

JESSAMY.

That's the very fault, Mr. Jonathan. Besides, you absolutely misplace it. I was told by a friend of mine that you laughed outright at the play the other night, when you ought only to have tittered.

JONATHAN.

Gor! I—what does one go to see fun for if they can't laugh?

JESSAMY.

You may laugh; but you must laugh by rule.

JONATHAN.

Swamp it—laugh by rule! Well, I should like that tarnally.

JESSAMY.

Why, you know, Mr. Jonathan, that to dance, a lady to play with her fan, or a gentleman with his cane, and all other natural motions, are regulated by art. My master has composed an immensely pretty gamut, by which any lady or gentleman, with a few years' close application, may learn to laugh as gracefully as if they were born and bred to it.

JONATHAN.

Mercy on my soul! A gamut for laughing—just like fa, la, sol?

JEREMY.

Yes. It comprises every possible display of jocularity, from an affettuoso smile to a piano titter, or full chorus fortissimo ha, ha, ha! My master employs his leisure hours in marking out the plays, like a cathedral chanting-book, that the ignorant may know where to laugh; and that pit, box, and gallery may keep time together, and not have a snigger in one part of the house, a broad grin in the other, and a d—d grum look in the third. How delightful to see the audience all smile together, then look on their books, then twist their mouths into an agreeable simper, then altogether

shake the house with a general ha, ha, ha! loud as a full chorus of Handel's at an Abbey commemoration.

JONATHAN.

Ha, ha, ha! that's dang'd cute, I swear.

JESSAMY.

The gentlemen, you see, will laugh the tenor; the ladies will play the counter-tenor; the beaux will squeak the treble; and our jolly friends in the gallery a thorough base, ho, ho, ho!

JONATHAN.

Well, can't you let me see that gamut?

JESSAMY.

Oh! yes, Mr. Jonathan; here it is. [Takes out a book.]
Oh! no, this is only a titter with its variations. Ah, here it is. [Takes out another.]
Now, you must know, Mr. Jonathan, this is a piece written by Ben Johnson, which I have set to my master's gamut. The places where you must smile, look grave, or laugh outright, are marked below the line. Now look over me. "There was a certain man"—now you must smile.

JONATHAN.

Well, read it again; I warrant I'll mind my eye.

JESSAMY.

"There was a certain man, who had a sad scolding wife,"—now you must laugh.

JONATHAN.

Tarnation! That's no laughing matter though.

JESSAMY.

"And she lay sick a-dying";—now you must titter.

JONATHAN.

What, snigger when the good woman's a-dying! Gor, I—

JESSAMY.

Yes, the notes say you must—"and she asked her husband leave to make a will,"—now you must begin to look grave;—"and her husband said"—

JONATHAN.

Ay, what did her husband say? Something dang'd cute, I reckon.

JESSAMY.

"And her husband said, you have had your will all your life-time, and would you have it after you are dead, too?"

JONATHAN.

Ho, ho, ho! There the old man was even with her; he was up to the notch—ha, ha, ha!

JESSAMY.

But, Mr. Jonathan, you must not laugh so. Why you ought to have tittered piano, and you have laughed fortissimo. Look here; you see these marks, A, B, C, and so on; these are the references to

the other part of the book. Let us turn to it, and you will see the directions how to manage the muscles. This [turns over]
was note D you blundered at.—You must purse the mouth into a smile, then titter, discovering the lower part of the three front upper teeth.

JONATHAN.

How? read it again.

JESSAMY.

"There was a certain man"—very well!—"who had a sad scolding wife,"—why don't you laugh?

JONATHAN.

Now, that scolding wife sticks in my gizzard so pluckily that I can't laugh for the blood and nowns of me. Let me look grave here, and I'll laugh your belly full, where the old creature's a-dying.

JESSAMY.

"And she asked her husband"—[Bell rings.]
My master's bell! he's returned, I fear.—Here, Mr. Jonathan, take this gamut; and I make no doubt but with a few years' close application, you may be able to smile gracefully."

[Exeunt severally.