LOVE AND A BOTTLE. A Comedy. Vade, sed incultus, qualem decet exulis esse. OVID. Trist. i. 1. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE PEREGRINE, LORD MARQUIS OF CARMARTHEN, &c. MY LORD,-Being equally a stranger to your Lordship, and the whole nobility of this kingdom, something of a natural impulse and aspiring motion in my inclinations has prompted me, though I hazard a presumption, to declare my respect. And be the success how it will, I am vain of nothing in this piece but the choice of my patron; I shall be so far thought a judicious author, whose principal business is to design his works an offering to the greatest honour and merit. I cannot here, my Lord, stand accused of any sort of adulation but to myself, because compliments due to merit return upon the giver, and the only flattery is to myself, whilst I attempt your Lordship's praise. I dare make no essay on your Lordship's youthful bravery and courage, because such is always guarded with modesty, but shall venture to present you some lines on this subject, which the world will undoubtedly apply to your Lordship. Courage the highest gift, that scorns to bend To mean devices for a sordid end. Courage-an independent spark from Heaven's bright throne, By which the soul stands raised, triumphant, high, alone. Above all vice, it stoops not to be proud. By which those great in war, are great in love. The spring of all brave acts is seated here, As falsehoods draw their sordid birth from fear. The best and noblest part of mankind pay homage to royalty, what veneration then is due to those virtues and endowments which even engaged the respect of royalty itself, in the person of one of the greatest emperors in the world, who chose your Lordship not only as a companion, but a conductor! He wanted the fire of such a Briton to animate his cold Russians, and would therefore choose you his leader in war, as in travel. He knew the fury of the Turk could be only stopped by an English nobleman, as the power of France was by an English king. A sense of this greatness which might deter others, animates me to address your lordship; resolved that my first muse should take a high and daring flight, I aspired to your Lordship's protection for this trifle, which I must own myself now proud of, affording me this opportunity of humbly declaring myself, my Lord, your Lordship's most devoted servant, G. FARQUHAR. PROLOGUE. BY J. H. SPOKEN BY MR. POWELL, A Servant attending with a Bottle of Wine. As stubborn atheists, who disdain'd to pray, Implore your mercy in our suppliant prayers. Sure none sit here that will refuse their glass! Oh, there's a damning soldier-let me think- Come on then; foot to foot be boldly set, He gives his service: [Drinks] sure you now are ACT I. SCENE I.-Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. Enter ROEBUCK, repeating the following line. Roe. Thus far our arms have with success been crown'd. Heroically spoken, faith, of a fellow that has not one farthing in his pocket! If I have one penny to buy a halter withal in my present necessity, may I be hanged! though I'm reduced to a fair way of obtaining one methodically very soon, if robbery or theft will purchase the gallows. But hold-can't I rob honourably, by turning soldier? Enter Cripple begging. Crip. One farthing to the poor old soldier, for the Lord's sake! Roe. Ha!-a glimpse of damnation just as a man is entering into sin, is no great policy of the devil. But how long did you bear arms, friend? Crip. Five years, an't please you, sir. Roe. And how long has that honourable crutch borne you? Crip. Fifteen, sir. Roe. Very pretty! five year a soldier, and fifteen a beggar !-This is hell right! an age of damnation, for a momentary offence. Thy condition, fellow, is preferable to mine; the merciful bullet, more kind than thy ungrateful country, has given thee a debenture in thy broken leg, from which thou canst draw a more plentiful maintenance than I from all my limbs in perfection. Prithee, friend, why wouldst thou beg of me? dost think I'm rich? Crip. No, sir, and therefore I believe you charitable. Your warm fellows are so far above the sense of our misery, that they can't pity us; and I have always found it, by sad experience, as needless to beg of a rich man as a clergyman. Our greatest benefactors, the brave officers, are all disbanded, and must now turn beggars like myself; and so, times are very hard, sir. Roe. What, are the soldiers more charitable than the clergy? Crip. Ay, sir; a captain will say dam'me, and give me sixpence; and a parson shall whine out God bless me, and give me not a farthing: now I think the officer's blessing much the best. Roe. Are the beaux never compassionate? Crip. The great full wigs they wear stop their ears so close, that they can't hear us; and if they should, they never have any farthings about 'em. Roe. Then I am a beau, friend; therefore pray leave me. Begging from a generous soul that has not to bestow, is more tormenting than robbery to a miser in his abundance. Prithee, friend, be thou charitable for once; I beg only the favour which rich friends bestow, a little advice. I am as poor as thou art, and am designing to turn soldier. Crip. No, no, sir. See what an honourable post I am forced to stand to; my rags are scarecrows sufficient to frighten any one from the field; rather turn bird of prey at home. [Showing his crutch. Roe. Grammercy, old devil! I find hell has its pimps of the poorer sort as well as of the wealthy. I fancy, friend, thou hast got a cloven foot instead of a broken leg.-'Tis a hard case that a man must never expect to go nearer heaven than some steps of a ladder. But 'tis unavoidable: I have my wants to lead, and the devil to drive; and if I can't meet my friend Lovewell (which I think impossible, being so great a stranger in town), Fortune, thou hast done thy worst; I proclaim open war against thee. I'll stab thy next rich darling that I see; And killing him, be thus revenged on thee. [Retires to the back part of the stage, as into the walks, making some turns across the stage in disorder.— Exit Cripple. Enter LUCINDA and PINDRESS. Luc. Oh! these summer mornings are so delicately fine, Pindress, it does me good to be abroad! Pin. Ay, madam, these summer mornings are as pleasant to young folks as the winter nights to married people, or as your morning of beauty to Mr. Lovewell. Luc. I'm violently afraid the evening of my beauty will fall to his share very soon; for I'm inclinable to marry him. I shall soon lie under an eclipse, Pindress. Pin. Then it must be full moon with your ladyship. But why would you choose to marry in summer, madam? Luc. I know no cause, but that people are aptest to run mad in hot weather, unless you take a woman's reason. Pin. What's that, madam ? Luc. Why, I am weary of lying alone. Pin. Oh, dear madam, lying alone is very dangerous! 'tis apt to breed strange dreams. Luc. I had the oddest dream last night of my courtier that is to be, Squire Mockmode, He appeared crowded about with a dancing-master, pushing-master, music-master, and all the throng of beau-makers; and methought he mimicked foppery so awkwardly, that his imitation was downright burlesquing it. I burst out a-laughing so heartily, that I wakened myself! Pin. But dreams go by contraries, madam. Have not you seen him yet? Luc. No; but my uncle's letter gives account that he's newly come to town from the university, where his education could reach no farther than to guzzle fat ale, smoke tobacco, and chop logic. Faugh! it makes me sick! Pin. But he's very rich, madam; his concerns join to yours in the country. : Luc. Ay, but his concerns shall never join to mine in the city for since I have the disposal of my own fortune, Lovewell's the man for my money. I have so Pin. Ay, and for my money: for I've had above twenty pieces from him since his courtship began. He's the prettiest sober gentleman! strong an opinion of his modesty, that I'm afraid, madam, your first child will be a fool! Luc. Oh, God forbid! I hope a lawyer understands business better than to beget anything non compos.-The walks fill apace; the enemy approaches, we must set out our false colours. [Put on their masks. Pin. We masks are the purest privateers!— Madam, how would you like to cruise about a little? Luc. Well enough, had we no enemies but our fops and cits: but I dread these blustering menof-war, the officers, who, after a broadside of damme's and sinkme's, are for boarding all masks they meet as lawful prize. Pin. In truth, madam, and the most of 'em are lawful prize, for they generally have French ware under hatches. Luc. Oh, hideous! o' my conscience, girl, thou'rt quite spoiled! An actress upon the stage would blush at such expressions. Pin. Ay, madam, and your ladyship would seem to blush in the box, when the redness of your face proceeded from nothing but the constraint of holding your laughter. Did you chide me for not putting a stronger lace in your stays, when you had broke one as strong as a hempen cord with containing a violent tihee at a smutty jest in the last play? Luc. Go, go, thou'rt a naughty girl! thy im pertinent chat has diverted us from our business. I'm afraid Lovewell has missed us for want of the sign. But whom have we here? An odd figure! some gentleman in disguise, I believe. Pin. Had he a finer suit on, I should believe him in disguise; for I fancy his friends have only known him by that this twelvemonth. Luc. His mien and air show him a gentleman, and his clothes demonstrate him a wit. He may afford us some sport. I have a female inclination to talk to him. Pin. Hold, madam, he looks as like one of those dangerous men-of-war you just now mentioned as can be; you had best send out your pinnace before to discover the enemy. Luc. No, I'll hail him myself. -[Moves towards ROEBUCK.] What, sir, dreaming? [Slaps him on the shoulder with her fan. [Sullenly. Roe. Yes, madam. Roe. Yes faith, lady, very often when my sleep's haunted by such pretty goblins as you! You are a sort of dream I would fain be reading : I'm a very good interpreter indeed, madam. Luc. Are you then one of the wise men of the East? Roe. No, madam, but one of the fools of the West. Luc. Pray, what do you mean by that? Roe. An Irishman, madam, at your service. Luc. Oh, horrible! an Irishman! a mere wolfdog, I protest! Roe. Ben't surprised, child; the wolf-dog is as well-natured an animal as any of your country bulldogs, and a much more fawning creature, let me tell ye. [Lays hold of her. Luc. Pray, good Cæsar, keep off your paws; no scraping acquaintance, for Heaven's sake! Tell us some news of your country; I have heard the strangest stories-that the people wear horns and hoofs ! Roe. Yes, 'faith, a great many wear horns: but we had that, among other laudable fashions, from London. I think it came over with your mode of wearing high topknots; for ever since, the men and wives bear their heads exalted alike. They were both fashions that took wonderfully. Luc. Then you have ladies among you? Roe. Yes, yes, we have ladies, and whores, colleges and playhouses, churches and taverns, fine houses and bawdy-houses: in short, everything that you can boast of, but fops, poets, toads, and adders. Luc. But have you no beaux at all? Roe. Yes; they come over like the woodcocks, once a year. Luc. And have your ladies no springes to catch 'em in? Roe. No, madam; our own country affords us much better wildfowl. But they are generally stripped of their feathers by the playhouse and taverns; in both which they pretend to be critics; and our ignorant nation imagines a full wig as infallible a token of a wit as the laurel. Luc. Oh Lard! and here 'tis the certain sign of a blockhead. But why no poets in Ireland, sir? Roe. Faith, madam, I know not, unless St. Patrick sent them a-packing with other venomous |