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Trudge. [Capering about] Wows, give] me a kiss! [Wowski goes to Trudge. Yar. And shall we-shall we be happy?
Inkle. Aye; ever, ever, Yarico.
Yar. I knew we should - and yet I feared --but shall I still watch over you? Oh! love,
you surely gave your Yarico such pain, only Yarico. to make her feel this happiness the greater.
Wows. [Going to Yarico] Oh Wowski so happy! and yet I think I not glad neither. Trudge. Eh, Wows! How!-why not? Wows. 'Cause I can't help cry.
Sir Chr. Then, if that's the case-curse me, if I think I'm very glad either. What the plague's the matter with my eyes?-Young Wowski. man, your hand-I am now proud and happy to shake it.
Med. Well, sir Christopher, what do you say to my hopeful nephew now?
Sir Chr. Say! why, confound the fellow, I say, that it is ungenerous enough to remember the bad action of a man who has virtue left in his heart to repent it.-As for you, my good fellow, [to Trudge] I must, with Trudge. master's permission, employ you myself. Trudge. O rare!-Bless honour! your Wows! you'll be lady, you jade, to a gover
Wows. Iss.-I lady Jactotum.
Ah! how can I forbear
To join the jocund dance?
The rosy hours advance.
Little did I think
Doom'd to know care and woe,
And nobly scorn to shrink.
Whilst Trudge's, to be dumb. No, no, day blithe and gay, Shall like massy, missy play, Dance and sing, hey ding, ding, Strike fiddle and beat drum. 'Sbobs! now I'm fix'd for love, My fortune's fair, though black's my wife, Who fears domestic strife
Who cares now a sous! Merry cheer my dingy dear
Shall find with her Factotum bere; Night and day, I'll frisk and play About the house with Wows. Love's convert here behold. Banish'd now my thirst of gold. Bless'd in these arms to fold My gentle Yarico.
Hence all care, all doubt, and fear, Love and joy each want shall cheer, Happy night, pure delight,
Shall make our bosoms glow. Let Patty say a word
A chambermaid may sure be heard— Sure men are grown absurd,
Thus taking black for white; To hug and kiss a dingy miss, Will hardly suit an age like this, Unless, here, some friends appear. Who like this wedding night.
THIS gentleman, descended from an ancient family iu Devonshire, was born at Exeter, and received his ederatua at the free-school of Barnstaple, in that county, under the care of Mr. William Rayner. He was bred a mercer a the Strand; but having a small fortune independent of business, and considering the attendance on a shop as a dogradation of those talents which he found himself possessed of, ¿he quitted that occupation, and applied himself to othe views, and to the indulgence of his inclination for the Muses, Mr. Gay was born in the year 1688. In 1712 we ind him secretary, or rather domestic steward, to the Dutchess of Monmonth; in which station he continued till the i ginning of the year 1714, at which time he accompanied the Earl of Clarendon to Hanover, whither that nobleman was dispatched by Queen Anne, In the latter end of the same year, in consequence of the Queen's death, he returned to England, where he lived in the highest estimation and intimacy of friendship with many persons of the Erst distinct both in rank and abilities. He was even particularly taken notice of by Queen Caroline, then Princess of Wales whom he had the honour of reading in manuscript his tragedy of The Captives; and in 1726 dedicated his Felin, by permission, to the Duke of Cumberland. From this countenance shown to him, and numberless promises made him of preferment, it was reasonable to suppose. that he would have been genteelly provided for in some office suitable to bis inclination and abilities. Instead of which, in 1727, he was offered the place of gentleman-usher to me of the youngest princesses; an office which, as he looked on it as rather an indignity to a man whose talcats might have been so much better employed, he thought proper to refuse; and some pretty warm remonstrances were made ra the occasion by his sincere friends and jealous patrons the Duke and Dutchess of Queensberry, which terminsted in these two noble presonages withdrawing from court in disgust. Mr. Gay's dependence on the promises of the great, and the disappointments he met with, he has figuratively described in his fable of The Hare with many Friends. However,
the very extraordinary success he met with from public encouragement made an ample amends, both with respect to satisfaction and omolument, for those private disappointments: for, in the season of 1727-28, appeared his Beggar's Opera, the success of which was not only unprecedented, but almost incredible, It had an uninterrupted run in London of sixty-three nights in the first season, and was renewed in the ensuing one with equal approbation, It spread anto all the great towns of England; was played in many places to the thirtieth and fortieth time, and at Bath and Bristol fifty; made its progress into Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, in which last place it was acted for twenty-four successive nights, and last of all it was performed at Minorea. Nor was the fame of it confined to the reading and representation alone, for the card-table and the drawing-room shared with the theatre and the closet in this respect; the ladies carried about the favourite songs of it engraven on their fan-mounts, and screens and other pieces of furniture were decorated with the same. Miss Fenton, who acted Polly, though till then perfectly obscure, became all at once the idol of the town; her pictures were engraven, and sold in great numbers; her life written; books of letters and verses to her published; and pamphlets made of even her very sayings and jests; nay, she herself was received to a station, in consequence of which she, before her death, attained the highest rank a female subject can acquire, being married to the Duke of Bolton. In short, the satire of this piece was so striking, so apparent, and so perfectly adapted to the taste of s11 degrees of people, that it even for that season overthrew the Italian opera, that Dagon of the nobiHity and gentry, which had so long seduced them to idolatry, and which Dennis, by the labours and outeries of a whole life, and many other writers, by the force of reason and reflection had in vain endeavoured to drive from the throne of public taste. Yet the Herculean exploit did this little piece at once bring to its completion, and for some time recalled the devotion of the town from an adoration of mere sound and show, to the admiration of, and relish for, true satire and sound understanding. The profits of this piece were so very great, both to the author and Mr. Rich the manager, that it gave rise to a qnibble, which became frequent in the mouths of many, viz. That it had made Rich gay, and Gay rich; and we have heard it asserted, that the author's own advantages from it were not less than two thousand pounds. In consequence of this success, Mr. Gay was induced to write a second part to it, which he entitled Polly. But, owing to the disgust subsisting between him and the court, together with the misrepresentations made of him, as having been the author of some disaffeeted libels and seditious pamphlets, a charge which, however, he warmly disavows in his preface to this opera, a prohibition of it was sent from the Lord Chamberlain, at the very time when every thing was in readiness for the rehearsal of it. This disappointment, however, was far from being a loss to the mathor; for, as it was afterwards confessed, even by his very best friends, to be in every respect infinitely inferior to the first part, it is more than probable, that it might have failed of that great success in the representation which Mr. Gay might promise himself from it; whereas the profits arising from the publication of it afterwards in quarto, in consequence of a very large subscription, which this appearance of persecution, added to the author's great personal interest procured for him, were at least adequate to what could have accrued to him from a moderate run, had it been represented. He afterwards new wrote The Wife of Bath, which was the last dramatic piece by him that made its appearance during his life; his opera of Achilles, the comedy of the Distrest Wife, and his farce of The Rehearsal‘at Goatham, being brought on the stage or published after his death. Besides these, Mr. Gay wrote many very valuable picces in verse; among which his Trivia; or, The Art of walking in the Streets of London; though one of his first poetical attempts, is far from being the least considerable; but, as among his dramatic works, his Beggar's Opera did at first, and perhaps ever will, stand as an unrivalled masterpiece, so, among his poetical works, his Fables hold the same rank of estimation: the latter having been almost as universally read as the former was represented, and both equally admired. It would therefore be superfluous here to add any thing further to these self-reared monuments of his fame as a poet. As a man, he appears to have been morally amiable. His disposition was sweet and alable, his temper generous, and his conversation agreeable aud entertaining. He had indeed one foible, too frequently incident to men of great literary abilities, and which subjected him at times to inconveniences, which otherwise he needed not to have experienced, viz, an excess of indolence, which prevented him from exerting the full force of his lalents. He was, however, not inattentive to the means of procuring an independence, in which he would probably have succeeded, had not his spirits been kept down by disappointments. He had, however, saved several thousand pounds at the time of his death, which happened at the house of the Duke and Dutchess of Queensberry in Burlington Gardens, in December 1-3. He was interred in Westminster Abbey, and a monument erected to his memory, at the expense of his afore mentioned noble benefactors, with an inscription expressive of their regards and his own deserts, and an epitaph in verse by Mr. Pope; but, as both of them are still in existence, and free of access to every one, it would be impertiment to repeat either of them in this place.
By John Gay, Acted at Lincoln's Inn fields. The great success of this piece has rendered its merits sufficiently known. It was written in ridicule of the musical Italian drama, was first offered to Cibber and his brethren at Drury Lane, and by them rejected. Of the origin and progress of this new species of composition, Mr. Spencer has given a relation in the words of Pope: "Dr. Swift had been observing once to Mr. Gay, what an odd pretty sort of thing a Newgate pastoral might make. Gay was inclined to try at such a thing for some time; but afterwards thought it would be better to write a comedy on the same plan. This was what gave rise to The Beggar's Opera. He began on it; and when first he mentioned it to Swift, the doctor did not much like the project. As he carried it on, he showed it to both of us, and we now and then gave a correction, or a word or two of advice; but it was wholly of his own writing. When it was done, neither of us thought it would succeed. We showed it to Congreve, who, after reading it over, said, it would either take greatly, or be damned confoundedly. We were all at the first night of it, in very great uncertainty of the event, till we were very much encouraged, by overhearing the Duke of Argyle, who sat in the next box to us, say, It will do; it must do; I see it in the eyes of them." This was a good while before the first act was over, and so gave us ease soon for that Duke (besides his own good taste) has a particular knack, as any one living, in discovering the taste of the public. He was quite right in this, as usual; the good-nature of the audience appeared stronger and stronger every act, and ended in a clamour of applause." Many persons, however, have decried this piece; written, and even preached in the pulpit, against it, from mistaking the design of it; which was, not to recommend the characters of highwaymen, pickpockets, and strumpets, as examples to be followed, but to show that the principles and behaviour of many persons in what is called high life were no better than those of highwaymen, thieves, sharpers, and strumpets. Nor can these characters be seductive to persons in low life, when they see that they must all expect to be hanged. 'Tis what we must all come to, says one of them; and it is a kind of miracle, if they continue six months in their evil courses, This fellow, says Peachum, if he were to live these six months, would never come to the gallows with any grace. The women of the town are far from being made desirable objects; since they are all shown to be pickpockets and shoplifters, as well as ladies of pleasure; and so treacherous, that even those who seem fondest of Macheath, at the very time they are caressing him, are beckoning behind his back to the thief-taker and constables to lay hold of him. Sir Robert Walpole was frequently the subject of Mr. Gay's satire. The minister however, was not deterred from attending the performance of the poet's Beggar's Opera, Being in the stage boxes at Its first representation, a most universal encore attended the following air of Lockit, and all eyes were directed on the minister at the instant of its being repeated:
When you censure the age,
Be cautious and sage,
Lest the courtiers offended should be:
If you mention vice or bribe
'Tis so pat to all the tribe,
Sir Robert, observing the pointed manner in which the audience applied the last line to him, parried the thrust by encoring it with his single voice; and thus not only blunted the poetical shaft, but gained a general huzza from the
Through all the employments of life,
soften the evidence.
holden to women, than all the professions be sides.
Tis woman that seduces all mankind;
Peach. But make haste to Newgate, boy, and let my friends know what I intend; for I love to make them easy, one way or another. A lawyer is an honest employment, so is Filch. When a gentleman is long kept in mine. Like me too, he acts in a double ca- suspense, penitence may break his spirit ever pacity, both against rogues, and for them; after. Besides, certainty gives a man a good for 'tis but fitting, that we should protect air upon his trial, and makes him risk another, and encourage cheats, since we live by them. without fear or scruple. But I'll away, for 'tis a pleasure to be a messenger of comfort to friends in affliction. [Exit. Filch. Sir, Black Moll has sent word, her Peach. But it is now high time to look trial comes on in the afternoon, and she hopes about me, for a decent execution against nest you will order matters so as to bring her off. sessions. I hate a lazy rogue, by whom one Peach. Why, as the wench is very active can get nothing till he is hanged. A register and industrious, you may satisfy her that I'll of the gang. [Reading] Grook-finger'd Jack -a year and a half in the service-let Filch. Tom Gagg, sir, is found guilty. me see, how much the stock owes to his inPeach. A lazy dog! When I took him, dustry;-One, two, three, four, five gold the time before, I told him what he would watches, and seven silver ones. A mighty come to, if he did not mend his hand. This clean-handed fellow sixteen snuff-boxes, five is death, without reprieve. I may venture to of them of true gold, six dozen of handkerbook him; [Writes] for Tom Gagg, forty chiefs, four silver-hilted swords, half-a-dozen pounds 1). Let Betty Sly know, that I'll save of shirts, three tie-perriwigs, and a piece of her from transportation, for I can get more broadcloth. Considering these are only the by her staying in England. fruits of his leisure hours, I don't know a Filch. Betty hath brought more goods to prettier fellow; for no man alive hath a more our lock this year, than any five of the gang; engaging presence of mind upon the road.— and, in truth, 'tis pity to lose so good a cus- Wat Dreary, alias Brown Will-an irregular dog; who hath an underhand way of disposing of Peach. If none of the gang takes her off2), his goods 1); I'll try him only for a sessions she may, in the common course of business, or two longer, upon his good behaviour.live a twelvemonth longer. I love to let wo- Harry Paddington a poor petty-larceny men 'scape. A good sportsman always lets rascal, without the least genius! that fellow, the hen-partridges fly, because the breed of though he were to live these six months, will the game depends upon them. Besides, here never come to the gallows with any credit.the law allows us no reward: there is nothing Slippery Sam-he goes off the next sessions; to be got by the death of women-except our for the villain hath the impudence to have views of following his trade as a tailor, which Filch. Without dispute, she is a fine wo- he calls an honest employment,-Mat-o'theman! 'Twas to her I was obliged for my Mint-listed not above a month ago; a proeducation. a bold word, she has mising, sturdy fellow, and diligent in his way; trained up more young fellows to the busi- somewhat too bold and hasty, and may raise ness, than the gaming-table. good contributions on the public, if he does Peach. Truly, Filch, thy observation is not cut himself short by murder 2), — Tom right. We and the surgeons) are more he- Tipple-a guzzling, soaking sot, who is al 1) Blood money, as it is called, or the sum paid to any way's too drunk to stand himself, or to make one for the conviction of a person who has committed others stand 5) a cart *) is absolutely necessary
a robbery. Peachum's character has, unfortunately, bift too many traits of what is done every day in London. 2) Marries her.
5) The bodies of those hanged for raurder, are given over to the surgeons for dissection.
1) Sells his stolen goods to other people.
3) The highway-robbers putting a pistol at your breast
for him.-Robin of Bagshot, alias Gorgon, What business hath he to keep company alias Bluff Bob, alias Carbuncle, alias with lords and gentlemen? he should leave Bob Bootythem to prey upon one another.
Enter MRS. PEACHUM.
Peach. Upon Polly's account! what a plague doth the woman mean?-Upon Polly's
Mrs. P. What of Bob Booty, husband? I account! hope nothing bad hath betided him. -You know, my dear, he's a favourite customer of the girl. mine-'twas he made me a present of this
Mrs. P. Captain Macheath is very fond of
Mrs. P. If I have any skill in the ways of Peach. I have set his name down in the women, I am sure Polly thinks him a very black list, that's all, my dear; he spends his pretty man.
life among women, and, as soon as his mo- Peach. And what then? you would not be ney gone, one or other of the ladies will so mad as to have the wench marry him! hang him for the reward, and there's forty Gamesters and highwaymen are, generally, pounds lost to us for ever! very good to their mistresses, but they are very devils to their wives.
Mrs. P. You know, my dear, I never meddle in matters of death; I always leave those af Mrs. P. But if Polly should be in love, how fairs to you. Women, indeed, are bitter bad should we help her, or how can she help herjudges in these cases; for they are so partial self?-Poor girl, I'm in the utmost concern to the brave, that they think every man hand-about her! some, who is going to the camp or the gallows.
AIR. MRS. PEACHUM.
If any wench Venus' girdle wear,
The youth in the cart hath the air of a lord,
If love the virgin's heart invade,
If soon she be not made a wife,
in our way of business, is as profitable as at Peach. Lookye, wife, a handsome wench, the bar of a Temple coffee-house, who looks But really, husband, you should not be too upon it as her livelihood, to grant every lihard-hearted, for you never had a finer, bra-berty but one. My daughter to me should ver set of men than at present. We have be like a court lady to a minister' of state, a not had a murder among them all these seven key to the whole gang. Married! if the afmonths; and truly, my dear, that is a great fair is not already done, I'll terrify her from blessing. it, by the example of our neighbours.
Peach. What a dickens is the woman Mrs. P. Mayhap, my dear, you may injure always, whimpering about murder for? No the poor girl: she loves to imitate the fine gentleman is ever looked upon the worse for ladies, and she may only allow the captain killing a man in his own defence; and if bu-liberties, in the view of interest.
siness cannot be carried on without it, what Peach. But 'tis your duty, my dear, to would you have a gentleman do? so, my dear, warn the girl against her ruin, and to instruct have done upon this subject. Was captain her how to make the most of her beauty. I'll Macheath here, this morning, for the bank- go to her this moment, and sift her. In the notes he left with you last week?
mean time, wife, rip out the coronets and marks of these dozen of cambric handkerchiefs, for I can dispose of them this afternoon to a chap in the city.
Mrs. P. Yes, my dear; and though the bank hath stopped payment, he was so cheerful, and so agreeable! Sure, there is not a finer gentleman upon the road) than the Mrs. P. Never was a man more out of the captain; if he comes from Bagshot, at any way in an argument than my husband. Why reasonable hour, he hath promised to make must our Polly, forsooth, differ from her sex, one this evening, with Polly, me, and Bob and love only her husband? and why must Booty, at a party at quadrille. Pray, my dear, Polly's marriage, contrary to all observation, is the captain rich? make her the less followed by other men? Peach. The captain keeps too good com- All men are thieves in love, and like a wopany ever to grow rich. Marybone and the man the better for being another's property. chocolate-houses are his undoing. The man that proposes to get money by play, should have the education of a fine gentleman, and be trained up to it from his youth.
Mrs. P. Really, I am sorry, upon Polly's account, the captain hath not more discretion.
that is very difficult to obey their summons; and ladies, as well as the weaker part of the male sex, are much more inclined to fall, especially when they order you to give your "money" or your "life." 4) Formerly, those cast for death, were conveyed in a cart, all through the streets of London, from Newgate prison to Tyburn; where they were hanged; but now
AIR. MRS. PEACHUM.
A maid is like the golden ore
Mrs. P. Come hither, Filch.-I am as fond
they are "launched into eternity" before the debtors' of this child, as though my mind misgave me
1) A Highway-man
The were my own. He hath as fine a hand