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Lord A.


In thee each grace possessing,
All must my choice approve.
To you my all is owing;
O! take a heart o'erflowing
With gratitude and love.
Thus infolding,
Thus beholding,

One to my soul so dear;
Can there be pleasure greater?
Can there be bliss completer?
'Tis too much to bear.


Enter GILES.

Giles. Ods bobs, where am I running-I beg pardon for my audacity.

Ralph. Hip, farmer; come back, mon, come back-Sure my lord's going to marry sister himself, feyther's to have a fine house, and I'm to be a captain.

Lord A. Ho, master Giles, pray walk in; here is a lady who, I dare say, will be glad to see you, and give orders that you shall always be made welcome,

come in the kitchen.
Ralph. Yes, farmer, you'll always be wel-

Lord A. What, have you nothing to say Sir H. Well, we have followed your lord- to your old acquaintance-Come, pray let the ip's counsel, and made the best of a bad farmer salute you-Nay, a kiss-I insist uparket-So, my lord, please 'o know our on it. n-in-law that is to be.

Lord A. You do me a great deal of honour I wish you joy, sir, with all my heart. And ow, sir Harry, give me leave to introduce you a new relation of mine-This, sir, is ortly to be my wife.

Sir H. My lord!

Lady S. Your lordship's wife!
Lord A. Yes, madam.

Sir H. Ha, ha, ha-hem!

Lady S. Sir Harry, I am ready to sink at the monstrousness of your behaviour.

Lord A. Fie, master Giles, don't look so sheepish; you and I were rivals, but not less friends at present. You have acted in this affair like an honest Englishman, wo scorned even the shadow of dishonour, and thou shalt sit rent-free for a twelvemonth.

Sir H. Come, shan't we all salute-With your leave, my lord, I'll—

Lady S. Sir Harry!


Lord A. Yield who will to forms a martyr,
While unaw'd by idle shame,
Pride for happiness I barter,
Heedless of the millions' blame.
Thus with love my arms I quarter;
Women grac'd in nature's frame,
Ev'ry privilege, by charter,

Lady S. And why so, my lord?
Lord A. Why, faith, ma'am, because I can't
e happy without her-And I think she has
o many amiable, too many estimable qua-
ies to meet with a worse fate.
Sir H. Well, but you are
a peer of the
alm; you will have all the fleerers-
Lord A. I know very well the ridicule that
ay be thrown on a lord's marrying a mill-
's daughter; and I own with blushes it has
r some time had too great weight with me:
t we should marry to please ourselves, not
her people; and, on mature consideration, Theo.
can see no reproach justly merited by rais-
g a deserving woman to a station she is
pable of adorning, let her birth be what

Sir H. Why 'tis very true, my lord. I once
ew a gentleman that married his cook-maid:
was a relation of my own-You remember

. Margery, my lady. She was a very good Sir H.
rt of woman, indeed she was, and made
best suet dumplings I ever tasted.
Lady S. Will you never learn, sir Harry,
guard your expressions?-Well, but give
e leave, my lord, to say a word to you.-
ere are other ill consequences attending
ch an alliance.

Lord A. One of them I suppose is, that I,
peer, should be obliged to call this good
I miller father-in-law. But where's the shame
that? He is as good as any lord in being
man; and if we dare suppose a lord that
not an honest man, he is, in my opinion,
more respectable character. Come, master
irfield, give me your hand; from hence-
th you have done with working: we will
il down your mill, and build you a house
the place of it; and the money I intended
the portion of your daughter, shall now
laid out in purchasing a commission for

ur son.

Ralph. What, my lord, will you make me

Lord A. Ay, a colonel, if you deserve it.
Ralph. Then I'll keep Fan.


Have a right from man to claim.
Eas'd of doubts and fears presaging,
What new joys within me rise;
While mamma, her frowns assuaging,
Dares no longer tyrannise.

So long storms and tempests raging,
When the blust'ring fury dies,
Ah, how lovely, how engaging,
Prospects fair, and cloudless skies!
Dad, but this is wondrous pretty,
Singing each a roundelay;
And I'll mingle in the ditty,
Though I scarce know what to say.
There's a daughter brisk and witty;
Here's a wife can wisely sway:
Trust me, masters, 'twere a pity,
Not to let them have their way.
My example is a rare one;
But the cause may be divin'd:
Women want not merit-dare one
Hope discerning men to find.
O! may each accomplish'd fair one,
Bright in person, sage in mind,
Viewing my good fortune, share one
Full as splendid, and as kind.

Ralph. Captain Ralph my lord will dub me,
Soon I'll mount a huge cockade;
Mounseer shall powder, queue,
club me,


'Gad, I'll be a roaring blade,
If Fan shall offer once to snub me,
When in scarlet all array'd;
Or my feather dare to drub me,
Frown your worst--but who's afraid?
Giles. Laugh'd at, slighted, circumvented,

And expos'd for folks to see't,
'Tis as tho'f a man repented
For his follies in a sheet.
But my wrongs go unresented,

Since the fates have thought them meet;
This good company contented,
All my wishes are complete.



Is the son of the author of The Clandestine Marriage. With the precise time of his birth we are unacquainted; 14 | we suppose it to have been about the year 1767. He received his early education at Mr. Fountain's academy in Mas bone, at that time in high estimation. He was next sent to Westminster School, and afterwards entered at Christc College, Oxford; but, for what reason we know not, he finished his education at King's College, Old Aberdeen; wher he returned to London, and was entered of the Temple; with the design, it is said, to qualify him for the bar. if so, he early in life resigned Coke and Littleton in favour of the Muses. The consciousness of literary talents, a an easy access to the public through the medium of his father's theatre, naturally directed his attention to the dra and his parent seemed to foster his genius; as he, in the prologue to the first play of his son's, announced him a chip of the old block." When his father was seized with that malady which rendered him incapable of mperiniends, the theatre, Mr. Colman evinced a most commendable Elial affection, by the great attention that he paid to him a to the interests of his theatre. On the death of his father, His Majesty was pleased to transfer the patent to in and he has discharged the duties of manager with zeal and alacrity towards the public, and liberality towards and and actors. In private life Mr. Colman is social, convivial, and intelligent; and in the playful contentions of win humour, and particularly that agreeable coruscation called repartee, he may perhaps be equalled, but, we think, rarely been excelled. In his heroic pieces, we observe a poetical vigour, a form of language, and a cast of senti that forcibly remind us of the very best of our ancient dramatic writers. In the spring of the year 179", Mr. Cam published My Nightgown and Slippers, a thin quarto, consisting of some amusing poetical trifles. In prologue as epilogue, we cannot better compare Mr. Colman with any one than with the late Mr. Garrick. His compositive this way are very abundant, and excellent in their kind.


Opera by George Colman jun. 1787. The great success of this Opera in every theatre in the Kingdom, since is representation at the Haymarket, is justified by its real merit. The dialogue is not a collection of trite common pe to connect the music; but is replete with taste, judgment, and manly feeling; the allusions to slavery (Dow so 1. abolished) correspond with every British, every liberal, mind. The mal-à-propos offer of Inkle to sell his Y Sir Christopher, is an admirable incident; and indeed all the characters are as forcibly drawn, that the most trilling is effective. The pathetic story of Inkle and Yarico first attracted sympathy, from the narrative of Mr. Addit. » the Spectator: to that affecting story, Mr. Colman was indebted only for the cold, calculating Inkle; and the go affectionate Yarico;-the rest of the characters and the developement of the whole are offspring of his abundant inves

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SCENE. First, on the Main of America: afterwards, in Barbadoes.


SCENE I.-An American forest. Med. [Without] HILLI bo! ho! Trudge. [Without] Hip! hollo!

to bring all the natives about us; and we sh be stripped and plundered in a minute. Trudge. Aye; stripping is the first that would happen to us; for they seem te ho!-Hip!-woefully off for a wardrobe. I myself three, at a distance, with less clothes tha Enter MEDIUM and TRUDGE. have when I get out of bed: all dancing ab Med. Pshaw! it's only wasting time and in black buff; just like Adam in mourning breath. Bawling won't persuade him to budge Med. This is to have to do with a schemer a bit faster. Things are all altered now; and, a fellow who risques his life, for a chance whatever weight it may have in some places, advancing his interest.-Always advantage bawling, it seems, don't go for argument, here. view! trying, here, to make discoveries Plague on't! we are now in the wilds of may promote his profit in England. Anothe America. Botany Bay scheme, mayhap. Nothing could induce him to quit our foraging part Med. Hold your tongue, you blockhead, or- from the ship; when he knows every inbal Trudge. Lord! sir, if my master makes no tant here is not only as black as a peppe more haste, we shall all be put to sword by corn, but as hot into the bargain-and I the knives of the natives. I'm told they take a fool, to follow him! and then to let he off heads like hats, and hang 'em on pegs in loiter behind. Why, nephew! why, Inkle! their parlours. Mercy on us! my head aches Calli with the very thoughts of it. Holo! Mr. Inkle! Trudge. Why, Inkle-Well! only to s master; holo! the difference of men! he'd have thought i Med. Head aches! zounds, so does mine very hard, now, if I had let him call softe with your confounded bawling. It's enough after me. Ah! I wish he was calling after

Trudge. Hip, billio-ho-hi!—

now, in the old jog-trot way, again. expensive plan for a trader, truly. What, hat a fool was I, to leave London for would you have a man of business come eign parts!-That ever I should leave Thread-abroad, scamper extravagantly bere and there dle-street, to thread an American forest, and every where, then return home, and have ere a man's as soon lost as a needle in a nothing to tell, but that he has been here and tle of hay! there and every where? 'sdeath, sir, would Med. Patience, Trudge! patience! If we you have me travel like a lord? Travelling, ce recover the shipuncle, was always intended for improvement; Trudge. Lord, sir, I shall never recover and improvement is an advantage; and adat I have lost in coming abroad. When vantage is profit, and profit is gain. Which, master and I were in London, I had such in the travelling translation of a trader, means, nortal snug birth of it! why, I was factotum. that you should gain every advantage of imMed. Factotum to a young merchant is no proving your profit. I have been comparing h sinecure, neither. the land, here, with that of our own country. Trudge. But then the honour of it. Think Med. And you find it like a good deal of that, sir; to be clerk as well as own man. the land of our own country - cursedly enly consider. You find very few city clerks cumbered with black legs 1), I take it. de out of a man 1), now-a-days. To be

Inkle. And calculating how much it might

Med. You were?

g of the counting-house, as well as lord be made to produce by the acre.
the bed-chamber. Ah! if I had him but
v in the little dressing room behind the
ce; tying his hair, with a bit of red tape,

Med. Yes, or writing an invoice with lamp-
k, and shining his shoes with an ink-bottle,
usual, you blundering blockhead!

Trudge. Oh! if I was but brushing the acnts, or casting up the coats! mercy on us! at's that?

led. That! what?

rudge. Did'nt you hear a noise?

led. Y-es-but-hush! Oh, heavens be ised! here he is at last.

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Inkle. Yes; I was proceeding algebraically upon the subject.

Med. Indeed!

Inkle. And just about extracting the square root. Med, Hum!

Inkle. I was thinking too, if so many natives could be caught, how much they might fetch at the West Indian markets.

Med. Now let me ask you a question, or two, young cannibal catcher, if you please. Inkle. Well.

Med. Aren't we bound for Barbadoes; partly to trade, but chiefly to carry home the daughter of the governor, Sir Christopher Curry, who has till now been under your father's care, in Threadneedle-street, for polite English education?

Inkle. Granted.

led. Zounds, one would think, by your founded composure, that you were walking St. James's Park, instead of an American Med. And isn't it determined, between the est; and that all the beasts were nothing old folks, that you are to marry Narcissa as good company. The hollow trees, here, soon as we get there? ry boxes, and the lions in 'em soldiers; jackalls, courtiers; the crocodiles, fine nen; and the baboons, beaus. What the que made you loiter so long? nkle. Reflection.

Inkle. A fixed thing,

Med. Then what the devil do you do here, hunting old hairy negroes, when you ought to be ogling a fine girl in the ship? Algebra, too! you'll have other things to think of when fed. So I should think; reflection generally you are married, I promise you. A plodding es lagging behind. What, scheming, I fellow's head, in the hands of a young wife, pose; never quiet. At it again, eh: what like a boy's slate after school, soon gets all ppy trader is your father, to have so pru- its arithmetic wiped off: and then it appears a son for a partner! why, you are the in its true simple state; dark, empty, and fullest Co. in the whole city. Never losing bound in wood, Master Inkle.

t of the main chance; and that's the rea- Inkle. Not in a match of this kind. Why, perhaps, you lost sight of us, here, on it's a table of interest from beginning to end, main of America. old Medium.


nkle. Right, Mr. Medium. Arithmetic, I Med, Well, well, this is no time to talk. 1, has been the means of our parting at Who knows but, instead of sailing to a wedding, we may get cut up, here, for a wedding rudge. Ha! a sum in division, I reckon. dinner: tossed up for a dingy duke perhaps, [Aside. or stewed down for a black baronet, or eat raw by an inky commoner?

led. And pray, if I may be so bold, what hty scheme has just tempted you to em- Inkle. Why, sure, you aren't afraid? your head, when you ought to make Med. Who, I afraid! ha! ha! ha! no, not of your heels? I! what the deuce should I be afraid of? thank nkle. My heels! here's pretty doctrine! do heaven, I have a clear conscience, and need think I travel merely for motion? a fine not be afraid of any thing. A scoundrel might Double entendre. The second meaning, generally given not be quite so easy on such an occasion; by the actor with an arch look at the upper-boxes, but it's the part of an honest man not to bethe place of resort of the London clerks at the The- have like a scoundrel: I never behaved like a atres, is, that there are very few clerks really men now-a-days, they being rather dandyish and effemi- 1) Elack legs, (slang) for Gamesters; and the blacks, or nate in their dress. negroes, have, of course, black legs.

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scoundrel-for which reason I am an honest | And the Eagle, I warrant you, looks like a man, you know. But come-I hate to boast of my good qualities.


But we merchant lads, tho' the foe we can't

Inkle. Slow and sure, my good, virtuous, Mr. Medium! our companions can be but half a mile before us: and, if we do but double Nor are paid, their steps, we shall overtake 'em at one mile's end, by all the powers of arithmetic.

Med. Oh, curse your arithmetic! how are we to find our way?

Inkle. That, uncle, must be left to the doctrine of chances. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Another part of the Forest. A ship at anchor in the bay, at a small distance.

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Why we pay ourselves well, without fighting

at all.

1st Sail. Avast! look a-head there. Here they come, chased by a fleet of black detik, Midsh. And the devil a fire have I to give 'em. We han't a grain of powder left. Wis must we do, lad?

2nd Sail. Do? sheer off, to be sure. All. Come, bear a hand, Master Mark

Enter SAILORS and MATE, as returning from spike!


Midsh. [Reluctantly] Well, if I mus, 1 Mate. Come, come, bear a hand 1), my must [Going to the other side and hall lads. Tho'f the bay is just under our bow-to Inkle, etc.] Yoho, lubbers! crowd all ve sprits, it will take a damned deal of tripping sail you can, d'ye mind me!

to come at it-there's hardly any steering clear

of the rocks here. But do we muster all Enter MEDIUM, running, as pursued t hands? all right, think ye?



the Blacks. 1st Sail. All to a man - besides yourself, Med. Nephew! Trudge! run — and a monkey-the three land lubbers 2), that scour-fly! zounds, what harm did I ever s edged away in the morning, goes for nothing, to be hunted to death by a pack of bod know-they're all dead may-hap, by this. hounds? why, nephew! Oh, confound Mate. Dead! you be-why, they're friends long sums in arithmetic! I'll take care of m of the captain; and, if not brought safe aboard self; and if we must have any arithmetic, a to-night, you may all chance to have a salt and carry one for my money. [Runs eel for your supper-that's all. — Moreover, the young plodding spark, he with the grave, foul-weather face, there, is to man the tight

Enter, INKLE and TRUDGE, hastily. Trudge. Oh! that ever I was born, to las

fore us?

little frigate, Miss Narcissa, what d'ye call her, pen, ink, and powder, for this! that is bound with us for Barbadoes. Rot'em Inkle. Trudge, how far are the sailors le for not keeping under way, I say! but come, let's see if a song will bring 'em to. Let's have a full chorus to the good merchant ship, the Achilles, that's wrote by our Captain. The Achilles, though christen'd, good ship, 'tis surmis'd,

From that old man of war, great Achilles, so

Was he, like our vessel, pray, fairly baptiz'd?
Ti tol lol, etc.

Poets sung that Achilles-if, now, they've an


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And that one rode in Greece-and the other
in pitch.
What tho' but a merchant ship—sure our
Now your men of war's gain in a lottery lies,
And how blank they all look, when they can't
get a prize!

What are all their fine names? when no
rhino's behind,
The Intrepid, and Lion, look sheepish, you'll

Whilst, alas! the poor Aeolus can't raise the

Then the Thunderer's dumb; out of tune the

The Cercs has nothing at all to produce;

1) Make haste.

2) The elegant denomination given by sailors to persons not belonging to the sea, to shew their superlative contempt for every thing on dry land.

Trudge. I'll run and see, sir, directly.
Inkle. Blockhead, come here. The sava
are close upon us; we shall scarce be able
trees with me; they'll pass us, and we a
recover our party. Get behind this tuf
then recover our ship with safety.
Trudge. [Going behind] Oh! Threadnee
street, Thread!-
Inkle Peace.

Trudge. [Hiding] needle-street.
[They hide behind trees. Natives cros
After a long pause, Inkle
from the trees.

Inkle, Trudge.
Trudge. Sir.
[In a whispe
Inkie. Are they all gone by?
Trudge. Won't you look and see?
Inkle. [Looking round] So, all's sale d
last. [Coming forward] Nothing like
in these cases; but you'd have run on,
booby! A tree, I fancy, you'll find, in futter,
the best resource in a hot pursuit.

Trudge. Oh, charming! It's a retreat for? king), sir. Mr. Medium, however, has n got up in it; your uncle, sir, has run on a booby; and has got up with our party this time, I take it; who are now most k at the shore. But what are we to do next, & Inkle. Reconnoitre a little, and then proce Trudge. Then pray, sir, proceed to rec noitre; for, the sooner the better. Inkle. Then look out, d'ye hear, and t if you discover any danger. Trudge. Y-ye-s-yes; but-[Tremblias


1) Charles sd. hid himself in a tree.

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Inkle. Well, is the coast clear? This cavern may prove a safe retreat to us Trudge. Eh! Oh lord!-Clear? [Rubbing for the present. I'll enter, cost what it will. is eyes] Oh dear! oh dear! the coast will Trudge. Oh Lord! no, don't, don't - We oon be clear enough now, I promise you-shall pay too dear for our lodging, depend on't. The ship is under sail, sir! Inkle. This is no time for debating. You

Inkle. Confusion! my property carried off are at the mouth of it: lead the way, Trudge. a the vessel.

Trudge. All, all, sir, except me.

Inkle. They may report me dead, perhaps; nd dispose of my property at the next island. [Vessel under sail.

Trudge. What! go in before your honour! I know my place better, I assure you-I might walk into more mouths than one, perhaps. [Aside. Inkle. Coward! then follow me. [Noise again, Trudge. Ah! there they go. [A gun fired] Trudge. I must, sir; I must! Ah Trudge, hat will be the last report 1) we shall ever Trudge! what a damned hole are you getting ar from 'em, I'm afraid. That's as much into!


to say, good by to ye. And here we are SCENE III.-A cave, decorated with skins ft-two fine, full-grown babes in the wood! of wild beasts, feathers, etc. a rude kind Inkle. What an ill-timed accident! just too, of curtain, as door to an inner part. hen my speedy union with Narcissa, at rbadoes, would so much advance my interests. Enter INKLE and TRUDGE, from mouth of mething must be hit upon, and speedily;

t what resource?


the cavern.

Trudge. Why, sir! you must be mad to

Trudge. The old one-a tree, sir-'tis all go any farther. have for it now. What would I give, Inkle. So far, at least, we have proceeded w, to be perched upon a high stool, with with safety. Ha! no bad specimen of savage e brown desk squeezed into the pit of my elegance. These ornaments would be worth mach-scribbling away an old parchment! tall my red ink will be spilt by an old ck pin of a negro.

voyage over seas had not enter'd my head, I known but on which side to butter my


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the only sign here, is of nothing to eat. gho! that I-for hunger should die! mutton's all lost; I'm a poor starving elf; I for all the world like a lost mutton myself.

Oho! I shall die a lost mutton!
Oh! what a lost mutton am I!

a neat slice of beef, I could roar like a bull;
my stomach's so empty, my heart is
quite full.

gho! that I-for hunger should die!
, grave without meat, I must here meet
iny grave,

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my bacon, I fancy, I never shall save. Oho! I shall ne'er save my bacon! I can't save my bacon, not I! rudge. Hum! I was thinking I was king, sir-if so many natives could be ht, how much they might fetch at the st India markets!

something in England.-We have little to fear here, hope: this cave rather bears the pleasing face of a profitable adventure.

Trudge. Very likely, sir; but, for a pleasing face, it has the cursed'st ugly mouth I ever saw in my life. Now do, sir, make off as fast as you can. If we once get clear of the natives' houses, we have little to fear from the lions and leopards; for, by the appearance of their parlours, they seem to have killed all the wild beasts in the country. Now pray, do, my good master, take my advice, and run

Inkle. Rascal! Talk again of going out, and I'll flea you alive.

Trudge. That's just what I expect for coming their skin stript over their cars; and ours will in. All that enter here appear to have had be kept for curiosities-We shall stand here, stuffed, for a couple of white wonders.

Inkle. This curtain seems to lead to another apartment: I'll draw it.

Trudge. No, no, no, don't; don't. We may be called to account for disturbing the company: you may get a curtain lecture, perhaps, sir.

Inkle. Peace, booby, and stand on your guard.

Trudge. Oh! what will become of us! some grim seven-foot fellow ready to scalp us. Inkle. By heaven! a woman!

[Yarico and Wowski, discovered asleep. Trudge. A woman! [Aside-loud] But let him come on; I'm ready-dam'me, I don't fear facing the devil himself—Faith, it is a woman— fast asleep, too.

Inkle. And beautiful as an angel!

kle. Scoundrel! is this a time to jest? rudge. No, faith, sir! hunger is too sharp e jested with. As for me, I shall starve want of food. Now you may meet a Trudge. And, egad! there seems to be a ier fate: you are able to extract the square nice, little, plump, bit in the corner; only , sir; and that's the very best provision she's an angel of rather darker sort.

can find here to live upon. But I ise at a distance] Mercy on us! here come again.

Inkle. Hush! keep back-she wakes.

kle. Confusion! deserted on one side, and
sed on the other, which way shall I turn?-Yarico.

Report of a gun; and report, an account of any thing
that as happened

[Yarico comes forward - Inkle and
Trudge retire to the opposite sides
of the scene.

When the chace of day is dɔne,
And the shaggy lion's skin,
Which, for us, our warriors win,

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