Trudge. Yes: I gave her the letter, Inkle. And where is Yarico? Did she say she'd come? Didn't you do as you were ordered? Didn't you speak to her?

Trudge. I could'nt, sir, I could'nt: 1 intended to say what you bid me-but I felt such a pain in my throat, I couldn't speak a word, for the soul of me; so, sir, I fell a crying.

Inkle. Blockhead!

therefore 'tis necessary for my good-and which I think you value

Yar. You know I do; so much, that it would hreak my heart to leave you,

Inkle. But we must part: if you are seen with me, I shall lose all.

Yar. I gave up all for you-my friendsmy country: all that was dear to me: and still grown dearer since you sheltered there. -All, all was left for you-and were it now

Sir Chr. 'Sblood! but he's a very honest to do again-again I'd cross the seas, and blockhead. 'Tell me, my good fellow, what follow you, all the world over. said the wench?

Inkle. We idle time; sir, she is your's. Trudge. Nothing at all, sir. She sat down See you obey this gentleman; 'twill be the with her two hands clasped on her knees, and better for you. [Going. looked so pitifully in my face, I could not Yar. O, barbarous! [Holding him] Do stand it. Oh, here she comes. I'll go and not, do not abandon me! find Wows: if I must be melancholy, she Inkle. No more.

shall keep me company.

[Exit. Yar. Stay but a little: I shan't live long to Sir Chr. Ods my life, as comely a wench be a burden to you: your cruelty has cut as ever I saw,

me to the heart. Protect me but a little-or I'll obey this man, and undergo all hardships for your good; stay but to witness 'em.-I soon shall sink with grief; tarry till then; and hear me bless your name when I am dying; aud beg you, now and then, when I am gone, to heave a sigh for your poor Yarico.

Inkle. Why, simple girl! I'm labouring for Inkle. I dare not listen. You, sir, I hope, your good. My interest, here, is nothing: I will take good care of her. [Going. can do nothing from myself, you are ignoSir Chr. Care of her! - that I will-Fil rant of our country's customs. I must give cherish her like my own daughter; and pour way to men more powerful, who will not balm into the heart of a poor, innocent girl, have me with you. But see, my Yarico, ever that has been wounded by the artifices of a anxions for your welfare, I've found a kind, scoundrel.

good person, who will protect you.

Yar. Ah! why not you protect me?

Inkle. Ha! 'Sdeath, sir, how dare you!

Sir Chr. 'Sdeath, sir, how dare you look an honest man in the face?

Inkle. Sir, you shall feel

Sir Chr. Feel!-It's more than ever you did,

Inkle. I have no means-how can I? Yar. Just as I sheltered you. Take me to youder mountain, where I see no smoke from tall, high houses, filled with your cruel coun- I believe. Mean, sordid, wretch! dead to all trymen. None of your princes, there, will sense of honour, gratitude, or humanity-I come to take me from you. And should they never heard of such barbarity! I have a sonstray that way, we'll find a lurking place, in-law, who has heen left in the same situajust like my own poor cave, where many a tion; but, if I thought him capable of such day I sat beside you, and blessed the chance cruelty, dam'me if I would not turn him to that brought you to it-that I might save sea, with a peck loaf, in a cockle shell.your life.

Come, come, cheer up, my girl! You shan't Sir Chr. His life! Zounds! my blood boils want a friend to protect you, I warrant you at the scoundrel's ingratitude! [Taking Yarico by the Hand. Inkle. Insolence! The governor shall hear

of this insult,

Yar. Come, come, let's go. I always feared these cities. Let's fly and seek the woods; and there we'll wander hand in hand together. Sir Chr. The governor! liar! cheat! rogue! No cares shall vex us then-We'll let the day impostor! breaking all ties you ought to keep, glide by in idleness; and you shall sit in the and pretending to those you have no right shade, and watch the sun beam playing on to. The governor never had such a fellow in the brook, while I sing the song that pleases the whole catalogue of his acquaintance-the you. No cares, love, but for food-and we'll governor disowns you-the governor disclaims live cheerily, I warrant-In the fresh, early you the governor abhors you; and to your morning, you shall hunt down our game, utter confusion, here stands the governor to and I will pick you berries-and then, at tell you so. Here stands old Curry, who nenight, I'll trim our bed of leaves, and lie me ver talked to a rogue without telling him what down in peace-Oh! we shall be so happy! he thought of him.

Inkle. Hear me, Yarico. My countrymen Inkle. Sir Christopher! - Lost and undone! and yours differ as much in minds as in Med. [Without] Holo! Young Multiplicacomplexions. We were not born to live in tion! Zounds! I have been peeping in every woods and caves to seek subsistence by pur-cranny of the house, Why, young Rule of suing beasts.-We Christians, girl, hunt mo- Three! [Enters from the Inn] Oh, here ney; a thing unknown to you. - But, here, you are at last-Ah, Sir Christopher! What 'tis money which brings us ease, plenty, com- are you there! too impatient to wait at home. 'mand, power, every thing; and of course hap- But here's one that will make you easy, I piness. You are the bar to my attaining this; fancy. [Tapping Inkle on the Shoulder.

Sir Chr. How came you to know him?
Enter TRUDGE and WOWSKI.
Med. Ha! ha! Well, that's curious enough Trudge. Come along, Wows! take a long

too. So you have been talking here, without
finding out each other.

Sir Chr. No, no, I have found him out with a vengeance.

Med. Not you. Why this is the dear boy. It's my nephew, that is; your son in law, that is to be. It's Inkle!

Sir Chr. It's a lie: and you're a purblind old booby-and this dear boy is a damned scoundrel.

last leave of your poor mistress: throw your pretty ebony arms about her neck.

Wows. No, no;-she not go; you not leave poor Wowski.

[Throwing her arms about Yarico. Sir Chr. Poor girl! a companion, I take it! Trudge. A thing of my own, sir. I couldn't help following my master's example in the woods-Like master, like man, sir,

Sir Chr. But you would not sell her, and

Trudge. Hang me, like a dog, if I would,

Med. Hey-dey, what's the meaning of this? be hang'd to you, you dog, would you? One was mad before, and he has bit the other, I suppose.

Sir Chr. But here comes the dear boythe true boy-the jolly boy, piping hot from church, with my daughter.

Enter CAMPLEY, NARCISSA, and PATTY.
Med. Campley!

Sir Chr. Who? Campley; -it's no such thing.

sir.

Sir Chr. So say I, to every fellow that breaks an obligation due to the feelings of a man. But, old Medium, what have you to say for your hopeful nephew?

Med. I never speak ill of my friends, sir Christopher.

Camp. That's my name, indeed, Sir Chri-a stopher.

Sir Chr. The devil it is! And how came you, sir, to impose upon me, and assume the name of Inkle? A name which every man of honesty ought to be ashamed of.

Sir Chr. Pshaw!

Inkle. Then let me speak: hear me defend conduct

Sir Chr. Defend! Zounds! plead guilty at once-it's the only hope left of obtaining mercy.

son?

Inkle. Suppose, old gentleman, you had a
Sir Chr, 'Sblood! then I'd make him an

Camp. I never did, sir. - Since I sailed from ngland with your daughter, my affection has honest fellow; and teach him that the feeling, daily encreased: and when I came to explain heart never knows greater pride than when myself to you, by a number of concurring it's employed in giving succour to the unforcircumstances, which I am now partly ac-tunate. I'd teach him to be his father's own quainted with, you mistook me for that gen- son to a hair.

tleman. Yet had I even then been aware of Inkle. Even so my father tutored me: from your mistake, I must confess, the regard for infancy, bending my tender mind, like a young

my own happiness would have tempted me

to let you remain undeceived.

Sir Chr. And did you, Narcissa, join inNar. How could I, my dear sir, disobey you?

sapling, to his will-Interest was the grand prop round which he twined my pliant green affections: taught me in child-hood to repeat old sayings - all tending to his own fixed principles, and the first sentence that I ever

Patty. Lord, your honour, what young la- lisped, was charity begins at home. dy could refuse a captain?

Sir Chr. I shall never like a proverb again, Inkle. As I grew up, he'd prove-and by income is triding to your intended son-in-example-were I in want, I might even starve, law's, still the chance of war has enabled me for what the world cared for their neighto support the object of my love above indi-bours; why then should I care for the world! gence. Her fortune, sir Christopher, I do not men now lived for themselves. These were consider myself by any means entitled to. his doctrines: then, sir, what would you say, Sir Chr. Sblood! but you must though. should I, in spite of habit, precept, education, Give me your hand, my young Mars, and fly into my father's face, and spurn his counbless you both together, -Thank you, thank cils?

and War is the soldier's motto; though my
Camp. I am a soldier, sir Christopher. Love as long as I live.

you for cheating an old fellow into giving Sir Chr. Say! why, that you were a damnhis daughter to a lad of spirit, when he was ed honest, undutiful fellow. O curse such

going to throw her away upon one, in whose breast the mean passion of avarice smothers the smallest spark of affection, or humanity. Inkle. Confusion!

Nar. I have this moment heard a story of a transaction in the forest, which, I own, would have rendered compliance with your former commands very disagreeable.

Patty. Yes, sir, I told my mistress he had brought over a botty-pot gentlewoman.

principles! principles, which destroy all con-
fidence between man and man-Principles,
which none but a rogue could instil, and
none but a rogue could imbibe.-Principles-
Inkle. Which I renounce.
Sir Chr. Eh!

Inkle. Renounce entirely. Ill-founded precept too long has steeled my breast-but still 'tis vulnerable-this trial was too much-Nature; against habit combating within me, has penetrated to my heart; a heart, I own, long

Sir Chr. Yes, but he would have left her For you; [To Narcissa] and you for his in- callous to the feelings of sensibility: but now erest; and sold you, perhaps, as he has this it bleeds - and bleeds for my poor Yarico. Door girl, to me, as a requital for preserving Oh, let me clasp her to it, while 'tis glowing, ais life. and mingle tears of love and penitence. [Embracing her.

Nar. How!

Trudge. [Capering about] Wows, give me a kiss! [Wowski goes to Trudge.

Ah! how can I forbear

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,

To join the jocund dance?
To and fro, couples go,
On the light fantastic toe,
While with glee, merrily,
The rosy hours advance.

you surely gave your Yarico such pain, only Yarico. When first the swelling sea

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

Hither bore my love and me,
What then my fate would be,
Liule did I think-
Doom'd to know care and woe,
Happy still is Yarico;
Since her love will constant prove.
And nobly scorn to shrink.

plague's the matter with my eyes?-Young Wowski. Whilst all around rejoice,

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 fel fellow, [to Trudge] I must, with your master's permission, employ you myself.

Trudge. O rare! - Bless your honour! Wows! you'll be lady, you jade, to a governor's factotum.

Wows. Iss. I lady Jactotum.

Trudge.

Sir Chr. And now, my young folks, we'll drive home, and celebrate the wedding. Od's my life! I long to be skaking a foot at the fiddles, and I shall dance ten times the lighter, Inkle. for reforming an Inkle, while I have it in my power to reward the innocence of a Yarico.

Pipe and tabor raise the voice,
It can't be Wowski's choice,
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 here;
Night and day, I'll frisk and plas

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 beard-
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.

JOHN GAY.

re

gay,

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 into 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 Minorca. Nor was the fame of it confined to the reading and presentation 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 all degrees of people, that it even for that season overthrew the Italian opera, that Dagon of the nobility and gentry, which had so long seduced them to idolatry, and which Dennis, by the labours and outcries of a whole life, and many other writers, hy 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 picce were so very great, hoth to the author and Mr. Rich the manager, that it gave rise to a quibble, which became frequent in the mouths of many, viz. That it had made Rich 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 mistepresentations made of him, as having been the author of some disaffected 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 bring a loss to the author; for, as it was afterwards confessed, even by his very best friends, to be in every respect infinitely inferior to Die 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 pieces 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 1. 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 allable, 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 1732. He was interred in Westminster Abbey, and a monument erected to his memory, at the expense of his afore

1

■mentioned noble benefactors, with an inscription expressive of their regards and his own deserts, and an epitaph in verse by Mr. Pope; butt, as both of them are still in existence, and free of access to every one, it would be impertinent to repeat either of them in this place.

BEGGAR'S OPERA,

AIR.-FILCH.

PEACHUM sitting at a Table, with a large 'Tis woman that seduces all mankind;

Book of Accounts before him,

AIR.-PEACHUM.

By her we first were taught the wheedling arts;

Through all the employments of life,

Each neighbour abuses his brother:

Whore and rogue, they call husband and wife: And practise every fraud to bribe her charms;

Her very eyes can cheat; when most she's kind,
She tricks us of our money, with our hearts.
For her, like wolves by night, we roam for prey,

For, suits of love, like law, are won by pay,
And beauty must be fee'd into our arms.

All professions be-rogue one another.
cheat;

The priest calls the lawyer a
The lawyer be-knaves the divine;
And the statesman, because he's so great,
Thinks his trade is as honest as mine.

Peach. But make haste to Newgate, bor, 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 casuspense, 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

Enter FILCH. '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] Crook-finger'd Jack

soften the evidence.

-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

tomer.

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 creditthe 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

wives.

man! 'Twas to her I was

Filch. Without dispute, she is a fine wo- he calls an honest employment,-Mat-e'theobliged for my Mint-listed not above a month ago; a preeducation. To say 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 doe

Peach. Truly, Filch, thy observation is not cut himself short by murder *), - Tas

right. We and the surgeons) are more be

1) Blood money, as it is called, or the sum paid to any

one for the conviction of a person who has committed a robbery. Peachum's character has, unfortunately, but too many traits of what is done every day in London. 2) Marries her.

Tipple-a guzzling, soaking sot, who is a ways too drunk to stand himself, or to make others stand stand 5) cart+) is absolutely necessar

a