Queene Opinion predominates, governs, whose mon sort, plebs, the rabble, duelloes with shifting and ever mutable Lampas, me seemeth, is man's destinie to follow, she præcurseth, she guideth him, before his uncapable eyes she frisketh her tender lights, which entertayne the child-man, untill what time his sight be strong to endure the vision of Very Truth, which is in the heavens, the vision beatifical, as Anianus expounds in his argument against certain mad wits which helde God to be corporeous; these were dizzards, fools, gothamites. but and if Very Truth be extant indeede on earth, as some hold she it is which actuates men's deeds, purposes, ye may in vaine look for her in the learned universities, halls, colleges. Truth is no Doctoresse, she takes no degrees at Paris or Oxford, amongst great clerks, disputants, subtile Aristotles, men nodosi ingenii, able to take Lully by the chin, but oftentimes to such an one as myself, an Idiota or common person, no great things, melancholizing in woods where waters are, quiet places by rivers, fountains, whereas the silly man expecting no such matter, thinketh only how best to delectate and refresh his mynde continually with Natura her pleasaunt scenes, woods, water-falls, or Art her statelie gardens, parks, terraces, Belvideres, on a sudden the goddesse herself Truth has appeared, with a shyning lyghte, and a sparklyng countenance, so as yee may not be able lightly to resist her. fists, proper to this island, at which the stiletto'd and secret Italian laughs.) Withdrawing myselfe from these buzzing and illiterate vanities, with a bezo las manos to the city, I begin to inhale, draw in, snuff up, as horses dilatis naribus snort the fresh aires, with exceeding great delight, when suddenly there crosses me a procession, sad, heavy, dolourous, tristfull, melancholick, able to change mirth into dolour, and overcast a clearer atmosphere than possibly the neighbourhoods of so great a citty can afford. An old man, a poore man deceased, is borne on men's shoulders to a poore buriall, without solemnities of hearse, mourners, plumes, muta persona, those personate actors that will weep if yee shew them a piece of silver; none of those customed civilities of children, kinsfolk, dependants, following the coffin; he died a poore man, his friends accessores opum, those cronies of his that stuck by him so long as he had a penny, now leave him, forsake him, shun him, desert him; they think it much to follow his putrid and stinking carcase to the grave; his children, if he had any, for commonly the case stands thus, this poore man his son dies before him, he survives, poore, indigent, base, dejected, miserable, &c., or if he have any which survive him, sua negotia agunt, they mind their own business, forsooth, cannot, will not, find time, leisure, inclination, extremum munus perficere, to follow to the pit their old indulgent father, which loved them, stroked them, caressed them, cockering them up, quantum potuit, as farre as his means extended, while they were This morning, May 2, 1662, having first babes, chits, minims, hee may rot in his broken my fast upon eggs and cooling salades, grave, lie stinking in the sun for them, have mallows, water-cresses, those herbes, accord- no buriall at all, they care not. O nefas! ing to Villanovus his prescription, who dis- Chiefly I noted the coffin to have been withallows the use of meat in a morning as gross, out a pall, nothing but a few planks, of fat, hebetant, feral, altogether fitter for wild cheapest wood that could be had, naked, beasts than men, e contra commendeth this having none of the ordinary symptomata of a herb-diete for gentle, humane, active, con- funerall, those locularii which bare the body ducing to contemplation in most men, I be- having on diversely coloured coats, and none took myselfe to the nearest fields. (Being in black: (one of these reported the deceased London I commonly dwell in the suburbes, as to have been an almsman seven yeares, a airiest, quietest, loci musis propriores, free pauper, harboured and fed in the workhouse from noises of caroches, waggons, mechanick of St. Giles-in-the-Fields, to whose proper and base workes, workshoppes, also sights, burying-ground he was now going for interpageants, spectacles of outlandish birds, ment.) All which when I behelde, hardly I fishes, crocodiles, Indians, mermaids; adde refrained from weeping, and incontinently I quarrels, fightings, wranglings of the com- fell to musing: "If this man had been rich, * EXTRACT III. a Cræsus, a Crassus, or as rich as Whittington, the deceased; hypocriticall heirs, sobbing, what pompe, charge, lavish cost, expenditure, striking their breasts (they care not if he of rich buriall, ceremoniall-obsequies, obsequious had died a year ago); so many clients, i ceremonies, had been thought too good for dependants, flatterers, parasites, cunning such an one; what store of panegyricks, Gnathoes, tramping on foot after the hearse, elogies, funeral orations, &c., some beggarly all their care is, who shall stand fairest with poetaster, worthy to be beaten for his ill the successour; he mean time (like enough) rimes, crying him up, hee was rich, generous, spurns them from him, spits at them, treads bountiful, polite, learned, a Maecenas, while them under his foot, will have nought to do as in very deede he was nothing lesse: what with any such cattle. I think him in the weeping, sighing, sorrowing, honing, com- right: Hæc sunt majora gravitate Heracliti. plaining, kinsmen, friends, relatives, four- These follies are enough to give crying Heratieth cousins, poor relatives, lamenting for clitus a fit of the spleene. MR. H A FARCE, IN TWO ACTS. AS IT WAS PERFORMED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE, DECEMBER, 1806. "Mr. H, thou wert DAMNED. Bright shone the morning on the play-bills that announced thy appearance, and the streets were filled with the buzz of persons asking one another if they would go to see Mr. Hand answering that they would certainly; but before night the gaiety, not of the author, but of his friends and the town, was eclipsed, for thou wert DAMNED! Hadst thou been anonymous, thou haply mightst have lived. But thou didst come to an untimely end for thy tricks, and for want of a better name to pass them off- "Theatrical Examiner. If we have sinn'd in paring down a name, To such a very pressing Consonant? Of Deary, Spouse, and that old-fashion'd race; O should this mincing fashion ever spread A single C. her Cæsar to express Her Scipio shrunk into a Roman S And, nick'd and dock'd to these new modes of speech, Great Hannibal himself a Mr. H PP MR. H A FARCE, IN TWO ACTS. ACT I. SCENE. A Public Room in an Inn. Landlord, Waiters, Gentlemen, &c. Enter MR. H. Mr. H. Landlord, has the man brought home my boots? Landlord. Yes, Sir. Mr. H. You have paid him? Landlord. There is the receipt, Sir, only not quite filled up, no name, only blank"Blank, Dr. to Zekiel Spanish for one pair of best hessians." Now, Sir, he wishes to know what name he shall put in, who he shall say "Dr." Mr. H. Why, Mr. H. to be sure. Landlord. So I told him, Sir; but Zekiel has some qualms about it. He says he thinks that Mr. H. only would not stand good in law. Mr. H. Rot his impertinence! Bid him put in Nebuchadnezzar, and not trouble me with his scruples. Landlord. I shall, Sir. putting it in. This is one of the plaguy comforts of going anonymous. [Exit 2d Waiter. Enter 3d Waiter. 3d Waiter. Two letters for Mr. H. [Exit. Mr. H. From ladies (opens them). This from Melesinda, to remind me of the morning call I promised; the pretty creature posi- | tively languishes to be made Mrs. H. I believe I must indulge her (affectedly). This from her cousin, to bespeak me to some party, I suppose (opening it).—Oh, “this evening "-"Tea and cards" - (surveying himself with complacency). Dear H., thou art certainly a pretty fellow. I wonder what makes thee such a favourite among the ladies: I wish it may not be owing to the concealment of thy unfortunate pshaw ! Enter 4th Waiter. 4th Waiter. Sir, one Mr. Printagain is inquiring for you. Mr. H. Oh, I remember, the poet; he is [Exit. publishing by subscription. Give him a guinea, and tell him he may put me down. 4th Waiter. What name shall I tell him, Enter a Waiter. Waiter. Sir, Squire Level's man is below, with a hare and a brace of pheasants for Mr. H. Mr. H. Give the man half-a-crown, and bid him return my best respects to his master. Presents, it seems, will find me out, with any name or no name. Enter 2d Waiter. 2d Waiter. Sir, the man that makes up Directory is at the door. the Mr. H. Oh, poor fellow, who could put it into his head? Now I shall be teased by Mr. H. Give him a shilling; that is what all his tribe, when once this is known. Well, these fellows come for. tell him I am glad I could be of any service to him, and send him away. 2d Waiter. He has sent up to know by what name your Honour will please to be inserted. Mr. H. Zounds, fellow, I give him a shilling for leaving out my name, not for 5th Waiter. Yes, Sir. Mr. H. Me, me, me; who else, to be sure? 5th Waiter. Yes, Sir; but he is anxious to know the name of his benefactor. Mr. H. Here is a pampered rogue of a beggar, that cannot be obliged to a gentleman in the way of his profession, but he must know the name, birth, parentage and education of his benefactor! I warrant you, next he will require a certificate of one's good behaviour, and a magistrate's licence in name?—The man with the great nose on one's pocket, lawfully empowering so and SCENE in the Street. MR. H. walking, BELVIL so to give an alms. Any thing more? 5th Waiter. Yes, Sir; here has been Mr. Patriot, with the county petition to sign; and Mr. Failtime, that owes so much money, has sent to remind you of your promise to bail him. Mr. H. Neither of which I can do, while I have no name. Here is more of the plaguy comforts of going anonymous, that one can neither serve one's friend nor one's country. Damn it, a man had better be without a nose, than without a name. I will not live long in this mutilated, dismembered state; I will to Melesinda this instant, and try to forget these vexations. Melesinda! there is music in the name; but then, hang it! there is none in mine to answer to it. [Exit. (While MR. H. has been speaking, two Gentlemen have been observing him curiously.) 1st Gent. Who the devil is this extraordinary personage? 2d Gent. Who? Why 'tis Mr. H. 1st Gent. Has he no more name? 2d Gent. None that has yet transpired. No more! why that single letter has been enough to inflame the imaginations of all the ladies in Bath. He has been here but a fortnight, and is already received into all the first families. meeting him. Belvil. My old Jamaica schoolfellow, that I have not seen for so many years? it must it can be no other than Jack (going up to him). My dear Ho Mr. H. (Stopping his mouth). Ho! the devil, hush. Belvil. Why sure it is— Mr. H. It is, it is your old friend Jack, Mr. H. (Stopping him). Don't name it. Mr. H. My curst unfortunate name. I Belvil. Snapp'd up a ward, peradventure, and the whole Chancery at your heels? Mr. H. I don't use to travel with such cumbersome luggage. Belvil. You ha'n't taken a purse? Mr. H. To relieve you at once from all disgraceful conjecture, you must know, 'tis nothing but the sound of my name. Belvil. Ridiculous! 'tis true yours is none of the most romantic; but what can that signify in a man? Mr. H. You must understand that I am in 1st Gent. Wonderful! yet, nobody know some credit with the ladies. who he is, or where he comes from! 2d Gent. He is vastly rich, gives away money as if he had infinity; dresses well, as you see; and for address, the mothers are all dying for fear the daughters should get him; and for the daughters, he may command them as absolutely as-————, Melesinda, the rich heiress, 'tis thought, will carry him. 1st Gent. And is it possible that a mere anonymous. 2d Gent. Phoo! that is the charm.-Who is he? and what is he? and what is his Belvil. With the ladies! Mr. H. And truly I think not without some pretensions. My fortune— Belvil. Sufficiently splendid, if I may judge from your appearance. Mr. H. My figure— Belvil. Airy, gay, and imposing. Belvil. Bright. Mr. H. My conversation Belvil. Equally remote from flippancy and taciturnity. |