The man with two wives: or, wigs for ever! A dramatick fable; by F. G. Waldron. Set to musick by Mr. Sanderson. And first performed at the Royalty Theatre, Saturday, March 24th. 1798. Waldron, F. G. (Francis Godolphin), 1744-1818. 13 600dpi bitonal TIFF page images and SGML/XML encoded text University of Michigan Library Ann Arbor, Michigan 2011 June 004810283 T8577 CW116990784 K024207.000 CW3316990784 ECLL 1192700100

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The man with two wives: or, wigs for ever! A dramatick fable; by F. G. Waldron. Set to musick by Mr. Sanderson. And first performed at the Royalty Theatre, Saturday, March 24th. 1798. Waldron, F. G. (Francis Godolphin), 1744-1818. 14,[2]p. ; 8⁰. printed for the author, and sold by him; at the Royalty Theatre; and by H. D. Symonds, London : 1798. Verse. With a final leaf containing a note. Reproduction of original from the British Library. English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT8577. Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).

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eng

THE MAN WITH TWO WIVES; Or, WIGS FOR EVER! A DRAMATICK FABLE; BY F. G. WALDRON.

SET TO MUSICK BY MR. SANDERSON.

AND FIRST PERFORMED AT THE ROYALTY THEATRE, SATURDAY, MARCH 24th. 1798.

Love in theſe labyrinths his ſlaves detains, And mighty hearts are held in ſlender chains. With hairy ſpringes we the birds betray, Slight lines of hair ſurprize the finny prey, Fair treſſes man's imperial race inſnare, And beauty draws us with a ſingle hair. POPE'S Rape of the Lock.

LONDON: Printed for the Author, and ſold by him at No. 4, Croſs-Court, Bow-Street, Covent-Garden (where may be had all his other publications); at the Royalty Theatre; and by H. D. Symonds, Paternoſter-Row.

1798.

PRICE SIX-PENCE. Entered at Stationers' Hall.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE. Huſband, Mr. WALLACK. Old Wife, Mrs JEFFERIES, Young Wife, Mrs. HARLOWE.
The Man with Two Wives; Or, Wigs for Ever! A DRAMATICK FABLE. Enter Husband. SONG. Husb. WAS ever man ſo plagued as I! It almoſt makes me ſob and cry; Two wives I have, and can't pleaſe either, With black and grey hairs can pleaſe neither: One wiſhes that my hair were black; Whilſt t'other, but I fear, alack! 'Tis but pretence, prefers the grey: To pleaſe both 'would I knew the way! If I had only one wife, old; Tho' ſhe, perchance, might be a ſcold: My grey hairs could not, ſure, diſpleaſe her; Nor my infirmities much teaze her. Or, had I but one wife, tho' young; And pert, and flippant were her tongue: She, ſurely, would not find, good-lack! Fault with my hairs for being black. Was ever man &c. To pleaſe both 'would I knew the way! Enter Old Wife RECITATIVE Accompanied. Old Wife. Where is my huſband?—mine and Bett's— That he's half her's, oft-times ſorely frets; But I'm his firſt wife, and the elder: Tho' younger Ma'am has Hans in Kelder. Oh! here he is, and now I'll try To make him throw his black hairs by. DUETT. Husb. Ah ha! my old ſpouſy! yet not the leſs dear; How little I thought you to me were ſo near: What news, my dear chuck! from the market or bath? I muſt go there myſelf; I'm as thin as a lath! Old Wife. To the bath you may go, but 'twill do you no good, While that buſh of black hair remains under your hood; For health's ſake let me that deformity crop; You ne'er will be well till that lumber you lop! Husb. Well, do as you pleaſe, my old ſpouſy! pray do! Your will is a law, that I ſtill buckle to. Old Wife. Come into next room then; and, if I have luck, Each black from the grey hairs I'll preſently pluck. Both Come into &c. Huſb. And if you—you'll &c. Exeunt. Enter Young Wife. RECITATIVE ACCOMPANIED. Yg. Wife What can have become of my huſband, I wonder? With his old wife, I gueſs; were he young—lightning! thunder!— How I'd rattle his ears; nay his joints: all his ſenſes! But, ſince of a huſband nought's left but pretences, I'll cheer myſelf ſome way; be it only to teaze him: For who can expect I ſhould e'er wiſh to pleaſe him! Not a grey hair I'll ſuffer upon his old pate, But pluck them all out; or no more be his mate. SONG. What folly, I wonder! induced me to wed A grey-beard, who ſcarcely can crawl to his bed! And I, young, gay, lively, and ſightly! Alas! ſilly I! I almoſt could cry! Sure I merit a huſband more ſprightly! And yet, on reflection, it near makes me laugh; Of him, tho' ſo old, I have only one half: That's, ſure, being ſtinted too tightly! Conceited, dull log! You mere houſehold clog! Two wives are not manag'd ſo lightly! Enter Huſband. SONG. Husb. Well, now I think I look as ſhould Each man that's paſt Life's middle; For, black hairs, ſure, no wiſe man would, That can't dance to a fiddle. Now I and my old ſpouſe well match, For ſhe's grey as a badger; But hold, ſhould young Ma'am now me catch, New pluck'd, how ſhould I fadge her! RECITATIVE ACCOMPANIED. Yg. Wife. Oh, here is the old boy! well, now for ſome fun; My humour I'll follow, thus briſkly begun. Why, goodneſs! what's here? you lately were pye-bald; But, your black hairs are gone; and now you are nigh-bald! Huſh. Dear, young wife, be gentle! I've loſt all my black hairs, I dare not tell how; and now I much lack hairs: Have pity, then, Darling! upon poor old grey; And to him of comfort a word or two ſay. Yg. Wife To comfort my huſband, as ſhould ev'ry wife, I always am ready, each hour of my life; But, ſure, my dear Hubby will do what he can To prove himſelf loving, as though a young man: Conſign theſe grey hairs, then, unto my direction; And, if you'll but, patient, endure the diſſection; In leſs than five minutes, I vow and declare, Upon your ſmooth pate ſhan't be ſeen a grey hair! SONG. With a ſnip of my ſciſſars, Each white hair I'll mow; Or a twitch of my tweezers, No more ſhall they grow: For who would be link'd to a grey-head? As well in the grave one might lay head! Not I, on my life! I'll no longer be wife To one who sepate's cover'd with ſnow; Then quick let me mow it, And no longer ſhow it, It ſhames me wherever I go: Oh, who would be link'd to a grey-head! DUETT. Huſb. What ever you pleaſe, love! ſo you be but happy; I do as ſhe wills, tho' I think I am ſappy. Young Wife. Do juſt as I pleaſe, love! and you will be happy: To thwart a young wife would, you know, be quite ſappy. Both. Do juſt as I pleaſe, love! &c. What ever you pleaſe, love! &c. Exeunt. Enter, at the oppoſite ſide, the Old Wife. SONG. Old Wife. Well, now I'm contented; my huſband and I Look like one another, as pigs in a ſty; His grey hairs and mine now exactly agree, And no more he'll prefer young Eliza to me: Take example, ye old wives, and all of ye pull Each black hair ye my find on your ſpouſe's pied ſcull. A pretty condition before I was in! Why did I not ſooner this practice begin? Our heads the fame liv'ry now properly wear, For on his white cranium there's not a black hair. Take example, ye old wives, and all of ye pull Each black hair ye may find on your ſpouſe's pied ſcull. Enter Huſband and Young Wife. RECITATIVE, Accompanied. Huſb. Oh, dear! oh, dear! how cold's my head! My night-cap fetch, I'll go to bed. Old Wife. Why, how now, huſband! what's the matter? Young Wife. Why, how now, ma'am! why all this clatter? Of all his black hairs you firſt ſtript him; I only of his grey bereft him: So between both, bald, meek, and mild, He proves, "an old man's twice a child!" Huſb. Ceaſe your taunting each at other; Or at me; pray ceaſe this pother! And ſay how I may quick eſcape The ſhame of this my bald-pate rape? AIR. Young Wife. To Britain ſtrait ſend, if you hence would look big, For one of their ſcull-caps, I think, called a wig. Old Wife. To Britain pray ſend, if you hence would look big, For one of their ſcull-caps, ſhe ſays, call'd a wig. Huſb. To Britain I'll ſend, that I hence may look big, For one of their ſcull-caps, I know, call'd a wig. SONG. Huſb The men only wore wigs; but now, with the ladies, I've heard that the beſt of the wig-maker's trade is; The red-hair'd turn black, and the grizzle grow flaxen: The colour they change as they pleaſe of their caxon: All ranks now appear in the new-faſhion'd rig, there; And no female's a beauty, who wears not a wig, there! Then I'll think it no ſhame to conceal my bald pate, dears! With curls that hung over ſome Blouzalind's great ears; Since damſels of fifteen throw off, as they ſcorn'd 'em, The beautiful locks with which Nature adorn'd 'em, And frizzled wigs wear, as in public they daſh on; Pray, why ſhould not old men, too, follow the faſhion? And, ſince in the valley of years I'm declining, At what can't be help'd, in the ſtead of repining, I'll ſport each new whimſy; in pantaloons ſtrut too; To my throat a huge poultice I'll preſently put too: Whilſt, with two ſuch kind wives, if I've any luck, dears! I think, when new wigg'd, I ſhall be quite a buck, dears! FINALE. Old Wife When your hand ſhall be in, my dear huſband, pray ſend For a wig, for me alſo; 'twill ſerve this good end: That I ſhall no more be thought aged, alack! And, inſtead of grey hairs, a wig get me coal-black. Young Wife. Same trouble will ſerve for three wigs as for two; Let me, tho' I want it not, have a wig too: My hair is quite flaxen; to what ſhall it change? Why, a lovely brunette! which will not be ſo ſtrange. Huſb. Agreed, my dear wives! we will all three be wigg'd; And in the new faſhion compleatly ſoon rigg'd: No colour of hair ſhall our union diſſever; And, in harmony, henceforth, we'll ſing Wigs for Ever! CHORUS. No colour of hair ſhall our union diſſever; And, in harmony, henceforth, we'll ſing Wigs for Ever
EPILOGUE-SONG, By Mrs. HARLOWE. The Poet Spenſer ſweetly ſang Of Roſalinda's charms; Her diamond eyes, her ruby lips, Her white and taper arms: When he deſcribed fly Cupid's web, Wove with her golden hair; All other Aethiops ſeem'd to Roſe, She faireſt of the fair! When Shakſpeare drew the maid he lov'd, In ruſtic Phoebe veil'd; Her bugle eye-balls, cheek of cream, Anne Hathaway conceal'd: Arch Cupid's net in her was framed Of gloſſy, black ſilk hair; To him brunette was bright as gold, She faireſt of the fair! But, had they all exiſted now, The males had felt ſad ſhocks, Had Roſalinda's golden curls, Anne Hathaway's black locks, As 'twere by magick, ſudden chang'd; Gold, black!—black, golden hair!— Would they have thought them monſters, or Each faireſt of the fair? Mere monſters, doubtleſs, would have ſeem'd The changelings in their eyes; Nor, black or yellow turn'd the ſkin, Have caus'd more griev'd ſurpriſe! Be warn'd then, females! when you dreſs, Whate'er your toil or care, Forſake not ſtature! ſhe will ſhew You faireſt of the fair! FINIS.

N. B. The Epilogue being too long for performance, the third and fourth ſtanzas were compreſſed into the following one.

But, had they all exiſted now, And Anna's Anna. The reader who has any curioſity about this maiden's chriſtian name, whether Anne or Anna, is referred to Malone's "INQUIRY," 1796, p. 142 ſeq. Chalmers' "APOLOGY," 1797, p. 174 ſeq. and Waldron's "FREE REFLECTIONS", 1796, p. 10. jetty locks With Roſa's golden treſſes chang'd, The men had felt ſad ſhocks! Be warn'd then, females!—when you dreſs, Whate'er your toil or care, Forſake not Nature! ſhe will ſhew You faireſt of the fair!