SCENE I.

BLESS me Mr. Sidney, why you are early up: What takes you out so soon; the clock has but this moment struck six.

Why I am to meet that dam'd puppy Harcourt. I believe he has courage; but I'm determined to conduct in such a manner, as to prevent any attack.

That is easily done: I'll send a note to Worthy: You protract the meeting 'till you think Worthy is near the ground; and the matter is up.

We must have an eye to appear­ances, or the finesse will take air.

Your address will secure you.

But where is Dupe, he has pro­mised to stand by me. Debauchee must go too; he is a tried friend.

SCENE II.

Good morning Doctor.

Good morning, good morning, Sir, how do you do—what news.

News with a vengeance, faith— Sidney and Harcourt have had a tilting bout this morning: and poor Mrs. Sidney is in the hor­rors, through fear, that it may become a serious matter: Not that I think there is the least dan­ger of that; for tho' Harcourt is a brave fellow, Sidney will find avenues enough to escape thro'.

That is very true; but I am anxious to hear how it terminates. Suppose we call on Mrs. Sidney. Pray, did you hear who he took with him.

Dupe and Debauchee were his es­corts. I heard of it by accident; and flew im­mediately to condole with Mrs. Sidney. I found her more calm than I expected. She mentioned the ground on which she founded her hopes— From thence I drew the conclusion I mentioned.

And a very rational one: the gentlemen of the law have advantages superior to their neighbours. There is Argue, for in­stance; why there is no speaking a word for him in the house. But I am determined to op­pose him with all my power.

SCENE III.

Well Tipsy, how are you all: how is Mrs. Sidney.

How—how are we—all in confu­sion. The very de—devil's to pay—and—and my head 's turn'd—Don't you see how I talk. all 's in gumbustion—I can't do any thing, I'm in such trouble.

Why, what now, any thing new.

No, but its—I—I shall come too presently—but—here's Debushe—he—he'll tell you.

Ah—Missy Marta.—Here is terribe tings —did you eber see de like—My massa and I went to fite.

What—say—what do you mean.

Ah! dat is—we didn't fite—Twixt you and I massa he no courage. Misser Har­cort he say—shentlemen preas to measur; and my massa say—shentlemen you no de law.

Well, if they do—out, he does. For I say, he has la—lawd us all out of our senses, I think.

Do hold your tongue, Tipsy, I want to hear.

Well and so we didn't do any ting— and so he was beat, I tink, and den we come home.

Such devilish work, I don't believe was ever seen before. I wish they were all safe in heaven; turning every body's head topsy tur­vy, with their deviltry. I wish to the Lord Ophe­lia's ghost would come and scare them all to death.

Do you tink it will.

Yes: and you black son of satan, will be sent neck and heels to the lowest pit of mise­ry; and your master too, for his deceit and du­plicity. He with his intriges has made me commit more sin than I can ever answer for— and if he is the guilty man, I hope he will be brought out.

Ah—and so—and so do I. And it will be soon; for he owes me; and I can't get my money; and if he can't pay me, he can't bribe any more.

Well I know he never brib'd me.—I knew nothing; and what I did know, I declar­ed. Why Tipsy you are asleep.

No—no—I an't.

And he made me clare more than what I know, for he made me clare I know what an oaf was.

He—he—says its a parcel of words put together, to—to I forgot what—I can't talk as he does, for he talks high flow'd.

Well; If Mrs. Sidney had softened matters a little with her mother, things would never have come to this; but she has acted in this affair as she does in all others, making the world believe she was an angel, when at the same time, her heart was foreign to every virtuous action.—Do you remember Tipsy the piece of potry there was in the newspapers.

Ah, that I do, and I'll peat it.

No, no, let me; you an't fit Tipsy.

Yes, yes; I am fit; I tell you I've been fected with the fate of the famly—

Hold, hold, I tell you.

Come Martha, do you try.

Comin masser—Lordy what fine ora­tion I lost.

Why its potry.

I have forgot the other part of it— But Lord, what will be done; they have wore me to death among them▪

I must cook my dinner.

What, at four o'clock.

Yes—why we don't go to market till three.

O, mighty—such doings—this is liv­ing—I'll go into the parlour, and see Mrs. Sidney.

You better not, for she—she has got Comfort with her now—and there—therefore your company will be unwelcome.

Ah, who is it?

O the Quaker, to be sure.

Then she is happy—But how comes it about that Mr Sidney will have that black dog Deb. with him in all his frolics.

I don't know—Why he was Mr. Sid­ney's second; and I'll tell you as how too—If Mr. Harcourt had shut Mr. Sidney's brains out, I—I take it Deb. would have shut out Mr. Har­court's.

O, Lord—O, Lord—shuch work—poor masser I pity him—He is swaring and taring, and says dam you madam to my misse, you are calm—and dare is, he says, a Nobel coming out nes week, cal'd the Trumpets of Nature, and [Page 10] he be dam'd if he don't blow ebery body's brains out.

I think he had better blow his own brains out.

And he says its a scrilous piece; and he will fascinate de man in de dark, and be de deth of him; and he says, dem dam'd puppys Tedy and Firm, de printers, have put a grat in de pa­pers; and so we shall see it nes week.

Well, every thing is beyond account, Ophelia, poor soul, has made bustle enough in the great world; there is nothing but duels, and novels, and such like nonsense.

You say, Deb. its the Trumpets of Na­tur.

Yes, or de Scrimtons—I forgot wich; but I mus go to Mr. Positive, for my masser want him.

O, when I look round this house, and see the change in this family, I am amazed—and pity Sidney, tho I withhold my reasons.

For why, my dear.

Because I have reasons—But I must see Mrs. Sidney.

SCENE IV.

Mr. Positive, well met; I have been in pursuit of you▪

So I hear. Debauchee informed me there was warm work at home, and that Sidney wanted to see me.

Yes, there is work enough cut out for him, and with all his faults I pity him—He must be more than man to sustain such a compli­cated load of misfortunes.

And those dam'd scoundrels Steady and Firm, are printing a Novel, that will brand him a villain centuries to come.—It must not be, Sir; some measures must be adopted to suppress the publication, and that immediately—I hear it is to come out next week.

That's the very thing I wanted to talk to you about; Sidney is impatient to see you; money must be raised to suppress it—but with­out his Satannick Majesty should condescend to lend us a trifle, I believe we shall fall short there

You was with Sidney in the mall, I am told; how was it; I have not been able to come at the truth.

I was present; but you must not ex­pect information from me; as I disliked the manoeuvres, I must beg to be silent on the subject.

SCENE V.

—This will do, by Heavens; this is glori­ous news; a royal subject for defamation; What a capital opportunity I shall have to gratify the idly curious—to spread dissention and discord— draw a tear from the eye of sensibility—or raise a blush of indignation on the cheek of candour; For tho my friend enjoined the strictest secrecy, and has informed me if the affair should transpire, an amiable family would be involved in irre­trievable misery and disgrace, yet I can never [Page 12] conquer my propensity to scandal so far, as to conceal it intirely, I can throw out a few in­sinuations—give a significant shrug or two, and the infection will fly like wild fire; I am im­patient to get out.

What news Debauchee? your looks are interesting.

Yes, Sir, me be in a great flury; my masser is in shuch a passion, dat I run very hard to fine you, Sir, for I tink, may be, you will be able to pease him.

Why, what's the matter, I can't con­ceive; what has raised such a breeze now; don't you know Debauchee, you was in his confidence; you have been serviceable to him How is it with the disguises, the cakes, the milk, and some other matters—you understand me Debauchee.

Yes, Sir, I stand you; but masser made me take an oaf; I don't know what that is; masser say "me don't know any ting;" now so I forget all bout it; but I hope, Sir, you will go to our house; masser want to see you bery much.

Directly, but ca'nt you give me a hint what's the matter.

Yes, Sir, masser and me went and fite dis morning.

Your master and you fight, that's sur­prising indeed.

No, Sir, you don't stand me, misser Harcoat and my masser fite; I went to stand by him, long masser Dupe; I shoud fite if masser wod begin; but masser wont do noting; so misser Harcoat went away; but dat an't all, masser want to see you, for Mr. Tedy and Fum has got a book, and dey going to publick it— [Page 13] and masser want you to help press it—I tink he say.

Suppress it you mean, honest Debau­chee; this is news indeed; I will be with him in two minutes.

SCENE I.

Mr. Impartialist, good morning; I am fortunate in finding you at home; I wish to consult you upon a damn'd scurrilous Perform­ance, that I hear is now in the booksellers hands; I would fain suppress it, if possible; I have been to the Printers, and have given them a damn'd warm dose; but for fear it should not take ef­fect, I wish to solicit your assistance, in tracing the author of this infernal book, and try what can be done with him; for by my maker I swear, some of us must die; I cannot support it Sir; only think of my situation; a family and con­nections that are dear to me; carry your ideas a little farther, and behold my son reading a book, where his father is branded with the op­probrious epithet of villain—Horrour is in the thought—'tis more than man can bear—the cord is already stretched to its utmost limits—'twill soon break—and some victim must bleed, to ex­piate the crime.

Well, Sir, I am willing to give you all [Page 14] the assistance in my power; though I don't see any probability of suppressing the publication. Is there any person in particular that you suspect for the author?

Yes, Sir, *****—I suspect him to be the author, but wish to be convinced before I proceed to extremities; You can have no ade­quate conceptions, Sir, of my sufferings; I am witheld, by extreme delicacy, from investigating the whole affair, and proving my innocence; the world believes the young lady in question to have been as pure as an angel; but their opin­ions are most egregiously erroneous—How­ever, I shall wait until your return, before I make up my mind upon this cursed business.

SCENE II.

Mr. Worthy, I hope I see you well.

Very well Sir; no bad news I hope has procured me the honor of a visit.

No, Sir, the affair seems to rest where you left it. I did myself the honor to call on you, to satisfy myself of some circumstances that took place this morning. There appeared some ambiguity in your traceing us. May I ask if your interference was solicited?

You may ask [smiling significantly] but I presume you are not ignorant, that it is not my office to betray a trust reposed in me, if that was the case.

True, Sir, I only wished to know for my own private satisfaction, as I concluded ma­ [...] had no hand in transporting you to the spot [...] for action.

I shall ever esteem myself happy in having it in my power to prevent the effusion of human blood; and I think Sidney's family and connections must be so completely miserable, that it would be the utmost stretch of inhumanity to augment it.

I think so too; and I exhausted all my rhetoric to divert Harcourt from the attempt; but it was in vain—for tho he is as worthy a fellow as wears the King of England's livery, his passions are too quick to be controuled by reason at all times; and in this case you may suppose he felt himself keenly injured.

Undoubtedly; but admitting the whole catalogue of crimes alledged to Sidney to be true, Harcourt, nor the family, in my opinion, can­not inflict a worse punishment on the wretched Sidney than his own reflections.

Well Sir, I have an appointment, and must take my leave. I know an apology is necessary for the motive of this visit—but your candor will speak one for me, or fame is not just in the encomiums she pays you.

Whatever may be the motive, I shall always be happy to see you: Mr. Friendly's established character will ever secure him a wel­come.

SCENE III.

Tipsy—Tipsy—where be you—pray give me som ting to eat, for I'm most tarv'd— [Page 16] run about al day—cal misser Postiv—cal misser Peep—cal dis one—cal todder one—I hope if masser go for to cisnate de printer to night, he wont call me, for I most dead now.

Well you ought to have some trouble: you have half the honor—Who have you been for now.

I ben for misser Peep; but he cant com now, he met shuch a luck littel vile ago; I laf til I cry; you member de time he went to peep in foks windows, and fall down in de sellar in de tub of shuds; jus so he look to day; he saucy to one man dribing his sled, misser Peep run again him sled, and damnd de man; de man dam him; by and by he saucy; de man put him down de gutter; poor misser Peep shulk heself, and now gorn home to get clene tocking, for he cant get any sasfactshon.

I am glad of it with all my soul, for he is always poking his nose in every body's house, where they will let him tell lies, and talk about people; for my part, I hate the sight of him; but you did'nt tell me the story about his falling down cellar; I heard of it then, but never heard the petiklers.

Why de maid was geting soper, she had her hed up de gimny gorner—she heard a deble of a noise—som ting com splash down in de tub of suds; she hollow and run—de folks come, and dare dey find misser Peep—He say he com too close de cellar dor, so fall down, but somebody see him all de time he shulk his self; de folks good to him for all dat; dey give him some vinnegar and paper to dress his broken shins.

Hold your tongue; somebody calls.

SCENE IV.

Have you waited for me, my dear.

Waited, yes; I have waited till I am faint for my breakfast; but it is nothing new, you always serve me so, when I am impa­tient to get things cleared away, that I may see after my family; for somebody must see to it, or we shall have nothing to eat; but that is the least of your concern; if you are fed no matter who finds it.

Why what a touse you make about nothing; I only stept in to neighbour Whitmore's to hear if he brought any news from town last night; and I am glad I went, notwithstanding the clamor you make about it; and I am a good mind not tell you, since you have made such a fuss, tho I know you would give your ears to hear it, because it relates to your friend Sidney.

He my friend; yes, my friend­ship for him is so great, that I don't care how soon he is hang'd, to keep him out of mischief. I am sure my family have lost thousands by his chicanery. But what do they say of him; they can't say any good of him, for if he ever did any thing that was praise-worthy, it was so long since, that he has forgot it.

Why, they say Harcourt has called him to an account for some of the most notorious parts of his conduct.

Bless me, then they have fought a duel; well, that's good; I hope he had his head shot off.

Not so quick, my dear, Sidney was too artful for him; he planned matters so well, that Worthy interposed his authority and parted them. I am glad I was not in the way. I should like to know which party gains the most applause; and to tell you the truth, I am sorry I assisted him in any of his manoeuvres.

If you had taken my advice, you would have saved yourself a great deal of trou­ble that you have had on his account; there was the jaunt you took of five and twenty miles, in a snow storm, set out at midnight too, to bring a poor infant, new-born from its mother—Hea­vens defend us from such fathers—monsters in human shape; but it seems gratitude was your motive; he had screened you from the punishment which some of your libidinous conduct richly merited, and you undertook to return the obli­gation in the same style.

Heavens! what a blast! I'll hear no more of it this time, however.

SCENE V.

Great heaven, what will come next; sure Pandora's box has been empted on my devoted head; turn which way I will, I am wretched.

My dear Mrs. Sidney; what alone— I expected to find Mr. Sidney here; you have seen him, I hope, since the morning.

Yes, he has been in, and I [Page 19] find the affair has ended better than I expected; but now he is in a violent passion about a Novel, that Steady and Firm have printed, and he is said to be the principal character in the Drama—he says he will suppress the publication if possible; for my own part, I am less solicitous about that, than I was about the duel: To have had my bro­ther, or my husband fallen by the sword of the other would have been insupportable.

Make yourself easy, madam, you have nothing to fear from that quarter; Mr. Sidney understands himself too well to trifle away his existence.

It would be the part of a madman, not to set the highest value on life, when he has so fine a woman to enjoy it with.

Mrs. Sidney, and gentlemen, your most obedient—Pray, madam, is Mr. Sidney within, I understand he wants to see me.

He is very earnest to see you, and will be here in a few minutes.

There never was a poor devil so harrass'd since the flood, as I am: How do you do gentlemen, I am glad to see you, though I hardly know where I am. Positive, you must set off for Plant­ing Grove to morrow morning, to see what can be done with the head of this dam'd company; by Heavens, if I can find out the author, I'll blow his brains out.

You had better let it alone, I [Page 20] think, you will only render yourself more con­spicuously infamous.

You have no feelings madam— thus calmly to support such misery and wretch­edness.

Mr. Sidney, I hope you will forgive my not coming sooner, I assure you I have met with ill luck; a scoundrel of a truck man plumpt me into the gutter, because I happened to stand in his way.

Why Peep, you meet with trouble, 'tis not long since you had a ducking in a tub of suds.

Oh, that's an old story; but I would advise you, Mr. Peep, to take more care next time you attempt to look into people's windows.

And my young friend, look well about you, when next you borrow, unsolicited, from your neighbour at the Franklin's head— the story of the black negro won't do.

Upon my word gentlemen, you are quite merry at my expence—I little thought of pleasantry in this place, at this particular mo­ment—Debauchee informed me that Mr. Sidney was very unhappy, and I came to offer my ser­vices; if there is any thing that I can do, I hope Mr. Sidney will command me.

I am much obliged to you, Sir, I shall have business for all my friends at this rate;— But Positive, you have not told me whether you will go.

You could not doubt my readiness to go, Sir; and I will bring them to terms, or lose my arm in the attempt.

Take Dupe with you, my friend, you will find him very serviceable.

What time shall we go; to night or in the morning.

'Tis too late now; you must get away by ten to-morrow, and exert yourselves, my friends; try what you can do for me, for by heavens, if this publication comes out, I shall go distracted: Don't you think the scoundrels had the assurance to tell me, with the most provoking calmness, that when the books were ready, I should have a set as soon as any gentleman in town.— Damn their impudence

You may depend on my exertions: Dupe, you will be ready, I hope.

Certainly—as soon as you please.

Madam your most obedient—gentle­men your humble servant.

I would advice you Mr. Sidney, not to take any more notice of the affair; the best of us, don't escape the lash; you may talk to all eternity, and it will not alter the opinions of people, already prejudiced against you.

I am surprised, Dr. to hear you so warm­ly recommend taciturnity, that practice it so lit­tle when insulted.

I conceive a wide difference in passing by a personal attack, or one levelled at the community at large—the [...] it is impossible for a man to be silent, who has the good of his country [...] men initiated into power, [...] are unquestionably [...] [Page 22] purposes for which we are honoured with the suffrages of our grateful countrymen.

But there are some persons you never will concur with, let them propose what they will.

Then let the persons you allude to, solicit my concurrence, when they want it, or I never will hold up my hand for them, let the consequences be what they may.

Mr. Sidney, you have not told us of yesterdays adventure; I was exceedingly alarm­ed when I heard Harcourt had called you out: and though I knew you had it in your power to extricate yourself if you thought proper; yet I was fearful Harcourt's impetuosity would throw you off your guard.

He is an enterprising youth, I have heard, and don't want spirit; I wonder how you managed to keep him at a proper distance.

O, admirably; he found I was deter­mined to stand only on the defensive; had he attacked me in that situation, he knew the consequences.

Well gentlemen; shall we call another subject; we have been out of tune some time; let us banish such disagreeable topicks; and en­deavour to harmonize each other, by more sprightly notes,—Where is the little one, I have not seen it to day.

Tell Tipsy to bring the child in.

Give it to me Tipsy—Come here you pretty creature—Why its a fine child as ever I saw, and very handsome too.

I do—dont wonder you—you think so, Sir, for it looks for all the world like you— It has got—it has got a—a—a nose—a mouth just like yours, as two peas—and sweet eyes, and red face—its the image of you.

What's the matter with the crea­ture; how she talks.

Drunk as the devil—Send her off.

I have business, gentlemen, to attend to, and shall leave you for the present. I congratulate you Madam, that your fears are hush'd in peace for this time.

I thank you Sir, I wish all my fears where as happily subsided, as the one you allude to.

Mr. Sidney, if there is any thing in my power that I can assist you in, let me know—you will find me ready to serve you.

I don't doubt it Sir, and I shall trouble you enough, I dare say, and all my friends; but I cannot determine on any thing, till I hear from Planting Grove.

Well, command me when you want— You know where to find me, and will find me ever ready and willing to befriend you—I wish you both a very good night.