The Fine Lady's Airs (1709) Part 2

Sir _Har_. Mend your Manners, Sirrah; or you shall serve the Queen.

_Shr_. Ev'ry Man ought to mend his Manners, Sir, that pretends to a Place at Court; but the Queen's mightily oblig'd to some People.--Has a Gentleman an impudent rakish Footman, not meaning my self, Sir, that wears his Linen, fingers his Money, and lies with his Mistress;--You Dog, you shall serve the Queen.--Has a Tradesman a Fop Prentice, that airs out his Horses, and heats his Wife, or an old Puritan a graceless Son, that runs to the Play-House instead of the Meeting, they are threathen'd with the Queen's Service; so that Her Majesty's good Subjects, drink her Health, wish success to her Arms, and send her all the Scoundrels i'the Nation.

Sir _Har_. Fellows that han't sense to value a Civil Employment are necessary to front an Army, whose thick Sculls may repulse the first Fury of the Enemy's Cannon Bullets.

_Shr_. I hope, then, the _English_ are so wise to let the _Dutch_ march foremost.--But why, Sir, shou'd you Gentlemen ingross all the Pleasures o'Life, and not allow us poor Dogs to imitate you in our own Sphere;--You wear lac'd Coats; We lac'd Liv'ries;--You play at Picquet; We at All-Fours;--You get drunk with Burgundy; We with Geneva;--You pinck Holes with your Swords; We crack Sculls with our Sticks;--You are Gentlemen; We are hang'd.

Sir _Har_. A fine Relation; but, methinks, the latter Part of it might deter you from such Courses.

_Shr_. I'm a Predestinarian, Sir; which is an Argument of a great Soul, and will no more baulk a drunken Frolick, than I would a pretty Lady that takes a Fancy to me.

Sir _Har_. No more of your Impertinence; attend, I hear Company (Shrimp _goes to the Door_) Brigadier _Blenheim_ return'd from the Army!

_Enter_ Collonel, _and_ Knapsack.

Sir _Har_. My n.o.blest, dearest Collonel, let me imbrace you as a _Britain_, and as a Friend. _Ajax_ ne'er boasted _English_ Valour; _Ulysses_ ne'er such Conduct; nor _Alexander_ such Successes. The Queen rejoices; the Parliament vote you Thanks; and ev'ry honest Loyal Heart bounds at our General's Name.

_Col_. Ay, Sir _Harry_, to be thus receiv'd, rewards the Soldier's Toils; and, faith, we have maul'd the fancy _French-men,_ near Twenty Thousand we left fast asleep, taught the remaining few a new Minuet-step, and sent 'em home to sing _Te Deum_.

_Knap_. Ay, Sir, and if they are not satisfied, next Campaign the _English_ shall stand still, and laugh at their Endeavours; the _Dutch_ Sn.i.g.g.e.r-snee 'em; the _Scotch_ Cook them; and the wild _Irish_ eat 'em.

_Col_. Oh! The glorious Din of War; the Energy of a good Cause, and the Emulation of a brave Confederacy.--To sound the Charge; Make a vigorous Attack, the Enemy gives ground,--To pour on fresh Vollies of a sure Destruction, and return deafn'd with shouts o' Victory, and adorn'd with glitt'ring Standards of the vanquish'd Foe.

_Knap_. To hang up in _Westminster-Hall_, and make the Lawyers stare off their Briefs;--But the Harmony of sounding a Retreat,--to hug my self with two Arms, and walk substantially upon both my Pedestals, or the health of Mind in lying sick at _Amsterdam_.

_Col_. Ay, here's a sorry Rascal, that lags always behind, and is afraid to look Death i'the Face.

_Knap_. Why, really, Sir, 'tisn't manners to march before the _Colonel_; and upon a warm Engagement, I have heard you talk musically of good Conduct. Besides, that Mr._ Death_ is but a Hatchet-face Beau, so lean, and wither'd like an old Dutchess, or a Doctor o' Physick, I had as live see the Devil.

Sir _Har_. But when the Lines are forc'd, the Enemy slain, and the Placs loaded with rich Plunder.--

_Knap_. None so nimble, none so valiant, none so expert as your very humble Servant _Nehemiah Knapsack_.

_Col_. But, who are the raigning Beauties o'the Age? What Favours will they grant a Soldier after a hard Campaign, fatiguing Marches, desp'rate Attempts, and narrow Escapes, to preserve them from Rapine, Violence, and Slav'ry, that they may laugh away the Day in gay Diversions, and pa.s.s the silent Night in silver Slumbers on their Downy Beds?

Sir _Har_. Just as many Favours as you have Money or _Mechlin_ Lace to purchase: Women apprehend not the Danger of War, and therefore have no Notion of Grat.i.tude.

_Coll_. Oh! The thoughts of scatt'ring small Shot among the sparkling Tribe, to feast my Senses upon dear Variety, have ev'ry Day a new dazling Beauty, and ev'ry Hour to taste the Joys of Love.

Sir _Har_. Don't fancy, _Collonel_, because you have beat the _French_ you must conquer all the Ladies; there are Women that dare resist you boldly, will exact your Courage beyond attacking a Fortress, and maintain a hotter Engagement.

_Col._ If you mean Women of the Town, some of 'em wou'd give a Man a warm Reception--Yet I long to be traversing the _Park_, ogling at the Play, peeping up at Windows, and ferreting the Warren o' _Covent-Garden_, till I seize on some skittish dapper Doxie, whose pretty black Eyes, dimpling Cheeks, heaving b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and soft Caresses, wou'd melt a Man--for half a Guinea.

_Knap_. How I long too, to wheedle in with some Buxom Widow, that keeps a Victualling-House, to provide me with Meat, Drink, Washing and Lodging--to find out some delicious Chamber-Maid, that will p.a.w.n her best Mohair-Gown, sell even her Silver-Thimble, and rob her Mistress to shew how truly she loves me; or intrigue with some Heroick Sempstress, that will call me her _Artaxerxes_, her _Agamemnon_, and give me six new Shirts.

Sir _Har_. And now the tedious Summer is elaps'd, and Winter ushers in neglected Joys; Armies march home victorious from the Field, Ladies from Parks and Plains that mourn'd their absence; a Croud of Pleasures glut the varying Appet.i.te, and Friends long absent meet with gayest Transports.

_Col_. Ay, Winter is the gay, the happy Season: I hate a Solitary Rural Life, as if one were at variance with the World; to walk with Arms a-cross, admire Nature's Works in Woods and Groves, talk to the Streams, and tell the Trees our Pa.s.sion, while Eccho's make a Mock at all we say-- Give me the shining Town, the glittering Theatres; there Nature best is seen in Beauteous Boxes, where Beaus transported with the Heavenly Sight, the little G.o.d sits pleas'd in ev'ry Eye, and Actors dart new Vigour from the Stage, supported By the Spirit of full Pay--But what great Fortunes buz about the Town; Red-Coats have carry'd off good store of Heiresses, and that's the sure, tho' not the sweetest Game; besides, Sir _Harry_, they talk of Peace, and we that have nothing but the Sword to trust to, ought to provide against that dreadful Day.

_Knap_. Really, Sir, I have had some Thoughts of Marriage too; there's nothing like being settl'd, to have a House of one's own, and Attendants about one; besides, I'm the last Male, of a very ancient Family, and shou'd I die without Children, the _Knap-sacks_ wou'd be quite extinct.

Sir _Har._ The Talk, the Pride, and Envy of the Town is Lady _Rodomont_, whose Wit surprizes, whose Beauty ravishes, and a clear Estate of Six thousand a Year distracts the admiring Train; but the Misfortune is, she has Travell'd, had Experience, well vers'd in Gallantries of various Courts; she admits Coquets, and rallies each Pretender, so resolutely fond of Liberty, she slights the most accomplish'd of Mankind, there _Collonel_ is a Siege to prove a _Roman_ or a _Grecian_ Bravery.

_Col._ A _Roman_ or a _Grecian_, say you, bold _Britains_ laugh at all their baubling Fights; and had _Achilles_, with his batt'ring Rams, felt half the Fury of an _English_ General, _Troy_ had ne'er bully'd out a Ten Years Siege--but Ladies are more craftily subdu'd; you mustn't storm a Nymph with Sword and Pistol, pursue her as you wou'd a tatter'd _Frenchman_, push her Attendants into the _Danube_, then seize her, and clap her into a Coach--I'll baffle her at her own Argument, swear I'd not wed a _Phoenix_ of her s.e.x, and laugh at Dress and Beauty, Wit and Fortune, when purchas'd only at the Price of Liberty--then sweeten her again with ogling Smiles, look Babies in her Eyes, and vow she's handsome; and when she thinks each artful Glance has caught me, that now's the time to Conquer, and to Laugh, and with malicious Cunning mentions Marriage, I'll start, and change, and beg her not to name it, for 'tis a Thought that rouses Madness in me, 'till out of Spight and Spleen, and Woman's Curiosity, the Knot's abruptly ty'd, to prove my feign'd Resolves, and boast her Power.

Sir _Har._ Tis well design'd, and may the Soldier animate the Lover: For my part, I'm so devoted to my Pleasures, and so strangely bigotted to a single Life, I have sold an Estate of Two thousand a Year, to buy an Annuity of Four: I love to Rake and Rattle thro' the Town, and each Amus.e.m.e.nt, as it happens, pleases. The Ladies call me Mad Sir _Harry_, a Careless, Affable, Obliging Fellow, whom, when they want, they send for. I wear good Cloaths to 'Squire'em up and down; have Wit enough to Chat, and make'em Giggle, and Sense enough to keep their Favours secret--But from Romantick Love, Good Heav'n defend me. A Moment's Joy's not worth an Age's Courtship; and when the Nymph's Demure, and Dull and Shy, and Foolish and Freakish, and Fickle, there are Billiards at the _Smyrna_, Bowles at _Marybone_, and Dice at the _Groom-Porter_'s--Are you for the Noon-Park.

_Col._ With all my Heart.

Sir _Har._ There the _Beau-Monde_ appear in all their Splendour--Here, _Shrimp_, [_Enters._] entertain the _Collonel_'s Servant--An Hour hence you'll hear of us at _White_'s. [_Exeunt._

_Shr._ Mr. _Knapsack_, are you for a Dish of _Bohee_: My Master has been just drinking, and the Water boils-- [_Goes out, and returns with a Tea-Table._

_Knap._ Not to incommode you about it, Mr. _Shrimp_.

_Shr._ Well, Mr. _Knapsack_, we brave _Britains_ conquer all before us: Why you have done Wonders this Campaign.

_Knap._ Ay, Mr. _Shrimp_, the Name of an _English_ General Thunder-strikes the _French_, as much as it invigorates the Allies; for when he comes, he cuts you off Ten or Twenty thousand, with the same Ease as a Countryman wou'd mow down an Acre of Corn; tho', after all, I was in some pain for our Forces, not being able to do 'em any personal Service; for you must know, Mr. _Shrimp_, I am mightily subject to Convulsions, and just before ev'ry Engagement I was unluckily seiz'd with so violent a Fit, they were forc'd to carry me back to the next wall'd Town.

_Shr._ Are you for much Sugar in your Tea, Sir?

_Knap._ As much as you please, Sir.

_Shr._ Have you made many Campaigns, Mr. _Knapsack_?

_Knap._ This was the first, Mr. _Shrimp_, and I'm not positive that I shall ever make another; for next Summer, I believe, some Business of moment will confine me to this Kingdom--Pray, Mr. _Shrimp_, why don't you exert your self in the Service; the Gentlemen of the Army wou'd be glad of so sprightly an Officer as you among 'em.

_Shr._ O dear, Mr. _Knapsack_, I'm of so unfortunate a Stature, they'd trample me under their Feet; besides, I have no Genius to Fighting; I cou'd like a Commission in a Beau-Regiment, that always stays at home, because a Scarlet-Lac'd-Suit, a Sash and Feather command Respect, keep off Creditors, and make the Ladies fly into our Arms.

_Knap._ Ay, Mr. _Shrimp_, I don't doubt but you have good store of Mistresses. Why you look a little thin upon the matter, ha!

_Shr._ No, no, Mr. _Knapsack_, I'm as moderate at that Sport, as any Man; I must own, when a pretty Lady comes betimes in a Morning to my Master, and he, poor Gentleman, is in a dead Sleep with hard Drinking, I do now and then take her into the next Room, play the Fool with her a little till my Master wakes, then give her a Dram of Surfeit-Water, and put her to Bed to him, now there's Safety in such an Amour, for my Master hasn't his Mistresses from a profess'd Baud; I have found him out a conscientious old Gentlewoman, that's one of the sober Party, and acquainted with most Citizens Daughters, that have as much Inclination to turn Wh.o.r.es as a Chamber-Maid out of Place, and the old Lady is so pa.s.sionately fond of my Master, because he was once so charitable to do her the Favour, she sends him the choicest of all her Ware--but to pick up a dirty Drab in the Eighteen-penny-Gallery, with a rusty black Top-knot, a little Flower in her Hair, a turn'd Smock, and no Stockings, the Jade wou'd poyson you like Eighteen-penny-Wine.

_Knap._ I find, Mr. _Shrimp_, you Gentlemens Gentlemen have all your Cues.

_Shr._ Ah! Mr. _Knapsack_, there's more goes to the finishing of a true Valet, than tying a Wig smartly, or answering a Dun genteely. I have sometimes such weighty Matters warring in my Brains, and a greater Conflict with my self how I shall manage 'em, than a Merchant's Cash-keeper, that's run away with two thousand Pounds, and can't resolve whether he shall trust the Government with it, or put it into the _East India_ Company--I only wish it were my Fate to serve some Statesman in Business; for Pimping often tosses a Man into a Place of three hundred a Year, when Mony shall be refus'd, Merit repuls'd, and Relations thought impudent for pretending to't.--But, I believe, Mr. _Knapsack_, our Hour's elaps'd, for tho' our Masters may n't want us, we that are at Board-wages love to smell out where they dine.

_Knap._ The Motion, Mr. _Shrimp_, is admirable, for really the Tea begins to rake my Guts confoundedly. [_Exeunt._

SCENE _Changes to Lady_ Rodomont's.

_Enter Lady_ Rodomont, _and Mrs._ Lovejoy, _follow'd by a Servant._

_Ser._ Madam, the Mercer, the Manto-Maker, the Sempstress, the India-Woman, and the Toy-Man attend your Ladiship without.

L. _Rod._ Admit 'em,--this Grandeur, Cozen, which those o' Quality a.s.sume above the Populace, to have obsequious Mechanicks wait our Levee in a Morning, is not disagreeable; then they are as constant as our Menials, and the less Mony one pays 'em, the more constantly they attend.