Imágenes de páginas

As Performed at the Theatres Royal, London.
Drury Lane.


1 S28.

1828. Tangent Mr. Lewis. Mr. Wallack.

Mr. Vining. Toby Allspice Mr. Quick. Mr. Dowton. Mr. Williains. ('apt. Faulkner Mr. Pope. Mr. Cooper.

Mr. Cooper. Caustic

Mr. Munden. Mr. Bennett. Mr. W. Farren. Dick Dashall Mr. Fawcett. Mr. Mude. Mr. W. West. M Query

Mr. M'Cready. Mr. Thompson. Mr. Power. Landlord Mr. Davenport. Mr. Yarnold.

Mr. Coveney. Shopman Mr. Abbott Mr. Hughes. Mr. Bisliop. Town-Clerk Mr. Coombs. Mr. Hope.

Mr. Robb. Waiter

Mr. Curtis. Mr. Eaton. Mr. Moore. Ned

Mr. Wilde. Mr. C. Jones. Mr. C. Morris. Postilion Mr. Simmonds. Mr. J. Brown. Mr. Broadfoot. Undertaker Mr. Street.

Mr. Vining.

Mr. Johnson. Gaoler

Mr. Williamson. Mr. Fenton. Mr. Coates.
Mr. Holland. Mr. Gregory.

Mr. Cooke.

Mr. Blurton. Mr. Jones. Mr. Reynoldson.
Caustic's Ser-
Mr. Farley.

Mr. Brady. Mr. Banks.
Dashall's Ser-
Mr. Ledger.
Mr. J. Smith.

Mr. Ayre.
Bailiff - Mr. Croys. Mr. Miller. Mr. Carter

Mr. Ross.
Julia Faulkner Miss Wallis. Miss E. Tree. Miss F. H. Kelly

Mrs. Mattocks. Mrs Orger Mrs. W. Clifford. Allspice Lady Sorrel Mrs. Davenport. Miss C. Jones. Mrs. Taylenire. Fanny

Miss Leserve, Miss Willmott. Mrs. W. Johnson.


The Conductors of this work print no Plays but those which they have seen acted. The Stage Directions are given from their own personal observations, during the most recent performances.

EXITS and ENTRANCES. R. means Right;

L. Left ; D. F. Door in Flat ; R. D. Right Door ; L. D. Left Door ; S. E. Second Entrance ; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door.

RELATIVE POSITIONS. R. means Right ; L. Left ; C. Centre; R. C. Right of Centre : L. C. Left of Centre. L. RC. C. LC.

L. ** The Reader is supposed to be on the Stage, facing the Audience.



SCENE I.--A Room in a House-- Bells ringing, L. Dashall. [Without, L.) Landlord !

Enter LANDI.ORD, smoaking, R. Lan. Here I am--noisy chap this

Enter DASHALL, L. Das. Where are all your people? Damn it, landlord, is this your attention ?

Lin. Who do you damn, eh? If you don't like my house, march,-there's another in the town.

Das. This rascal now, because he has the best beds and wine on the road, claims the privilege of insulting his guests ---call my servants up.

[Crosses to R. Lan. Not I-enough plague with my own-why don't you go to the other inn?

I'll tell you-'cause you know when you are well off, ha, ha!

Das. Impudent scoundrel ! but, as I want information, I must humour him-You're a high fellow.

Lan. An't I ? Das. And so, old Boar’s Head, my good friend Toby Allspice, by the sudden death of bis predecessor, enters this day upon the tonish office of sheriff of your ancient corporation.

Lan. He does.-And, what's better, by the sudden death of an old maid, Miss Sarah Sapless, he and his daughter will, it is said, enter upon the fingering of about thirty thousand pounds.

Das. Good news, egad! Well, old porcupine, get dinner; and d'ye hear, none of your ropy champaignethe real stuif.

[Slaps him on the back. Lan. Well, I will- Ecod! I like you. Dus. Come, be off. [Strikes him with his whip.

Lan. Ecod ! you have an agreeable way with you. [Crosses to R., and round to L., and exit, shrugging his

shoulders. Das. In the ticklish state of my circumstances, Allspice and his daughter will be worth attending to.

Re-enter LANDLORD, L. Lan. Letters, sir, from London.

[Exit, L. Das. Now for it! this makes me a bankrupt, or a good man. [Reads.] “ Dear Dashall,- All's up." -As I thought.-- Transfer swears, if you don't settle your bear account in a week, he'll black-board you."- Pleasant enough!" Affectionate inquiries are making after you at Lloyd's ; and, to crown all, hops were so lively last mar. ket, that there is already a loss of thousands upon that scheme.-- Nothing can save you but the ready.-Your's, Tim Tick.”—“ N. B. Green peas were yesterday sold at Leadenhall Market, at ninepence a peck ; so your bet of three thousand pounds on that event is lost.” So! lurch'd every way-stocks, insurance, hops, hazard, and green peas, all over the left shoulder !- And then, like a flat, I must get pigeon'd at faro by ladies of quality, for the swagger of saying, “The duchess and I were curst jolly last night ;" but confusion to despair! I am no flincher, If I can but humbug old Allspice out of a few thousands and marry his daughter, I shall cut a gay figure, and make a splash yet.

Lar. (Without.] A room for Lady Sorrel !

Das. What the devil brings her here ?--Old and ugly as she is, I'll take decent odds but 'tis an intrigue.

Enter LADY SORREL, L. Lady S. (L. C.) Inform my cousin Caustic I'm hereAh! Dashall, I suppose the warm weather has driven you from town.

Das. (c.) True ; London was certainly too hot for me; but how could your ladyship leave the fascination of play?

Lady S. Hush! that's not my rural character.-I always assimilate. The fact is, Dick, I have here a strange, plain-spoken, worthy, and wealthy relation; he gives me considerable sums to distribute in London to the needy, which I lose in play to people of fashion; and you'll allow that is giving them to the needy, and fulfilling the worthy donor's intention, ha, ha!

Das. Then you are not here because your favqurite, young Tangent, is arrived ? Eh !

Lady S. What! Dick, have you found out my attachment there? Well, I confess it; and, if my regard be not, I'll take care my revenge shall be, gratified; and 'tis a great consolation that one is nearly as sweet as the other.

Das. And I'll he equally candid. The miserable fact is, I am completely broziered, cut down to a sixpence, and have left town.

Lady S. Like a skilful engineer, who, having laid his train for the destruction of others, prudently retires during the blow-up. Cau. [Without, L.] In the next room, do you say?

Enter Caustic, L. Lady Sorrel, I rejoice to see you, and have provided at home for your reception.

Lady S. (c.) Then I'll order my carriage and servants there.

Cau. (L. c.) No; I can depend on your prudence, but not on your servants. 'Sdeath! were any of your fashionable London servants to get footing in my family, I suppose in a week my old housekeeper would give conversationes, a little music, and two-penny faro.

Dus. Vastly well.-By no means contemptible.
Cau. Sir!

Lady S. Cousin, this is Mr. Dashall, one of the first men in the city, -sees the first company, lives in the first style.

Cau. This is a merchant of the city of London ?

Das. Curse the quiz! I'll throw off a little [Crosses to him.] Perhaps you've not been in town lately?

Cau. No, sir.

Das. Oh, the old school quite gone by-I remember my old gig of a father wore a velvet night-cap in his counting-house-what a vile bore, ha, ha!

Cau. And pray, sir, what may you wear in your counting-house ?

Das. Strike me moral if I've seen it these three months. If you wish to trade in style, and make a splash, you must fancy Cheapside Newmarket, and Lloyd's and the Alley faro-tables, for Demoivre has as completely ousted Cocker's arithmetic with us, as Hoyle has the Complete Housewife with our wives. Egad ! talk of Brooks's or Newmarket.--chicken hazard to the


game we play at Lloyd's--monopoly's the word now, old boy ; hops, corn, sugar, furs-at all in the ring,

Cau. Amazing ! sir, your capital must be astonishing, to be at all in the ring.

(Mimicking Das. Capital! an old bugbear-never thought of now--no, paper-discount does it.

Cau. Paper !

Das. Ay; suppose I owe a tradesman, my tailor for instance, two thousand pounds.

Cau. A merchantowe his tailor two thousand pounds! mercy on us !

Das. I give him my note for double the sum-he discounts it-I touch half in the ready-note comes due double the sum again-touch half again, and so on, to the tune of fifty thousand pounds. If monopolies answer, make all straight-if not, smash into the Gazette. Brother merchants say,“ Damn'd fine fellow-lived in style -only traded beyond his capital.”-So, certificate's signed, ruin a hundred or two reptiles of retailers, and so begin the war again. That's the way to make a splash-devilish neat, isn't it?

Cau. Pretty well.

Das. How you stare! you don't know nothing of life, old boy.

Cau. Vulgar scoundrel !

.Das. We are the boys in the city! Why, there's Sweetwort, the brewer,—don't you know Sweetwort ? dines an hour later than any duke in the kingdom, imports his own turtle, dresses turbot by a stop-watch, has house-lamb fed on cream, and pigs on pipe-apples-gave a jollification t'other day-Stokehole in the brewhouse-asked a dozen peers--all glad to come-can't live as we do. Who make the splash in Hyde Park ? who fill the pit at the Opera? who inhabit the squares in the west? why, the knowng ones from the east, to be sure.

Cau. Not the wise ones from the east, I'm sure.

Das. Who support the fashionable faro-tables ? Oh! how the duchesses chuckle and rub their hands, when they see one of us.

Cau. Duchesses keep gaming-tables !

Dus. To be sure ! how the devil should they live? Such a blow-up the other night ! you were there, Lady Sorrel!

Lady s. I at a faro-table !

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