LITMIR.BIZ

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and I can kiss a pretty girl with as good a relish as—ugh, ugh—ha, ha, ha. A man of five and forty, old, forsooth! ha, ha. My age, truly!—ugh, ugh, ugh.

      Trueman. You talk very valiantly, Mr. Loveyet; very valiantly indeed; I dare say now you have temerity and enterprise enough, even at this time of day, to take a wife.

      Loveyet. To be sure I have. Let me see—I shou'd like a woman an inch or two less than six feet high now, and thick in proportion: By my body, such a woman wou'd look noble by the side of me when she was entient.

      Trueman. Oh, monstrous! Entient! an entient woman by the side of an antient husband! Most preposterous, unnatural, and altogether incongruous!

      Loveyet. Poh, a fig for your high-flown nonsense. I suppose you think it would cost me a great deal of trouble.

      Trueman. No, no; some clever young blade will save you the trouble.

      Loveyet. By my body, I should love dearly to have such a partner; she would be a credit to me when she had me under the arm.

      Trueman. Under the thumb, you mean.

      Loveyet. Under the Devil, you mean.

      Trueman. You're right; you might as well be under the Devil's government as petticoat government; you're perfectly right there.

      Loveyet. I'm not perfectly right;—I—I—I mean you are not perfectly right; and as for her age, why I should like her to be—let me see—about ten years younger than myself: a man shou'd be at least ten years older than his wife.

      Trueman. Ten years; fifty-three and ten are sixty-three. Then you mean your wife shall be fifty-three years of age.

      Loveyet. S'death, sir! I tell you I am but two and forty years old: She sha'n't be more than thirty odd, sir, and she shall be ten years younger than I am too.

      Trueman. Yes, thirty odd years younger than you are; ha, ha. The exiguity of those legs is a most promising earnest of your future exploits, and demonstrate your agility, virility, salubrity, and amorosity; ha, ha, ha. I can't help laughing to think what a blessed union there will be between August and December; a jolly, buxom, wanton, wishful, plethoric female of thirty odd, to an infirm, decrepit, consumptive, gouty, rheumatic, asthmatic, phlegmatic mortal of near seventy; ha, ha. Exquisitely droll and humourous, upon my erudition. It puts me in mind of a hot bed in a hard winter, surrounded with ice, and made verdant and flourishing only by artificial means.

      Loveyet. Pshaw, you're a fool!

      Enter Toupee.

      Toupee. Pardonnez moy, monsieur. I hope it not be any intrusion; par dieu, I will not frize dat Jantemon à la mode Paris no more, becase he vas fronte me.

      Trueman. What's the matter, Mr. Toupee?

      Toupee. I vill tella your honare of the fracas. I vas vait on monsieur a—choses, and make ma compliment avec beaucoup de grace, ven monsieur vas read de news papier; so I say, is your honare ready for be dress? De great man say, "No—, d—n de barbare." [In a low voice.] I tell de parsone, sare, I have promise 'pon honare for dress one great man vat is belong to de Congress, 'bout dis time, sans manquer: De ansare vas (excuse moy, monsieur), "go to h-ll, if you be please; I must read 'bout de Constitution." Dis is de ole affair, monsieur, en verité.

      Loveyet. Sixty-three, indeed! Heaven forbid! But if I was so old, my constitution is good; age is nothing, the constitution is all—ugh, ugh, ugh.

      Toupee. Sare, you vill give me leaf, vat is dat Constitution?

      Loveyet. Hold your prating, you booby.

      Toupee. You booby—Vat is dat booby, I vonder!

      Trueman. Ha, ha, a good constitution! With great propriety did the man ask you what constitution you meant. Ha, ha, ha.

      Toupee. Par Dieu, monsieur de Schoolmastare sall larn a me vat is de booby! oui, an de Constitution—foy d'Homme d'Honneur.

      Trueman. What a figure for a sound constitution! ha, ha.

      Loveyet. Ugh, hang you for an old simpleton! Talk of my age and constitution.—Ugh, ugh, ugh.

      [Exit.

      Trueman. Fractious old blockhead!

      Toupee. Blockhead! Pourquoi you call a mine head von block, sare?

      Trueman. I mean that old curmudgeon who goes hobbling along there, like a man of forty.

      Toupee. Pardonnez moy, monsieur; S'il vous plaît, ve make de éclaircissement, if you tell me vat is de interpretation—you booby.

      Trueman. What! have you the effrontery to call me a booby? S'death, you scoundrel, what do you mean?

      Toupee. Vous ne m'entendez pas.

      [Hastily.

      Trueman. Do you threaten me, you insignificant thing? Do you call me names?

      Toupee. Diable! me no stand under your names.

      Trueman. Zounds and fury! I am raving. Must I bear to be abus'd in this manner, by a vile Tonsor?

      Toupee. Yes, you Schoolmastare; you tell me vat be you booby.

      Trueman. Pertinacious, audacious reptile!

      [Canes Toupee.

      Toupee. Ah, mon dieu! mon dieu!

      [Runs off.

      Trueman. To insult a professor of Orthography, Analogy, Syntax, and Prosody!

      Scene II. A Street.

      Enter Young Loveyet.

      In compliance with the commands of a father, here I am, once more in the place of my nativity. Duty to him, and curiosity to know, why he has enjoined my sudden departure so peremptorily, as well as a desire to see New-York (perhaps never to leave it more) have all conspir'd to bring me here sooner than I am expected—let me see—yes, I must try to find out Frankton first. [Humphry crosses the stage.] Here, friend, honest man, prithee stop.

      Humphry. What's your will?

      Loveyet. Can you inform me, friend, where one Mr. Frankton lives?

      Humphry. No, I don't know where anybody lives in this big city, not I; for my part, I believe how they all lives in the street, there's such a monstrous sight of people a scrouging backards and forards, as the old saying is. If I was home now—

      Loveyet. Where is your home, if I may make so free?

      Humphry. Oh, you may make free and welcome, for the more freer the more welcomer, as the old saying is; I never thinks myself too good to discourse my superiors: There's some of our townsfolks now, why some of 'um isn't so good as I, to be sure. There's Tom Forge, the blacksmith, and little Daniel Snip, the tailor, and Roger Peg, the cobbler, and Tim Frize, the barber, and Landlord Tipple, that keeps the ale-house at the sign of the Turk's Head, and Jeremy Stave, the clerk of the meeting-house, why, there an't one of 'um that's a single copper before a beggar, as the old saying is; but what o' that? We isn't all born alike, as father says; for my part, I likes to be friendly, so give us your hand. You mus'n't think how I casts any reflections on you; no, no, I scorn the action. [They shake hands.] That's hearty now—Friendship is a fine thing, and, a friend indeed is a friend in need, as the saying is.

      Loveyet. What an insufferable fool it is!

      [Half aside.

      Humphry. Yes, it is insufferable cool, that's sartin; but it's time to expect it.

      Loveyet. Worse and worse!

      Humphry. Yes, I warrant you it will be worser and worser before long; so I must e'en go home soon, and look after the corn and the wheat, or else old father will bring his pigs to a fine market, as the old proverb goes.

      Loveyet. You're quite right; you mean your father wou'd bring his corn

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