Isaac Bickerstaff

“ Oh, sir, how do you do, sir, I was just coming to——
Pick. Come, come, no fooling now—how dare you look me in the face after the mischief you have done?
Little P. What—what have I done?
Pick. You know the value I set upon that mare, you have spoilt for ever.
Little P. But, sir, hear me—indeed I was not so much to blame, sir, not so very much.
Miss P. Do not aggravate your faults by pretending to excuse them—your father is too kind to you. ”

“ Oh, a plague on my plots—I’ve lost my daughter, and for ought I know, my son too—why child, he’s a poor beggar, he’s not worth a sixpence.
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Maria. My soul abhors so low a thought—I despise wealth—know, sir, I cherish nobler sentiments.
The generous youth shall own,
I love him for himself alone.
Old P. What, poetry too—nay then, it is time to prevent further mischief—go to your room—a good key shall assure your safety, and this young rascal shall go back to sea, and his yeo, yeo, yeo, if he will.
Maria. (going) I obey your harsh commands, sir, and am gone—but, alas! ”

“ Very well, sir, then I am gone.
Pick. But sister, stop—was ever man so used—how long is this scheme of yours to last? how long am I to be deprived of him?
Miss P. How long! why until he is brought duly to reflect upon his bad behaviour, which nothing will induce him to do, so soon as thinking himself [17] no longer your son, but the child of poor parents—I yesterday spoke to Margaret, his old nurse, and she fully comprehends the whole affair. ”

“ Sure never man was so tormented—well, I thought when my poor dear wife, Mrs. Pickle died, and left me a disconsolate widower, I stood some chance of being a happy man, but I know not how it is, I could bear the vexation of my wife’s bad temper better than this woman’s. ”

“ Pick. Why, what can it be what the devil ails her?
John. Why, sir, the long and the short of the whole affair, is as how—he’s cut me too all across the face—mercy I did not lose my eyes.
Pick. This cursed fellow will drive me mad—the mare, you scoundrel, the mare.
John. Yes, sir, the mare—then too, my shins—master Salve, the surgeon, says I must ’noint ’em wi’——
Pick. Plague on your shins—you dog—what is the matter with the mare? ”

“ Little P. Thank you a thousand times, my dearest Maria, thus then we’ll contrive it. (seeing Pickle coming behind, they pretend to whisper.)
Old P. What! how’s this!—“Dear Maria, and I’ll refuse you nothing.”—Death and the devil, my daughter has fallen in love with that young scoundrel and his yeo, yeo, yeo—she too, she embraces him— (comes forward) —mighty well, young madam—’tis mighty well, but come, you shall be locked up immediately, and you, you young rascal, be whipt out of the house. ”

“ Pick. Your most obedient humble servant, madam—well said fifty, egad—sir, your most obsequious, Mr. Alexander, Mr. Romeo—John—William—Thomas, (calling the servants) you shan’t want attendants mighty prince, but mayhap you had rather sleep in a castle, great hero, we have a convenient goal close by—where you’ll be very safe, most illustrious chief.
Miss P. Heavens! a Jail! poor dear Mr. Tagg, a victim to his love for me—oh, let us implore his forgiveness—intreat him to release you. (to Tagg.) ”

“ Little P. Yet, sir, for an instant hear me—pity me—ah too sure I know (to Old Pickle) I am not your child—or would that distress which now draws tears of pity from a stranger, fail to move nature in you.
Miss P. Comfort yourself, we must ever consider you with compassion and regard—but now you must begone—Margaret is waiting without to receive you.
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SONG—Little Pickle. ”

“ Go Tommy, do as you are bid, there’s a good boy—thank his honour for his goodness to you.
Little P. Be you the old fellow that’s just come to be my father?
Pick. (aside) Old fellow! he’s devilish dashed to be sure—yes, I am the old fellow, as you call it—will you be a good boy? ”

“ Pick. Her money to a stranger, leave her money to a stranger! Oh! the three per-cent. consols—oh, the India stock—go, child—fly, throw yourself at your aunt’s feet—say any thing to please her—I shall run distracted.—Oh! those consols——
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Little P. I am gone, sir—shall I say she may die as soon as she pleases, but she must not give her money to a stranger.
Pick. Aye, aye, there’s a good boy, say any thing to please her, that will do very well—say she may die as soon as she pleases, but she must not leave her money to a stranger. ”

“ Sister, this is the first pheasant we have had this season, it looks well—shall I help you—they say anger makes a man dry, but mine has made me hungry—come, here’s a wing for you, and some of the breast.
Enter Susan, (a Cook Maid) in haste.
Sus. Oh, dear sir—oh, dear madam—my young master—the parrot, ma’am—oh dear!
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Pick. Parrot, and your young master; what the deuce does the girl mean?
Miss P. Mean! Why as sure as I live that vile boy has been hurting my poor bird.
Sus. Hurting, ma’am—no indeed, ma’am ”

“ Sus. No, sir, we know our young master too well for all that; why he’s as like your honour as one pea is like another.
John. Ay, heaven bless him, and may he shortly succeed your honour in your estate and fortune. ”

“ Little P. There they go, ha! ha! ha! my scheme has gone on rarely, rather better than theirs, I think.—Blessing on the old nurse for consenting to [25] it—I’ll teach ’em to turn people out of doors—let me see, what trick shall I play ’em now—suppose I set the house on fire—no—no—’tis too soon for that as yet—that will do very well bye and bye—let me consider—I wish I could see my sister, I’ll discover myself to her, and then we might contrive something together nicely—that staircase leads to her room, I’ll try and call her (goes to the door and listens) there’s nobody in the way!—Hist! ”

“ Well, I’ll send for him home now without delay. (reads) “Honoured sir, I heartily repent of having so far abused your goodness, whilst I was blest with your protection, but as I fear no penitence will ever restore me to your favour, I have resolved to put it out of my power again to offend you, by instantly bidding adieu to my country for ever.” Here, John, run, go directly to Margery’s and fetch home my son, and——
Little P. (interrupting him) You may save yourself the trouble, ’tis too late, you’ll never bring him too now, make as many signals, or fire as many guns as you please. ”

“ I’ll tell you the whole truth—I was not to blame, indeed I wasn’t, ma’am, besides, I am morally certain ’twas the strange cat that kill’d it this morning.
Miss P. How! kill’d it say you;—but go on, let us hear the whole. ”