John O'Keeffe

“ Miss Dolly B. Said! to who, pray?
Lack. To myself—and you know, if a gentleman breaks his word to himself, what dependence can the world have on him—You're a fine creature—but I would not tell a lie for all the women in France.
Miss Dolly B. [Aside.] What a high notion of honour!—a much handsomer man too, than either Tallyho, or the colonel—Ecod, he's a charming, flashy beau!—I have a great mind——
Lack. [Aside.] Just as I thought—of fifty lovers with this young lady, I see, the last is the most welcome.
Miss Dolly B. I vow, I've a mind—but pa says you've no money.
Lack. Me! no money! ”

“ Enter Tallyho.
Tall. I'm an excellent whipper-in for the bottle—Oh, ho! [Looking at Henry, then takes him under the Arm.] Come along.
Henry. Where?
Tall. To get drunk, to be sure—You wear his Majesty's cloth, and go to bed sober, when my English Whirligig has beat the mounseers!—Such a pack of jolly dogs! such burgundy!—won't you come and get drunk with us?
Henry. Certainly, my boy—but, pray, Tallyho, can you tell me—you saw the young lady that parted from me now—admirably handsome!——
Tall. Handsome! Yes, every body says she's like me.
Henry. I shall soon call her mine. ”

“ Tall. Ha! ha! ha! Ah, well, Lackland, you're so full of jokes, that you even laugh at the elbows, ha! ha! ha! that is the best humoured suit of clothes—
Lack. [Calmly.] Sir, if you were any body else, upon my honour, I'd knock you down!
Tall. Hold, if you raise your arm, you'll increase the laugh—Come, don't be angry, [Looks out.] and I'll help you to a graver sort o'coat, that's not quite so much upon the broad grin, ha! ha! ha! Hush! I'll introduce you to Colonel Epaulette yonder.
Lack. [Looking.] That, ay, a right Frenchman; one might guess by his mirth that he has lost to day. ”

“ Sir J. B. Ragouts! Pshaw!
Mrs. Casey. D'ye hear, George, carry that big piece of roast beef up to the Lion.
Sir J. B. [Goes to her.] Ay, and carry me up to the Lion, I like to dine in good company:—Who are you madam?
Mrs. Casey. I'm Mrs. Casey, at your service, sir; and I keep this house, the Lion of England.
Sir J. B. And are you English?
Mrs. Casey. Yes, that I am, born in Dublin; an honest Irish woman, upon my honour.
AIR.—MRS. CASEY.
The British Lion is my sign,
A roaring trade I drive on,
Right English usage, neat French wine,
A landlady must thrive on. ”

“ Henry. What! to be a scoundrel?
Tall. Oh, very well; if you're so nice—ay, now, you're a very delicate chicken! But, harkye, the next time you see sister Celia, don't look at her.
[Going
Henry. Stop, Tallyho—I think I'll punish my knowing one. [Aside.] On second thoughts, I will join with you in this roguery.
Tall. Then you're a cursed honest fellow—my sister's yours.
Henry. Ay, with her consent——
Tall. Her consent! if we make the match, what has her consent to do with it?—but I'll settle that—come, you shall have it from her own mouth, this instant.
Henry. But what shall I do with Rosa? ”

“ Henry. I feel for you, sincerely!
Lack. What d'ye mean? Oh, my— [Looking at his Clothes.] Pshaw! never mind a man's outside; I've a heart within, equally warm to an old friend, in snow, or sunshine.
Henry. That I have passed so many happy, happy days with!
Lack. Have—ay, and will again.
Henry. All gone?—Play, I suppose?
Lack. Ay, my dear fellow! play, and pleasure, and—but what the devil, musty melancholy! Come to sport here at the races, eh? flush?
Henry. Why, 'faith, Lackland, as to cash, my affairs, at present, are little better than your own. ”

“ Sir J. B. What!—your hand, my Briton!—you shall never want a nail for your hat, in my parlour, at dinner time—you shall post my books, and take the whip hand of my lady's gig on a Sunday.
Lack. Drive a gig! My dear dad, you shall rattle up in your vis-a-vis, to the astonishment of all Garlick Hill.
Sir J. B. My dearee and I ride, side by side, in a vis-a-vis! ha! ha! ha!
Tall. Yes, and if you whip your gig down to Yorkshire, I'll mount her ladyship upon Whirligig, and, Sir Jackey, my lad, up you go again upon Kick-him-Jenny. ”

“ Lapoche is, perhaps, an exact Frenchman of the time in which he was drawn; and, as such, the most agreeable object for an Englishman's ridicule. The mistakes which occur, to both Mr. and Mrs. Bull, in respect to this insignificant, and that pompous man, Epaulette, are incidents of very rich humour, though they place the opera more in that class of the drama, which is called farce, than in that of comedy. Such is the incident, but more excellent in its kind, of Lackland's courtship of Miss Dolly, and her equal affection for her three suitors. ”

“ Lady B. But, consider, my dear, if Colonel Epaulette does us the honour of a visit, how he'll be shocked at your appearance!
Sir J. B. Thank you, thank you, wife; but I don't think I'm quite so shocking.
Lady B. Then, if he does introduce us to the prince—Sir John, to tell you a secret, I have already sent for one Mr. Lapoche, a celebrated French tailor, to make you a new suit of clothes for the occasion.
Sir J. B. A French tailor for me!—very well, very well, ladies.
Enter First Waiter.
Waiter. Mr. Lackland, madam; would you chuse to see him?
Sir J. B. Ay, ay, let the poor devil come up. ”

“ Sir J. B. Throgmorton Street!
Lack. That is—I mean—You're come to Fontainbleau, and just arrived:—my heart warmed at the sight of my countryman, for I'm English too,—a little unfortunate, but——
Sir J. B. You're poor, eh?
Lack. Why, sir,—I have had money—
Sir J. B. And what did you do with it?
Lack. Sir, I laid it out in experience.
Sir J. B. Oh! then, I suppose, now, you're a very cunning fellow.
Lack. I know the world, sir—I have had rent rolls, lands, tenements, hereditaments, mansions, arables, pastures, streams, stewards, beasts, tenants, quarter-days, and such other incumbrances. ”

“ Lady B. What's the matter—what's the matter now with you, Sir John?
Sir J. B. The mischief to play—here has been Colonel Epaulette, and I unfortunately mistook him for the French tailor that I expected, to take orders for my new clothes.
Lady B. Sir John, why will you ever attempt to speak to persons of distinction?—Take a Colonel of the Gendesarmes for a tailor—how absurd!— [Calls.] Who waits?—Sir John, pray stay and explain this affair.
Sir J. B. Me!—damme, I wouldn't face him again for the pay of his whole regiment. ”

“ Waiter. Oui, you be Sir John—
[Bows, &c.
Sir J. B. D'ye understand?—I was riding, and Tallyho's mare threw me— [Roaring, Waiter bowing, &c.] You scoundrel! what, d'ye stand grinning at me? Get somebody to dress my head.
Waiter. Oui, monsieur.
[Exit.
Sir J. B. Oh dear, oh dear! get me once out of France—Then my wife and daughter! such a pair of mademoiselles, as they are making of themselves, to receive this great French Colonel Epaulette——Egad, here they come, in full puff!
Enter Lady Bull and Dolly, extravagantly dressed.
Sir J. B. [Bows ridiculously.] A-la-mode de Paree! ”

“ Henry. A thousand thanks for this kind solicitude!—My lord—Sister—give me leave to introduce a lady, who, I hope, will soon honour our family by the dearest tie.
Miss Dolly B. [Without.] Run, husband, or they'll catch us.
Enter Lackland and Miss Dolly Bull.
Lack. Let's rally, and face the enemy.
Enter Sir John and Lady Bull.
Sir J. B. So, you're a pretty jade! ”

“ Sir J. B. Go in there, you jade! [Forces her off.] how cunning you look now, Tally, my lad!
[Exeunt Miss Bull and Sir John.
Tall. Don't force her away from her beautiful swain— [Looks disappointed, and whistles.] So, here's a pretty commence! but if Doll meets me at the Colonel's, I'll whip her off; and if Captain Henry has laid the betts upon my slang match, I shall roll in rhino—first, marry Doll, in private—then, London—hey for a wedding, in full cry, and, then for the dear delights of London!
AIR.—TALLYHO.
In London, my life is a ring of delight ”

“ Sir J. B. Fifteen years—the Grasshopper, on Garlick Hill.
Lack. And you sold raisins, and—
Sir J. B. Yes, I did, and figs too.
Lady B. D'ye hear him?
Lack. [Aside.] Hem! Yes, I'll marry her—a dowdy—he's a seller of figs—yet, fourscore thousand—
Sir J. B. And yet, do you know——
Lack. [Puts him back gently.] Softly—Ma'am, [To Miss Dolly Bull.] —upon my soul, you're a very fine creature!
Miss Dolly B. Sir! [Aside.] Lord, I like him, vastly!
Lack. I say, ma'am, I—but, hold—I had best begin with a compliment to the mother though—Ma'am,— [Looks first at Lady Bull, then at Sir John.] —Figs! ”

“ Truth and virtue pass away,
Ere I for another my true love betray.
[Exeunt.
ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. The Course.—A Shouting within.
Enter Tallyho and Jockey.
Tall. Huzza! Ecod, Dick, my boy, you did the thing nicely!
Jockey. Didn't I, your honour? I said I'd win for you—Huzza!
Tall. Huzza! we've banged the monsieurs. Hey for Yorkshire! d'ye hear—See Whirligig well rubbed down, and give her a horn of egg, milk, oil, and saffron; and while you lead her down the course in triumph, let the French horns play, Britons strike home. [Sings.] ”

“ Tall. You will catch them, as your coat is a kind of tinder, ha! ha! ha!
Lack. Sir, I desire you will find some other subject for your jokes.
Tall. True, your coat is rather a thread-bare subject, ha! ha! ha!—touching the cash makes a body so comical, ha! ha! ha!
Lack. Cash; ay, your wit is sterling to-day, Tallyho, and as you carry your brains in your pocket, I wish you'd change me a twenty pound joke. ”

“ Mrs. Casey. Ha! upon my honour, it is Sir John Bull and his lady—this is the truth of an English family.
Enter Sir John and Lady Bull, French Inn-Keeper, Four French Porters, with small Bandboxes, &c.
Mrs. Casey. Sir John, you are welcome from Paris.
Sir J. B. Welcome from Paris! [Mimicking.] —-Where the devil are you taking us? Such a way, to walk over your damned pavement!
Lady B. Oh fie, Sir John! Do you consider where you are? When English gentlemen come to France, they should leave their dammes at Dover. ”

“ Rosa. Yes; and I was e'en obliged to change them before I reached Fontainbleau. Oh, my lord! this is a wicked step of me!
Lord W. The impiety was mine, my love! to rob Heaven of an angel—But how unlucky! here, my dear, you've got into the house of this Lapoche—the most busy little coxcomb!
Rosa. I wish, indeed, I had been any where else!
Lord W. Well, we may get from hence to-night: my death, from that rencontre with your brother, is every where believed.
Rosa. My dear lord! now only yours—I know no guide but your opinion.
Lord W. My sweet Rosa! ”

“ Will your ladyship honour me—Miss Dolly, your lily hand—
[Takes her Hand.
Tall. [Interposing.] No matter whether her hand is a lily, or a tulip, or a daffydowndilly—by your leave, neighbour—
[Gets between Dolly and Lackland.
Lack. Sir, you know I am always ready to correct insolence; if a man insults me, 'tisn't his fortune can protect him— [Turning to Sir J. Bull.] pr'ythee, Bull, step and ask if I left my snuff-box in the bar below. Mr. Tallyho, when you're inclined to quarrel, I am always ready to go out with you. ”

“ As you're English, I feel an attachment;—harkye—a damned sharping place, this—you may profit by my advice; avoid strangers, particularly our own countrymen;—all upon the sharp—they'll introduce themselves, intrude their conversation, amuse you with some flam of their families, and spending fortunes, and losses; and the story generally ends in borrowing money from you, that is, if you are fool enough to lend it.—Now, my dear sir, 'tis my pleasure to warn a gentleman, like you, of the tricks and deceptions, of these sort of fellows. ”

“ Miss Dolly B. Upon my word, this is clever—so, a gentleman can't go to be married, without his great boots! and t'other youth couldn't go without his dancing pumps—Ecod, if one of my old sweethearts was to step in now, I am so vexed, I should be strongly tempted to give them both the double.
Lackland. [Without.] Oh, the lady's this way.
Miss Dolly B. Who have we now? I protest, the sprightly, elegant gentleman, that sent papa for his snuff box—he's a vastly pretty fellow! ”

“ Casey. Lookye, Mr. Lackland, that you're a gentleman every body knows; and you've a good estate, only it's all gone; and you're allowed to be a six bottle man, and a choice companion. Ah! the beginning of a good song at the latter end of a bottle is a capital thing for a house—Now, here, during the race time, I'll give you your board at the table d'hôte, and money in your pocket to pay the reckoning, if you'll only be a good jolly fellow, and encourage the company to drink, by a funny song, or a comical story.
Lack. What! live by entertaining a company? ”

“ Casey. Ay, my house may be ruined, indeed, if I haven't money to pay my wine merchant. I'll tell you what, my honest lad, I've no notion of folks striving to keep up the gentleman, when they cannot support it; and when people are young and strong, can't see any disgrace in taking up a brown musket, or the end of a sedan chair, or—a knot— [Looking at his Shoulders.] any thing better than bilking me, or spunging upon my customers, and flashing it away in their old clothes. ”

“ When music had fewer charms for the British nation, operas were required to possess more of interesting fable than at present is necessary—for now, so rapturous is the enjoyment derived from this enchanting art, even by the vulgar, that plot, events, and characters of genuine worth, would be cast away in a production, where music had a share in bestowing delight. ”