Col. T. [Without] mutineers to Cla. O heavens! Where are they? I'll teach the Let's get out of his way. Maj. T. No, stay, stay. Having cleared up our own differences, we must accommodate matters with my uncle. Col. C. But how? Maj. T. I must pretend to quarrel with you; he who can't bear to see any body in a passion but himself, will forgive your tricks out of opposition to me: then for my share in the plot, we have only to—but he comes, follow my exaple. [Colonel Clifford and Major Touchwood pretend to fight. The Women scream. Re-enter COLONEL TOUCHWOOD, driving SHARP on before him, and followed by MORDAUNT. He runs between the pretended Combatants, picks up his Wig, and throws it at one, while he knocks down the Sword of the other with his Cane. MORDAUNT runs to the young Ladies. Col. T. Hear me, ye dæmons of discord, or I'll finish your work by setting fire to the house. What's the meaning of this? I came home from a wildgoose-chase of one colonel- -rot his name, who proposes for my daughter and breaks his appointment; I find my family all run raving mad, coolly ask the reason; when 1 am popp'd into a postchaise by two police puppies; have the great good luck to get overturned into one of my own ditches; escape with whole bones to find my house full of fighting coxcombs, screaming women, and impudent valets, who perhaps will hardly condescend to answer my question, when I civilly inquire, what the devil do you all mean to do next? Col. C. Your nephew, the major, sir, will perhaps explain. Maj. T. Your friend, sir, there, the colonel--colonel Rot-his-name, I think you just called him, was the person by whose orders you were so disgracefully cramm'd into that infernal postchaise; in addition to which, he refuses to marry your daughter Sophia. I, respecting your honour as my own, drew my sword in vindication of your just rights. Col. T. And pray, sir, how dare you vindicate my honour without my permission? Maj. T. Sir, while I have the honour to wear this coat Col. T. And how came you by that coat, sir? Where was your honour when you made free with my property? Maj. T. In short, sir, while the colonel proposed for your daughter, he paid his addresses to my sister, so that if you choose to be so easily satisfied, I am not. Col. C. Hold, sir! the ladies' fortunes are equal; give me Clarissa, and her dowry may go with your daughter to my friend the major. Col. T. So I'm to treat Clary ill because her lover and her brother are a couple of hot-headed fools. I've a great mind to call ye both out. But I find ye all to be such a set of madmen and madcaps, that I shall bind ye over to keep the peace; yourselves in two wedding-rings, your wives in proper marriage securities, and Soph. What next, papa? Col. T. Why your children to be sure, hussy. And if any friends here, yet untired of the tricks we have played to-night, should with a view to-morrow condescend to ask "What's Next?" we respectfully beg leave to answer, by repeating the question. C. Whittingham, Printer, Chiswick. A Comedy. BY MRS. COWLEY. CORRECTLY GIVEN, FROM COPIES USED IN THE THEATRES, BY THOMAS DIBDIN, OF THE THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE. Printed at the Chiswick Press, FOR WHITTINGHAM AND ARLISS, PATERNOSTER |