The Female Wits Part 7

Mrs. _Wellf._ We'll adjourn the Argument, _Marsilia_ shall hear the Cause.

_Prais._ Ay, if you can perswade her to hold her Tongue so long.

Mrs. _Wellf._ I wish I cou'd engage you two in a _Latin_ Dispute, Mr.

_Praiseall_, and you shou'd tell how often the Lady breaks _Pris_--_Pris_--What's his Name? His Head, you know.

_Prais._ _Priscian_, you mean; Hus.h.!.+ Hus.h.!.+

Mrs. _Wellf._ He cares not for entring the Lists neither. Come, Mr.

_Praiseall_, I'll put you upon a more pleasing Task. Try to prevail with that Fair Lady, to give us her New Dialogue.

_Prais._ What, my Angel?

Mrs. _Wellf._ Mrs. _Cross_, I mean.

_Prais._ There is no other She, Madam.

Mrs. _Cross_. Sir!

_Prais._ Will you be so good, to charm our Ears, and feast our Eyes; let us see and hear you in Perfection.

Mrs. _Cross_. This Complement is a Note above _Ela_. If _Marsilia_ shou'd catch me antic.i.p.ating her Song, she'd chide sadly.

Mrs. _Wellf._ Oh, we'll watch. I'll call Mr. _Leveridge_.

_Song by Mrs._ Cross.----_A Dialogue._

_Prais._ Thank you Ten thousand times, my Dear.

_Calista._ I'm almost weary of this illiterate Company.

Mrs. _Wellf._ Now, Mr. _Praiseall_, get but Mrs. _Lucas_'s New Dance, by that time sure the Lady will come.

_Prais._ I'll warrant ye my little _Lucas_.

SINGS.

With a Trip and a Gim, And a Whey and a Jerk at Parting.

Where art thou, my little Girl?

_Little Boy._ She is but drinking a Dish of Coffee, and will come presently.

_Prais._ Pshaw! Coffee! What does she drink Coffee for? She's lean enough without drinking Coffee.

Mr. _Pink._ Ay, but 'tis good to dry up Humours.

_Prais._ That's well, I Faith! Players dry up their Humours_!_ Why what are they good for then? Let her exert her Humours in Dancing, that will do her most good, and become her best.----Oh, here she comes!----You little Rogue, what do you drink Coffee for?

Mrs. _Lucas_. For the same Reason you drink Claret; because I love it.

_Prais._ Ha, Pert_!_ Come, your last Dance, I will not be deny'd.

_Lucas._ I don't intend you shall; I love to Dance, as well as you do to see me.

_Prais._ Say'st thou so? Come on then; and when thou hast done, I'll treat you all in the Green Room with Chocolate; Chocolate, Huzzy; that's better by half than Coffee. _All_ agreed.

_A Dance by Mrs._ Lucas.

_Prais._ t.i.tely done, I Faith, little Girl.

_Enter Mrs._ Knight.

Mrs. _Cross_. Good morrow Mrs. _Knight_. Pray, dear Mrs. _Knight_, tell me your Opinion of this Play; you read much, and are a Judge.

Mrs. _Knight_. Oh your Servant, Madam! Why truly, my Understanding is so very small, I can't find the Ladies meaning out.

Mrs. _Cross_. Why, the Masters admire it.

Mrs. _Knight_. So much the worse. What they censure, most times prospers; and commonly, what they admire, miscarries: Pshaw! They know nothing. They have Power, and are positive; but have no more a right Notion of things, Mrs. _Cross_, than you can have of the Pleasures of Wedlock, that are unmarry'd.

Mrs. _Cross_. I submit to better Judgment in that, Madam. I am sure the Auth.o.r.ess is very proud and impertinent, as indeed most Authors are.----She's a Favourite, and has put 'em to a world of Expence in Cloaths. A Play well-dress'd, you know, is half in half, as a great Writer says; The _Morocco_ Dresses, when new formerly for _Sebastian_, they say enliven'd the Play as much as the Pudding and Dumpling Song did _Merlin_.

Mrs. _Knight_. This Play must be dress'd if there's any Credit remains, tho' they are so cursedly in debt already.

Mrs. _Cross_. It wants it, Madam, it wants it.

Mr. _Wellf._ Well, Ladies, after this Play's over, I hope you'll think of mine; I have two excellent Parts for ye.

_But_, We are at your Service.

Mrs. _Wellf._ Mr. _Pinkethman_! Mr. _Pinkethman_! What, d'ye run away from a Body?

Mr. _Pink._ Who!? I beg your Pardon, Madam.

Mrs. _Wellf._ Well, Mr. _Pinkethman_, you shall see what I have done for you in my next.

Mr. _Pink._ Thank ye, Madam; I'll do my best for you too.

Mrs. _Wellf._ Mr. _Johnson_!

Mr. _Pink._ So, now she's going her Rounds.

Mrs. _Wellf._ Mr. _Johnson_!--Duce on him, he's gone! Well, I shall see him by and by.

_Enter Mr._ Praiseall.

_Prais._ Ladies, the Chocolate is ready, and longs to be conducted by your white Hands to your Rosie Lips!