LIBERTY CHASTISED: OR PATRIOTISM in CHAINS. A TRAGI, COMI, POLITICAL FARCE, As it was performed by his M—'s S—ts, in the Year 1268; Which exhibits to the PUBLIC, a View of the OPPRESSIONS under which LIBERTY groaned, during a most flagitious A—n in that weak R—n; represented in the Characters of BOTCH, GRAPNEL, MANSUPPLE, CHATWELL, and ALMAGNIA, &c.
SCENES near the P— and in St. Gregoir's Fields.
MODERNISED By PAUL TELL-TRUTH,
Esq
LONDON: Printed for the AUTHOR, and Sold by STAPLES STEARE, No. 93, FLEET-STREET, 1768.
Dramatis Personae.
Courtiers.
GRAPNEL,
BOTCH,
MANSUPPLE,
WIMPLE,
SHELTER,
BARNACLE,
Merchants.
BLUNT,
HONESTY,
Soldiers.
MACMURTHER,
MACSLAUGHTER,
DONALD, a North countryman, just arrived in a metropolis.
Justices, Officers, Constables, Guards, Mobs of Men, Women and Children.
WOMEN.
ALMAGNIA, —
ABIGAIL, A Waiting Woman.
JENNY, A gay Lady.
LIBERTY CHASTISED: OR PATRIOTISM in CHAINS.
ACT I. SCENE I.
SCENE,
a handsome house not far from
St. J—s.
Enter
Lord GRAPNEL
in great haste, and servants in waiting.
PRAY Sir, shew me to Lord
Botch,
in a minute!
I really don't know, my Lord! whether his Lordship be here or no!
(calls)
Abigail—Is Lord
Botch
here?
Stay I'll step and see—
(aside)
"I know not if he has left
Almagnia's
apartment."—
[Exit.
'Sblood! why all this ceremony?—By heav'ns I shall be too late for Newmarket!—and my dearest creature Flavia will be out of all patience!—ha! here she returns.
Be pleased my Lord to follow me—Lord
Botch
waits your G—ce.
SCENE
opens, discovers Lord
BOTCH
alone.
What a wretched system of government do we live under?—That accursed LIBERTY! which ought to be enjoyed only by the Great, has been, by the d—d troublesome plebeian scoundrels, who founded in freedom the basis of this hateful Constitution, so clearly transmitted down to their posterity, that ev'n with the most u— and c— K— that ever lived, and no want of M—l tools ready enough to support every step to despotism!—Yet, one d— obstinate fellow has had address enough, in spite of persecution, to keep the peoples eyes open! and from my very first appearance on the Theatre of Politics to counteract every plot I can form!—Ha! but here comes
Grapnel
—
(enter Grap.)
Your G—s most obedient! I rejoice to see you!—
My Lord!—I'm yours entirely!—
Well! Good
Grapnel,
—how is it? does the madness of people begin to abate? or do they continue as restless and desperate as ever?—
Why,—'faith, my Lord, they go on to your wish; and their numbers rather increase than diminish!—
So much the better!—Military force! the very soul of Government! is so fettered in this d—d land of freedom, that there's no such thing as using it, until the terror of every cowardly peace officer obliges them to cry for it, and then we can employ it with some degree of plausibility!—
Grapnel,
I have contriv'd it so, that none but sneaking fools shall, on that occasion, appear in opposition to the
Watcherites!
By which means the mobility may be induced to proceed to such enormities, that the blockheads who are to deal with them, will, to protect themselves, call loudly for military aid! and thereby furnish us with an excellent pretext to govern by that Power!—This, my Lord, is a crisis which demands all our attention:—your G—e must be at hand to support our schemes in C—l! for you know there is some difficulty there!—
Upon my honour, your Lordship must dispense with my attendance at this so critical a juncture!—My name and interest are always at your disposal:—But—my favourite pleasures! My Lord! I would not renounce—to please the K— of heav'n! far less any k— on earth!—
Good God! how much does your G—e surprise me? just at the most important juncture of all our hopes and fears, to see a nobleman of your abilities careless of so great concerns—is, indeed, amazing!
My Lord! it does not signify—with me, business must yield to pleasure!—in this hour, I sacrifice more to your Lordship alone!—than I would—to save a nation from perdition!—Think only my darling Flavia is in impatient waiting—the post-chaise has been ready these two hours—and—let us drive as fast as we can—we shall lose, at least, the first course of sport!—So—My good Lord, excuse me—I am yours—
(offering to go.)
But—My Lord—one moment!—
Upon my honour, I can't!—a moment is an age—you have nothing to sear—every thing is prepared—
Wimple
is yours—and the secretaries only wait for orders! adieu!—adieu!—
[Ex. hastily.
Never was there so unhappy a favourite as I am! with all that well known influence I have gain'd over every thing stampt with R—y, from the indolence of an artless C—n, down to the cunning of the more active petticoat!—yet those of the nobility, who have understanding to be of any service in arbitrary projects, are either so timid and fearful of popular clamour, or so prone to dissipation and pleasure—that I am drove to the disagreeable necessity of availing myself of others, who have too much to be done by one man—whose chief study is—to make the world believe—he does nothing!—Ha! some fresh reproach—I hear
Almagnia.
Enter
ALMAGNIA.
My Lord! 'tis past all bearing!—was ever a person in my exalted station, suffered to be so daringly and openly insulted, by a rabble of—rascally slaves!
Alas! Madam! they are not slaves!—that's what I want to bring 'em to!—May I but accomplish that,—your vengeance should be amply gratified.—But what's the matter—tell me thou dear empress of my heart—does any thing new distress you?
See here! another vile scrawl, found pasted near the p—e g—e this morning!—What! are all the guards blind? where are their eyes? what have they their arms and their pay for? I conjure you, my Lord, to enquire into this matter; find out who were upon guard;—I shall insist that they be punished—I never desire to see any but the —d regiment mount upon the —
Madam—that's what cannot be—such distinctions would provoke our best friends, the a—y, to the same disaffection which governs the multitude—and then indeed, the event might be fatal to both you and me!
Well—well, my Lord!—if a—must submit to such rudeness—better be the m— of a shoe black—than the m— of a—! the one may sue for redress—I, it seems cannot!—
(she cries, and indignantly throws a paper to him)—he takes it up and reads:
—"The
is a fool!—his
a whore!—Botch is a rogue!—We need say no more!"—
Such insolence is indeed distracting!—
Yes, my Lord—such insolence is distracting—and to suffer it—not much to the honour of a man, for whom I have so dearly purchased so much power—By heav'ns, 'tis want of spirit!—
Madam!—you wrong me.—What man dare do—I dare—But the constitution of this d—d country, so little understood by either you or me, is so pregnant with obstacles to arbitrary g—t —That while one
Watcher
stands in our way, the difficulties are almost insuperable!
Very fine indeed!—After having spent the very best of my youth to aggrandize, and to make you happy—I must at length be told, that the ac—d c—n of this country condemns me to bear hourly insults unnoticed, and confinement from every sort of pleasure; but—those of my bed chamber!—Of what importance then, my Lord, has been the persecution and imprisonment of the so much dreaded
Watcher?
—Had it not been better to have purchased him also! at any price?
Madam! you know as little of
Watcher
as you do of the E— c—n!—he is incorruptible!—For what good purpose, do you think it was that I bestowed so much pains to soften and reclaim the most obdurate enemy we had!—The so popular
Chatwell!
—Why, madam!—all that was with a view to trapan
Watcher!—Chatwell
had his price!—I found it out—I left him and his contentious ally, Lord
Taunter,
to divide the nations spoils between 'em—and—all to silence this d—d
Watcher!
whom I thought was so inviolably attached to their interests, that he would lead just as they pleased!—but he's an unfathomable fellow!—The PEOPLE are his K—!—and HE is THEIRS!—there's no separating their interests!—Nor do I see a possibility of purchasing
Watcher
's services.—But at—a price—which no m—r will ever part with:—that is—to yield up all the power and wealth of c—t supporters and c—t p—rs, to be divided amongst the multitude, that they forsooth may enjoy the conveniencies of life, with no less satisfaction, than the best of us!—perdition seize such Liberty!
Then, my Lord!—I find there's no hope left.—I wish I was any where, out of this vile country!
A moment's patience, madam!—I have yet some cards to play:—for
Chatwell
and
Taunter
when they had, you know, the whole k—m at their disposal differed between themselves, as I rightly judged, about the dividing of it.—I threw them the bait on purpose;—they tug'd, and tug'd at each end of it; until
Chatwell,
finding, what every body had seen before, that the avidity of
Taunter
was insatiable; then invited others, less gormandizers, to partake of the feast! —and by one clever jirk, he pulled the bait entirely out of
Taunter
's maw!—he next gilded a a pill for
Prattle!—Prattle
swallowed it!—and the edge of his patriotic zeal was blunted!—
Watcher,
perceiving that the capital pillars of his grand structure were thus shaken, and that
Taunter
only was left unsatisfied, bethought him next, to rear an edifice on a broader bottom, to be founded in greater solidity, and to require fewer ornaments.—He applies himself to the public—endeavours, as the most interested, to open their eyes; and, to speak truth, he has laboured so successfully, that the Question now is—Whether all must yield to WATCHER and LIBERTY!—or, by force and despotism, endeavour to
chastise
both!
And do you make a question of that?—have you not
Watcher
already tied up? Are not the j—s of our side? and have you not all the m—y force of the n—n at your command?
True, madam!
Watcher
is confined, but this confinement is rather form than reality.—And if he was of that seditious spirit that we attribute to him, he has friends enough at his nod, to shake the pillars, not of his p—n only, but the p—e too.—And it is from some violent attempt of that sort, that my best hopes are at present founded.—But I fear he has too much penetration for us all;—for altho' he sustains the spirit of the multitude, he artfully restrains their impetuosity.—As for the j—s—I hope they lean to our side, but the sagacity of
Mansupple
is so guarded, that he'll do nothing rashly—the best services he will do for us, must have, at least, the countenance of l—.—The m—y are no doubt at our devotion; but even with respect to them, I am under some difficulties—there's Lord
Shelter
rides resty—he is yet too young in m—l practices—nay, I'm afraid the projects we must now carry through, are somewhat repugnant to his notions of politics.—I'm afraid he's either too honest, or too timorous—he feels too warmly for the people—and altho' he never was in the cabal with
Watcher,
yet he rather seems to disapprove of rigid measures—in one word. I am deceived in him—I do not like him—and yet when force is necessary, I would wish to have his sanction.—
Enter a
SERVANT.
My Lord—an officer—.
[Ex.
Almagnia.
Enter an
OFFICER.
My Lord—all is in an uproar—nothing to be heard from one end of the city to the other—but—WATCHER and LIBERTY—no liberty! no life!—down with BOTCH and all Botchers—The p—n is surrounded by thousands, and the fields are filled with millions!—
So much the better—But pray how does
Watcher
behave?
Why, my Lord, he seldom appears; and when he does come to the window, the acclamations are so loud, that he can't be heard himself.—One of his d—d adherents told me, that in the midst of their uproar, a servant of
Watcher
's mingled with the mob; they bore the servant on their shoulders.—Swore, that maugre all power on earth they would have him out. And that if he would not come to the window to satisfy them that he was well, and well-used—they would instantly knock down every thing before them, and make their way to his apartment.—The servant told them he would speak to them, and had twice attempted it, but that their clamour was so noisy, he could not be heard.—My Lord, it will surprise you, but 'tis true, the word of command for silence was given out, and in a trice all was as still as a bagnio at mid-day.—The servant returned.
Watcher
came to his window and harrangued the people, upon the impropriety of their assembling in such numbers neglecting their business, and their families, to do him more harm than good—told them, his confinement was by appointment of law, that the same law would soon relieve him; and that he would not for a kingdom enjoy one hour of freedom that was contrary to law.—He prayed them to dismiss—and promised that should any illegal steps be pursued to punish him, or injure them, he would then be glad of and call for their assistance, but at present he had no complaints.—
Curse his discretion!
But all would not do, my Lord—he had no sooner finished, and pulled down his window, than the shouting grew louder—his enemies were all d—d—and swearing that there could be neither law nor reason to punish so great a man; the outrage grew more violent—they insulted the senturies — and J— requires more force, otherwise, he says, he'll abandon his post.—
So far well—fly instantly and find Lord
Barnacle.
—
See, my Lord, he's here!
Enter Lord
BARNACLE.
My good Lord—you're welcome—
My Lord—the uproar increases—Lord
Wimple
begs your lordship's opinion—Lord
Shelter
opposes sending any troops, or if any should be sent, he is for marching all the three regiments, that the people seeing no chance of opposition may disperse quietly.—
Why, my Lord—that would be to represent g— as too fearful, and the mob as too important.—My opinion is, that a small detachment should first be sent;—if they are resisted, let others be ready to reinforce them; and let the t—d r—t be kept under arms as a reserve, that, when the fury of the ruffians is thus gradually roused to a proper pitch,
they
may have a good pretence to fall upon them, and heartily revenge their country's affronts.—
Yours, my Lord, is the judgment of a Soloman—I go about it.—
Take care, my Lord, what ammunition may be served out—none of your harmless small shot.—Ball—ball!
Enough said—my Lord.—
[Exeunt severally
ACT II.
SCENE,
the Fields.
The curtain draws—discovers a confused multitude of Men, Women, and Children, as diverting themselves and laughing at some Soldiers—.
HUzza!—a—a—!
Watcher
and
Liberty!
—
Liberty
and
Watcher
for ever! huzza!—a—a—
Watcher
and
Liberty!
huzza—a—a—
Enter
J—E.
What! ho!
sogers
advance! have a care, you mad people! what in the devil's name are ye all about.—Let me hear who dare to cry for
Watcher!
or for
Liberty!
—I shall
Liberty
ye!—
Insolent wretches!
be gone, I say; nor dare to insult the guardians of our
peace,
the
sogers!
—
Ha! ha! ha! smoak him! smoak him! heydey master J—E, does your worship think to restrain our tongues, because you have got Mr.
Watcher's
body confined?—d—me if e'er a j—e of ye all shall confine my tongue, nor my t—l either, when I have a mind to use them! huzza—
Watcher
and
Liberty,
huzza—a—a—
[Some dirt, clods, and horse dung, &c. thrown towards the J—, C—, &c.
Mark—mark—master C—, mind these women, I shall know them again—there are some men and boys too who are roaring
Watcher
and
Liberty!
—We shall have more
sogers
by and bye—I will read the act—and then we shall see who bawls for
Watcher
and
Liberty
—some of ye shall sleep in your shoes I'll warrant ye!
O! rare J—!—Your worship will read the
ack,
will you?—You'd better wipe your a—se with it! What—in the devil's name read the
ack
—against women and children! read the
ack!
I say read the
ack
too—Y'ad better read an
ack
against fornication and adultery, master J—e—Sleep in our shoes too! O! brave general J—e! go home, and sleep in your
horns,
master J—e—You'll do more good, by minding your wife and your shop, than coming here to read
acks
against
Conscience, Watcher
and
Liberty!
—
Huzza—a—a—
Watcher
and
Liberty
for ever!
[Drums are heard as advancing.
Justice reads—while he is reading, several people out of derision and indignation, throw some pieces of brick and clods—and then leave the field—
Guards advance in order of battle—the J—e finishes his reading—and immediately—
Huzza—a—
Watcher
and
Liberty!
for ever, huzza—a—.
—"Gentlemen—I have done every thing in the power of a civil magistrate cloathed with all the authority of g—t! and as the representative of our august and venerable young—! to reform and disperse this unlawful and dangerous mob!—who threaten d—n to all the great m—s of st— who have scandalously slandered the wise name of the noble Lord BOTCH! altho' to his lordship's wisdom this great n—n is so much indebted—for purchasing to us and our posterity—a
glorious, lasting
and
honourable peace!
—Who have dared to utter vile lying aspersions against the greatest l—y of this, or any other n—n!—And who,
what is worst of all,
have had the impudence to laugh at the respectable authority of the quorum now assembled in my person.—For all which
rebellious
practices! Gentlemen, I give you full authority to
chastise
that
liberty,
which these lawless people contend for; and to secure their persons by death; or any other lawful methods, which to your great wisdom and clemency shall be judged most expedient—So God save the k—, and grant you success!"—
Huzza—a—a—
Watcher
and
Liberty
forever! huzza.
Macslaughter and Macmurder, do you mark that young rascal yonderhow loud he roars?
Aye—aye—your honour—We'll do for him presently?
[Several shots are heard, and two or three sogers run out of their ranks in pursuit of a young man, who takes shelter in a stable-yard.
Enter
C—L.
Recover your arms!—As you were!—No more firing—What in the name of God is all this for? I can see no riot, no, nor the least resistance!—And yet a great many unoffending people killed and wounded!—Shame!—shame! that British arms should be thus prostituted!—
[Exit another way.
Officer and sogers return.
D—me
Donald!
—I have done for that young rebel!
You!—C—e your blud!—'twas me that finished his E—saul!—Sin of a bitch! he bawled for
leeberty
too! he'll bawl nae mair,
Baldy!
I'se answer for that!—
So d—me—you wou'd ha' a the oner o't!—I'll be c—, but I fir'd first.—
No matter for that—it was my duble bullets that put an end to his quaaking—
Na! God, Donald, if you come to that—the coptain himsel ga' 'um the last tutch.—
Deel mak matter, man, how it was, its doon, and gif wee had but our awn h—d r—s heer—'fore God—we might send a' the E— sauls of them to follow his.—
Hadd your tung, mon, there's the Cornet, he's nae grit friend to Lord BOTCH—d—m he lykes the E— o'er weel.—
[Exeunt.
SCENE,
a Garden.
Enter
HONESTY
and
BLUNT.
Why, friend
Blunt
—these are shameful and terrible doings.—See what all this patriotism of
Watchers
brings upon us?
Friend
Honesty
thou art certainly mad!—All this patriotism of
Watchers!
—What in the name of justice!—Do you blame
Watcher?
No, I do not blame
Watcher
as the actual transgressor, but as the original cause; for had he kept himself quiet, and given no countenance to the mob, perhaps his past offences might have been forgotten; the g—t might have overlookt him; then there would have been no canvassing, no caballing, nor no riots!—
Friend
Honesty
—you are not yet well acquainted with the true spirit and character of
Jack Watcher.
—Some others of your more pusilanimous
liberty boasters,
would, as you say, have kissed the rod long before now.—But
Jack
is not that man—he has once fairly engaged to be
liberty
's and the
people
's champion.—And to expose to the just censure of the public, those m—l s—s, who would sacrifice both to the lust of their own temporary emolument—he has resolution, and he has honesty.—And should arbitrary measures so far prevail against him as to bring him even under sentence of death—Whilst the people will adhere to him, and until he obtains for them, the end of his noble pursuit; he would go to that death sooner than owe his life to m—l favour!
Well! well! but to what end does he seduce the people to neglect their business; and to make all this rout and noise, so much to the prejudice of themselves and neglect of their families? I still say that he is indirectly the cause of this day's slaughter!
Watcher
does by no means either seduce or inflame them.—They are sensible that it is on account of his firm attachment to them, and to the just influence he has got amongst them, that the resentment of a—n so keenly persecutes him; they justly think, if they were to leave him to lie neglected in a prison, where he's confined for their sakes, it would be the height of ingratitude.—This leads numbers of them successively to shew their personal gratitude, by which they imagine they keep up his spirits—This is poison to his persecutors.—They make a parade of g—s, c—s, &c.—Such parades always gather abundance of idlers; and the indifferent, and the interested mingling together, look like a concourse of people, and are howsoever quiet, branded with the name of mob!—The scheme of g—t is to deter every body from so much as looking at him.—In hopes, by procrastinating his trial as they do, from day to day, that the people will at length be tired out, and so desert him:—But to blame him with any fatal consequences, is just as reasonable as it would be to blame me.—If I sent out a ship to purchase wealth to the nation, and if by the mismanagement of the master or pilot, the ship should be lost—the loss of that ship's crew may, I say, be as justly imputed to me, as the murders of this day can be imputed to honest
Jack Watcher.
Well,
Blunt,
but what security have the people, or you in your minds; supposing that
Watcher
was to get the better of his enemies; what security have you, I say, that he would more than others before him, exert unchangeably all his masterly faculties for the public weal.
Every earthly security that can be promised upon incorruptibility!—a clear head!—and an honest heart!
Pray what mighty proofs has he given of being incorruptible?
Proofs, in such a case cannot be positive, because corruption seldom admits of evidence.—But never was any case supported by so strong presumptive proof.—During his service in p—t, his vigilance and activity could not escape the notice of the m—s.—We all know that many, with not the half of his talents, were bought off at a very high price, and his continuing so long unplaced, and unpensioned, is a convincing testimony to me, that he was not to be purchased.—In the next place, when through him, such a wound was given to the
native liberty of E
—! can you suppose that any
son of corruption
would have, in defence of it, undergone ignominious trials, and suffered imprisonment, when doubtless he could have avoided both, by letting the stab which
liberty
had sustained, pass unnoticed! Would not the m—y, think you, have paid him a very high price; rather than have submitted to the disgrace he brought upon them, and their emissaries? and yet did he not, as advocate for the
public,
peril his freedom and fortune, rather than yield one inch of
theirs?
Why
Blunt,
these are strong presumptions, I confess; but how will you justify that clearness of head, and goodness of heart, you ascribe to him, when you consider the censure of p—t!— and the v—s of a j—, standing against him for sedition and impiety?
As for the seditious part of it,
Honesty
has too much good sense not to grant me, that the speeches put into the mouths of the best of k—s by wicked m—rs, have before
Watcher's
time been as freely handled, and not a word said about it.—As to the accusation of impiety—I am sorry he is liable to the imputation.—But I will no more admit that he was guilty of a publication in that case; than if you was to shew me a witty poem; however wild it might be, of which I should wish for a copy, and you should consent to let me take one, on condition that I would furnish you with two or three.—The perusal of free thoughts on religious subjects, is only dangerous to the morals of mankind when they fall into the hands of weak heads, incapable of distinguishing between right and wrong.—When they come into the hands of men of sense, they will be able to discover and expose their errors, and thereby do rather service than harm to the truth.—And as it is impossible to conceive that ever the piece in question was designed for the public eye, as I can't help thinking that a most absurd verdict which pronounced it to be a publication; and by that means subjected the
undesigning copier
to the punishment due to a criminal publisher.
Upon my word
Blunt
—thou mak'st no bad advocate for thy friend
Jack Watcher.
My friend! d'ye call him?—'Faith he's too keen a fellow to be a friend to
Blunt
—any farther, than as being the friend of the
public,
he's every man's friend; and as such, he shall always have
Blunt
's best wishes. Nay, neighbour! I'll fairly tell you, that I'm determined to stand by him at the peril of all I'm worth.
Give me thy fist,
Blunt!
—for, by my soul,
Honesty
will go hand in hand with thee.—I'll tell thee
Blunt
—It is now no trifling question—I don't at present look upon it as a simple contention between
Watcher
and the m—y!—I consider it as war openly declared between
Liberty
and
arbitrary Power!
—At no juncture, have the people so unanimously and avowedly distinguished themselves in the cause of Freedom and Patriotism!—And if it should be in the power of prerogative and despotism to render their endeavours upon this occasion, ineffectual, then may every one of us be next employed to rivet his neighbour's chains!—Along then, friend
Blunt,
let's go to the Duke's Head, and quaff one sober bottle—to
Liberty
—to
Watcher
—and to every true friend of our good kind and free-constitution!—
[Exeunt.
SCENE,
changes to Covent Garden.
Enter
BLUNT, JENNY
following.
Hist! hist—Mr.
Blunt!
one word.
What d'ye want, ye jade? get about your business—I have no leisure for you.—
Heyday! what the devil's the matter? get about my business!—I have been in quest of business all the evening, and can find none—Times are very hard! d—d hard indeed, Mr.
Blunt!
—Do! for charities sake, treat me with a single pint—and a little bit of—any thing.
Why—you hungry jade you, why don't you get to work? You could, if you would, do well enough!—But you prefer idleness, whoring, and starving, to industry, decency, and a comfortable living?
'On my soul, now, that's merry enough—What is
Blunt
turned reformer too?—I shall lose all my friends bye and bye.—There's my good friend
Jack Watcher
already cooped up for pretending to reform politicks, and his acquaintance
Blunt,
to follow his ambitious example, must next engage in a task, just as arduous!—a reformation of petticoats!—But to be serious, Mr.
Blunt.
—I own I'm idle—not because I love idleness; but, because I dare not think—whoring I abhor—tho' necessity obliges me sometimes to practice it—and when the few friends with whom I really can enjoy an hour, happen to be out o'the way; you would pity me, if you knew how distrest I am—I have (hungry, as I am) shun'd half a dozen opportunities this same evening, of feasting and carousing!—but to go amidst such debauchery and rioting, as yet my stomach rises against.
Well, JENNY—I do pity thee—I must give thee a bit of supper—but tell me, how came you to fall out with Lord
Scratch?
Why,
Blunt,
I'll be honest and tell you—Although I was actually faithful to
Scratch
while I lived at his expence, yet I never lik'd him—Where one does not like—they cannot give pleasure—he conceited himself the prettiest little fellow in the world—and expected to be courted by a thousand sort of amorous blandishments, that I could not force myself to divert him with—he grew also cool—mutual indifference ensued!—When my dear undoer came to town—I long'd to repeat the act of my ruin!—In fine, without the least anger, we parted just as decently as we met.
Why i'faith, JENNY! thou art as ill calculated for a wanton, as any of thy profession I ever knew.
Dear
Blunt!
don't for love's sake, call it a profession; those who make a profession of it—have the power or art, which you will, to please every body alike!—That I can't do—I have too quick sensations, and too much honesty to be a whore—I should for all the world, make just such another whore, as your friend
Jack Watcher
would make a courtier—He would like very well to enjoy all the pleasures, luxury and gaiety of a court; but he has too much honesty to purchase them by flattery and dissimulation.
Well said, JENNY!—Then you continue firm to
Watcher,
even in his troubles—that's another property seldom to be met with among the gay ladies! they I'm told have all deserted him on account of the impious
E—
on
W—
!
That's an E—. Mr.
Blunt,
I never saw—but if it contained any thing to the prejudice of women, I'll be sworn it was none of
Jack Watchers!
and as to its impiety—if he had been tried by the judge, before whom the hypocrites brought the woman that was caught in adultery—he had escaped as unhurt as she did!—Is there a b—p, p—r, or c—r among 'em all, think ye—that dared in conscience to have thrown the first stone?
Ha! he! he!—
[Exeunt.
SCENE,
Lord Shelter's House.
Curtain draws and discovers Lord
Wimple
and Lord
Shelter
as very serious.
My Lord—these things won't do!—I shall resign by heav'ns!—
But—pray, my Lord—
It is to no purpose to talk to me—what! to have the name of power—and of office; and by that means to pull down on my head the just resentment of an abused people; for barbarities wantonly committed upon them, not only without my consent, but contrary to my opinion—'tis too much—I won't suffer it.
Pray, my good Lord, be calm but for a moment—did ever any government bear patiently with such insult and lawless outrage as the present?—Where pray was it to end?—No man—not even the—himself could promise to enjoy one moment of peace, whilst those tumultuous harpies were permitted to assemble and ravage with impunity in the manner they have done, ever since the c—e —.
My Lord! I must insist upon it, that there were a thousand less desperate methods to be fallen upon, that would have pacified them much more effectually than by becoming rioters ourselves, and putting into the hands of irritated troops, the power of dealing death and destruction amongst an unarmed multitude.—
Watcher,
obstinate as he is, has better sense, than to have encouraged his followers to proceed to the commission of any ravages, which must rather have created him enemies than friends.
Well! my Lord—but 'tis now over—and can't be helpt—don't let us by differing among ourselves, give our enemies the advantage of laughing at us—We can set the pens of prostitution at work, to aggravate the madness of the people into a semblance of rebellion! and by that means make the rest of the nation imagine that a little military discipline was absolutely necessary.
My Lord! you are in the scrape—get yourselves out of it as well as you can—I'll keep my hands clean of it—but I will meddle in none of your affairs, until I can see that by some sensible means or other you have appeased the wrath of an abused people—In every other thing—I am at his m—s service.
Well—my Lord—I hope we shall be able to cook it upto your lordship's satisfaction—Adieu!
End of the Second Act.
ACT III. SCENE I.
The Street—divers parties of people are seen discontentedly moving to and fro.
COME on boys—huzza,
Watcher
—huzza
Liberty
—d—n
Botch
—d—n m—y—down with them—huzza! revenge! revenge!
Huzza boys—let's from one end of the town to t'other—and if that won't do from one end of the nation to t'other—huzza—E— blood cruelly spilt by butchering S—! revenge—revenge—huzza!
Watcher
for ever! huzza—liberty for ever, huzza—a—a—
Revenge!—revenge!—huzza—
To them
HONESTY
and
BLUNT.
Huzza! liberty for ever!—huzza—But hear me—Brave neighbours and fellow citizens:—let us think how we may best obtain our revenge—don't let us run our heads against a wall; and by rashness here, give our enemies an advantage in other parts of the n—n—Let the whole n—n be first convinced of the wrongs we suffer—Let brave
Watcher
patiently and with perseverance bear the course of law.—Think, that in the eyes of the rest of mankind, who know not all that we do, that you hurt the cause of our champion;—our enemies try to make the world believe—that we have no other views than to protect
Watcher
from the judgment of a l—l c—t—That we frighten the hand of justice by outrage and depredations—These falshoods, create enemies to him and to our glorious cause—the cause of liberty!—Let us be more regular and peaceable—and study to gain friends in place of enemies—The rigour of l—may—for a little time keep
patriotism
in
chains
—but it dare not destroy it—The greatest l—l severity must in course come to an end—then—then—
Watcher
will be
free!
—Then he will have in his power to put himself lawfully at our head—and to exert all the power of unfettered patriotism for the redemption of his groaning country.—Then—then—my friends—will be the time to revenge her, and your injuries—Then huzza—huzza—for ever—
Watcher
and
liberty!
Huzza—huzza—huzza—
D—n'd good sense—Tom.
Ay—that's the barber!
Ay—ay—d—me, let's go home, mind our business, and get more strength and more money to support
Jack
when he is free, bravely to fight our cause for us!—
Watcher
and
Liberty
for ever!—huzza—huzza—huzza.
[The mob severally retire.
I'faith, friend
Blunt,
that little harangue of yours has had a better effect, and done more good in five minutes, than all the m—l force of the kingdom could have effected in a week.
Why, I'll tell thee
Honesty.
—I say nothing but what are in reality the sentiments of
Watcher
himself—In the beginning of his endeavours here—popular appearances were necessary for him, to supply the defections of those affected patriots who had formerly flattered him with their eternal protection.—He found, after he had risked all, and spent all, in pursuit of the very schemes they had concerted with him, that they had fallen off, and become so luke-warm, that unless he should be able to inspirit the public with a just sense of his and their own oppressions, he must fall a sacrifice to real merit—he therefore, did not at first discourage their cabals; but as no man is more anxious than he, to preserve order and harmony in the community, and knowing very well the dangerous effects of popular fury; he has laboured with as much zeal to moderate their resentments, as he nobly intends to employ for the redress of their grievances!
But pray tell me,
Blunt!
have his lately so great and powerful friends actually abandoned him.
Not entirely abandoned him,—that's what for their own sakes, at least for the sake of that popularity on which they would still fain plume themselves; they dare hardly do.—They continue I believe to contribute towards his expence—but for his noble and spirited measures, they leave him to struggle through them the best way he can.—They will not consent, I imagine, that he be too rigorously handled; but they will as little concur with him in bringing to justice those tools of A—n who have disgraced and plundered the nation, to aggrandize themselves, and to crush the efforts of true patriotism.
By my soul—
Blunt!
—I always feared it would be so—And yet, who could have thought it?—Who, for example to have heard the patriotic declamations of an orator
Chatwell,
while a c—r!—could have believed, he would ever submit to that degenerated inactivity, in which they now rock him to sleep.
Chatwell
's degeneracy does by no means surprize me, I have ever lookt upon him to be the vainest of all men!—his best hopes were, from the beginning, founded in the people's applause; that he courted; that he obtained; and he has made a good account of it.—The amazing success which crown'd his a—n, made him the idol of the people, who would not see how greedily he adorned himself with ornaments of which he often spoiled the real purchaser; no man in these days dared to contradict him, and he therefore assumed every glory to himself.
Why
Blunt
—all that's but too true—nor did I begrudge him at that time any honour
he graspt at—I regarded him as the saviour of a sinking state, and thought the more honour he acquired, the more he should have it in his power to distribute justice.—
Yes, justice!—what justice pray did he attain for the honest q—I forgot his name—but who from pure publick spiritedness—threw himself out of a thriving trading company—Plan'd the attempt upon
S—l
—spent every shilling he had industriously gained, that he might convince the M—y of his sincerity—assisted or at least directed, in the operations which conquered it,—came home big with the hopes of grateful acknowledgments from so patriotic an A—n.—These hopes, not founded on imagination only, but in written holograph assurances under the hand of the great patriot himself—and did not
Chatwell
nevertheless, not only assume to himself the whole merit of that scheme, but would fain have retracted his promises—and because the honest q—, unschool'd in the science of politicks, would not belye himself, and suffer the whole honour of the project to be ascribed solely to
Chatwell,
—did not
Chatwell
in place of rewarding, neglect, and insult him?—And as I'm well assured, had it not been for the generosity and truly patriotick application of Lord
Shelter,
the S—y, who solicited and obtained a pension for the original contriver of that conquest,—then in very deep distress—the resentment of
Chatwell
would have left the cheated q—, to have lamented in indigence the folly of a merchant, having forsook trade, to spend a fortune in the publick service!
I have indeed heard as much—and farther—that although to demonstration, there never was a better concerted plan—yet—that unless it had been countenanced and enforced by Lord
H—,
all the q—'s fervency never could have moved the spirit of A—n, to have carried it into execution.—
I believe that's true—for
H—
was certainly the first who adopted it, and as far as he had influence promoted it—
H
—is no bad man:—and I wish the execution of the d—d g— w— had fallen to any other m—r's share than his.
Well—but pray, tell me, what did the q— get by it at last?
Why—he got a pension—I don't know how much—but I'mtold—little more than sufficient to pay up the very debt he was obliged to contract, during the time he was soliciting it.
Well,
Blunt
—and if
Chatwell,
now that he is again in A—n does not exert himself, to repair at least, a fortune, so sequester'd to the publick use—may—
Ay!—may the next fool, that spends a shilling in such a service, be hang'd—as well as—beggar'd.
But tell me
Blunt
—might not the fate of the q— have served as a beacon to your friend
Jack Watcher?
Friend
Honesty
—the case is extremely different—The q— for the service of his country, had but one single object in view—upon the fate of that, he was willing to peril his life and all he was worth;—but it was still in the character of a merchant—if his project failed he was undone—if it succeeded, he hoped to avail himself, by some preference in the commercial way.—
Watcher
's enthusiasm is of quite another fort—he penetrates into the bowels of a—n, he sees by what poison it has been infected—he is anxious to purge it—and will rather die, than leave it unrestored to its primitive constitution—he has abilities and perseverance—And while he breathes, he will flatter himself with being upheld by honest men.—That, at length, if not in the c— at least in the s—, he may be the terror of evil doers—Amen—so be it
If patriots dauntless—for their country bleed,
Reward, tho' late—will certainly succeed.
[Exeunt.
SCENE
changes and discovers Lord
Botch
and Lord
Mansupple,
extremely serious.
And what does your lordship think may be the consequence?
My lord! I'm sorry to tell it you, but it is truly my private opinion, that the master j—e, the o—rs, who gave orders to fire, and the rascals who left their stations, deserve all to be hanged!—
It must not be—or by G—d, I'm undone—If these poor fellows, who only acted under superior order, are given up—The whole army will be as much incensed, as the people are now!—My dear Lord—think how you may but screen us for this once; and I'll promise you that there never shall be any thing again countenanced on my part, without your lordship's advice.
Why, my Lord, you never put a more difficult task upon me; if we had consented to take bail for
Watcher
—we might with some colour of justice have bailed the s—, and then the worst would have been a forfeiture of the bail:—But how in equity can we accept the bail of
wilful murderers!
—after having rejected it, in the case of ludicrous publications, will be something so repugnant to common sense, that every porter has judgment to reason upon the impropriety.—In a word, my Lord, they must be tried—and if condemned—you may obtain a pardon for them.
That will never do;—We most not impose such a hardship upon the—, he begins to think for himself—and his humane soul, is so resolutely inaccessible, to the most powerful intercessions in the case of murder, that the greatest favourites at c—t, would hazard their reputation, by the application.
My Lord! I have every disposition in the world for your service; but you know how much the eyes of mankind are upon me; and therefore I will by no means condescend to take upon me the burthen of an affair which would make my name stink in their opinion. Pray have you talkt to the a—y g—l upon this subject?
My Lord, I have not—but I'm certain he will not hesitate a moment, to do any thing he may do, consistently with his office.
Then the greatest difficulty is over—murder is one of the pl— of the c—.—Let a well-timed petition be presented—prepare the a— g— for it—And, if no objection is made, the thing will go of course, as if the j— knew nothing at all of the matter.
My Lord, I go about it—your most obedient!
[Exit.
That unhappy man! by warping himself into a power he ne'er was equal to—has formed for himself a bed of thorns, whereon he'll be restless all his life!—
Enter
Constable,
four guards dragging in some common people, and amongst others
Jenny.
My Lord—may it please your lordship—here are some rioters, catched in the very fact!—Will your lordship be so good as order them to the B—, or to N—?
Not so fast friend! pray let me first know what fact they were caught in?
Why, my Lord! in no less, than the rebellious fact of roaring out
Watcher
and
Liberty!
—
And pray, good master Constable, what bad consequence attended the crying out
Watcher
and
Liberty?
Bad consequence!—is not
Watcher
and
Liberty
consequence sufficient? is not
Watcher
and
Liberty
a heinous sin?
No master constable, there is no more sin in the words
Watcher
and
Liberty!
than there is common sense in the word
Constable
—It is according as they are employed, that they are useful, or troublesome, to the community.—And I am afraid that you are as much mistaken in having brought these people before me; as they are mistaken in neglecting their business to cry out
Watcher
and
Liberty
—
(to
Jenny
)
and pray madam how comes a gentlewoman of your appearance to be amongst the rest.
For saying, my Lord! what I imagine your Lordship thinks—That this wiseacre of a constable, was—a fool!—I was accidentally passing by, saw these people, in no other act of rioting, than laughing and singing something about
Watcher
and
Liberty;
and this sagacious gentleman having laid hold of them—I did tell him, that if he carried them before any judge, he would be laughed at for a fool!—So! madam, says the constable—you are a
Watcherite
too—along, along! you shall go with the rest!—Thus, my Lord, I have the honour to be presented to your lordship.
Pray, Sir, why is this gentlewoman brought here?
Why? my Lord—I think, she's hanged by her own confession!—does she not own that she called a civil magistrate a fool, in the due execution of his office?
My good friend—It is not possible, in every case to suppress the truth—I'm afraid—when a constable acts foolishly—one may call him a fool—without incurring the censure of the law—let me advise you for your own sake to carry for the future, such offenders before some of the acting j— s— don't trouble me with them.—And in the mean time, you had best step in some where with these honest people, and take a reconciling pot, lest it should be put into their heads, to ask some questions about unlawful detention.—So, go about your business.
[The people go out hallowing—huzza—
Watcher
and
Liberty
for ever, huzza!—
Mansupple
and
Jenny.
Jenny
courtesying, offers to go.
You had best stop a moment, my dear!—let the croud be gone before you expose yourself among 'em!
Your lordship's very obliging—but I have nothing to fear, except from such brutes as that there constable.
I imagine not, madam!—men of larger abilities—would hardly terrify so pretty a creature as you
(aside)
"egad she's handsome."
My Lord!
I say my dear—That men of the best understandings, are generally too partial to the sex; not to desire, rather to please, than frighten those so capable of charming!—
Your Lordship's very good—And though your observation's rather favourable—It is not, I imagine, altogether unjust: for where will you find a gentleman of livelier parts than my opprest friend
Jack Watcher!
and surely our sex never had reason to doubt of his benevolence for 'em!
So madam!—I find at length, you are a well wisher to Mr.
Watcher!
—
Yes, my Lord—I avow it—and if your Lordship!—I mean—if every body would speak their sentiments as honestly as I do mine;
Watcher
would have avoided a great deal of distress, and your Lordship a great deal of trouble.
Come, come, madam! no politics!—Politics methinks comes as awkwardly from the lips of a fine woman as love would come from the lips of an old judge.
And so, my Lord!—you would have me lay aside my awkwardness!—that your Lordship might put on yours!—but as the one subject could not be more disgustful to your lordship—than the other would to me—Your Lordship will please to excuse me,—my Lord I'm yours.
[Exit.
To that strange inconsistence can that same foolish passion lead a man? When neither decency, situation, nor age, are able to withstand its temptations!—There's that little sly minx, after assuming every inviting leer of dissembled wantonness, has at last walkt her ways unmov'd, that she may divert herself amongst her companions at the expence of my character—so much for the stupidity of a constable.
[Exit.
SCENE
changes, discovers a crowd of men and women—pulling and hawling a raw S—.
D—n ye! who are you for then? speak!
The deevel's i the weemen! wat woud ye be at?
Trounce the dog! trounce him! Moll!
Speak ye fool! can't ye say
Watcher
and
Liberty,
and then you may go about your business.—
I'll say leeberty! as fast and as lood: as ony o'ye—but I dinna lyke
Watcher
—he's d—d a my coontry! if ye're a for leeberty! why dinna ye gi me my leeberty?—
Souse him! souse him! he's an obstinate dog!
You blockead had not you better speak one word to get off, than to be pull'd and hawl'd about so?
Speak you cub you—cry—down with
Botch
—up
Watcher
and
Liberty!
huzza—
Ay, ay, doon wi
Botch!
—Doon wi
Botch!
I care nae mair for
Botch
than ony o'ye—Doon wi
Botch! leeberty—leeberty
—hurra.
Come, come, let the fellow alone—he's none of
Botch
's folks ye see.
D—
Botch!
what's
Botch
to me!
What friend, is not Lord
Botch
your countryman? has he not made ye all rich? and don't you love him for that?
Made us a' ritch! I say ritch too! I'll tell ye neebers—ye ne'er was mair mistaken in a your life—My maister's maister is a parliament mon, and I hiv hard him say, that except it be for his awn saimely or neer connecksion, and for twa or three graceless yung cheels lyke a H— and a W— that were chaced oot o' the country, and wha wanted to mak him a G— or a K— at least that he ne'er did gued to any body—Thae cheels, they say, gat in sae meickle about him, that they wadna let ony body come neer him, but what they lykt. In short lods! they say, that thae upstart cheels wanted as mutch to leed him by the noase, as he led—his maister!
Hear him! hear him! i'faith
Sawney
's no senseless fellow!—Speak on
Sawney!
you're a good honest lad.
They ca' me
Donald,
I'se tell ye, and yet deel a bane i
Botches
skin do I lyke for a' hat, my maister says, that a S— might ha' been hard at the good old D— of N—s ten times sooner, than coud sae muckle as see Lord
Botch
once! for he was ay sae barracaded we thae idle flattering cheels, that nae body that was better than themsels, wod get neer him—And it is them they say, that's made a' the S— sae ill spoken of in this muckle toon.
Well said,
Sawney!
and I will tell you,
Sawney! Donald
I mean, that that may be the reason why honest
Watcher
hates Lord
Botch
so much, for it is only him, and such S— as you speak of, that he dislikes.
Is it sae? then i'se be for
Watcher
as weil as the best o' ye!—huzza—a—a—
Watcher Leeberty
for ever, huzza—a—a.
Watcher
and
Liberty
for ever! huzza—a—a—.
Chorus of signing and dancing—to the tune of Over the Hills and far away.
With
Donald—Jack
shall quaff a pot
They're fools! who
all
—for
one
disdain,
Let neither
Rose,
nor
Thistle
rot,
We'll all untie the
Patriots
chain.
Then peace shall smile on H—'s reign.
And discord shall be chas'd away,
The S— shall with the E— join,
To banish upstart rogues away.
Over the hills, and far away.
FINIS.
The SCENE at page 33, and the last Scene, rendered into intelligible English, for the benefit of such readers who are unacquainted with the S—.
D—n me, Donald—I have done for that young rebel!
You! C— your blood!—it was me that finished his E— soul!—Son of a bitch—he bawled for liberty too!—he will bawl no more Archibald! I will answer for that!—
So d—n me, you would have all the honour of it? I will be c—but I fir'd first!
No matter for that—it was my double bullets that put an end to his quaking!
No!—Gad—Donald, if you come that, the captain himself gave the last touch!
What the d—the matter, man, who it was, it is done—and if we had but our own h—r —ts here—by G—d we might send all the E— souls of them to follow his.
Hold your tongue—man—there comes the Colonel, he is no great friend to Lord
Botch
—d—n him, he likes the E— too well.
SCENE
the last.
The devil's in the women, what would you be at?
Trounce the dog!—Trounce him, Moll—
Speak you fool! can't you say
Watcher
and
Liberty,
and then you may go about your business.
I will say
Liberty!
as fast and as loud as any of you, but I do not like
Watcher
—he has d—d all my country!—If you are for
Liberty!
why don't you give me my liberty?
Souse him! souse him!—he's an obstinate dog!
You blockhead had not you better speak one word and get off, than to be pulled and hauled about so.
Speak you cub you—cry, down with
Botch
—up
Watcher
and
Liberty!
huzza—a—
Aye! aye!—down with
Botch!
—Down with
Botch!
I care no more for
Botch
than any of ye?—Down with
Botch!
Liberty! Liberty!—huzza—a—
Come, come! let the fellow alone—he's none of
Botcher
's folks ye see.
D—n
Botch!
—What is
Botch
to me?
What friend, is not Lord
Botch
your countryman? has he not made ye all rich?—And don't you love him for that?
Made us rich!—I say rich too!—I'll tell ye neighbours, ye never were more mistaken in all your lives! my master's master is a member of parliament, and I have heard him say, that except it has been for his own family, or near connections, and two or three graceless young fellows, such as a H—, and a W—n, that were chased out of the country, and who wanted to make him a G— or at least a k—g! that he never did good to any body! These fellows, they say, gained so much upon him, that they would let no mortal get access to him, but whom they thought fit!—In short, my friends, 'tis said, that these upstarts wanted as much to lead him by the nose, as 'twas said—he led—his master!—And let me tell ye, that the true blue (or honest whigs) of my country, little as ye think of them, tho' they despise the upstarts, are nevertheless thankful to God, that they had better luck than their patron; for they got up themselves, whilst he tumbled down!
Hear him!—hear him!—i'faith
Sawney
's no senseless fellow—speak on
Sawney!
your are a good honest lad.
They call me
Donald,
I'll tell you, and yet the devil a bone in
Botch
's body do I love for all that! my master says, that a S— might have been heard at the good old D— of N—s ten times sooner, than he could have once admittance to Lord
Botch!
for he was always so strongly barricaded with these idle flattering fellows, that no body that was better than themselves could get near him! and it is them they say, that has made all the S— be so ill spoken of in this great city.
Well said
Sawney!
and I will tell you
Sawney! Donald
I mean, that it may be for the same reason, that honest
Watcher
so much hates Lord
Botch!
for it is only him, and such S— as you speak of that he dislikes.—
Is it so? then I will be for
Watcher
as well as the best of ye! huzza—a—
Watcher
and
Liberty
for ever? huzza—a—a—
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