Chapter VII: Act I: SCENE The Park (3)

_Miran._ Good lack, good lack! what Tricks are there in this World!

_Enter _Scentwell_, with a Diamond Necklace in her Hand; not seeing
Sir _Francis_._

_Scentw._ Madam, be pleas'd to tye this Neck-lace on; for I can't get it into the-- (_Seeing Sir _Francis_._

_Miran._ The Wench is a Fool, I think! cou'd you not have carry'd it to be mended, without putting it in the Box?

Sir _Fran._ What's the matter?

_Miran._ Only Dear'e, I bid her, I bid her--Your ill Usage has put every thing out of my Head. But won't you go, _Gardee_, and find out these Fellows, and have them punish'd! and, and--

Sir _Fran._ Where shou'd I look them, Child? No I'll sit me down contented with my Safety, nor stir out of my own Doors, till I go with thee to a Parson.

_Miran._ (_Aside._) If he goes into his Closet I am ruin'd. Oh! bless me in this Fright, I had forgot Mrs. _Patch_.

_Patch._ Ay, Madam, and I stay for your speedy Answer.

_Miran._ (_Aside._) I must get him out of the House. Now assist me Fortune.

Sir _Fran._ Mrs. _Patch_, I profess I did not see you, how dost thou do, Mrs. _Patch_; well don't you repent leaving my _Chargee?_

_Patch._ Yes, every body must love her--but I came now--Madam, what did I come for, my Invention is at the last Ebb. (_Aside to _Miranda_._

Sir _Fran._ Nay, never Whisper, tell me.

_Miran._ She came, dear _Gardee_ to invite me to her Lady's Wedding, and you shall go with me _Gardee_, 'tis to be done this Moment to a _Spanish_ Merchant; Old Sir _Jealous_ keeps on his Humour, the first Minute he sees her, the next he marries her.

Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, I'd go if I thought the sight of Matrimony wou'd tempt _Chargee_ to perform her Promise: There was a smile, there was a consenting Look with those pretty Twinklers, worth a Million. Ods precious, I am happier than the Great _Mogul_, the Emperour of _China_, or all the Potentates that are not in Wars. Speak, confirm it, make me leap out of my Skin.

_Miran._ When one has resolv'd, 'tis in vain to stand shall I, shall I, if ever I marry, positively this is my Wedding Day.

Sir _Fran._ Oh! happy, happy Man--Verily I will beget a Son, the first Night shall disinherit that Dog, _Charles_. I have Estate enough to purchase a Barony, and be the immortalizing the whole Family of the Gripes.

_Miran._ Come then _Gardee_, give me thy Hand, let's to this House of _Hymen_. _My Choice is fix'd, let good or ill betide,_

Sir _Fran._
_The joyful Bridegroom, I_

_Miran._
_And I the happy Bride._

(Exeunt.

_Enter Sir _Jealous_ meeting a Servant._

_Serv._ Sir, here's a couple of Gentlemen enquire for you; one of 'em calls himself _Seignor Diego Babinetto_.

Sir _Jeal._ Ha! _Seignor Babinetto!_ Admit 'em instantly--Joyful Minute; I'll have my Daughter marry'd to Night.

_Enter _Charles_ in _Spanish_ Habit, with Sir _George_ drest like a
Merchant._

Sir _Jeal._ Senior, beso Las Manos vuestra merced es muy bien venido en esta tierra.

_Char._ Senhor, soy muy humilde, y muy obligado Cryado de vuestra merced: Mi Padre Embia a vuestra merced, los mas profondos de sus respetos; y a Commissionado este Mercadel Ingles, de concluyr un negocio, que me Haze el mas dichoso hombre del mundo, Haziendo me su yerno.

Sir _Jeal._ I am glad on't, for I find I have lost much of my _Spanish_. Sir, I am your most humble Servant. _Seignor Don Diego Babinetto_ has inform'd me that you are Commission'd by _Seignor Don Pedro_, &c. his worthy Father.

Sir _Geo._ To see an Affair of Marriage Consummated between a Daughter of yours, and _Seignor Diego Babinetto_ his Son here. True, Sir, such a Trust is repos'd in me as that Letter will inform you. I hope 'twill pass upon him. (_Aside._) (_Gives him a Letter._

Sir _Jeal._ Ay, 'tis his Hand.
(_Seems to read._

Sir _Geo._ Good ---- you have counterfeited to a Nicety, _Charles._
(_Aside to _Charles_._

_Char._ If the whole Plot succeeds as well, I'm happy.

Sir _Jeal._ Sir I find by this, that you are a Man of Honour and Probity; I think, Sir, he calls you _Meanwell_.

Sir _Geo._ _Meanwell_ is my Name, Sir.

Sir _Jeal._ A very good Name, and very Significant.

_Char._ Yes, Faith if he knew all.
(_Aside._

Sir _Jeal._ For to Mean-well is to be honest, and to be honest is the Virtue of a Friend, and a Friend is the Delight and Support of Human Society.

Sir _Geo._ You shall find that I'll Discharge the part of a Friend in what I have undertaken, Sir _Jealous_.

_Char._ But little does he think to whom.
(_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ Therefore, Sir, I must intreat the Presence of your fair Daughter, and the Assistance of your Chaplain; for _Seignor Don Pedro_ strictly enjoyn'd me to see the Marriage Rites perform'd as soon as we should arrive, to avoid the Accidental Overtures of _Venus_.

Sir _Jeal._ Overtures of _Venus!_

Sir _Geo._ Ay, Sir, that is, those little Hawking Females that traverse the Park, and the Play-house to put off their damag'd Ware--they fasten upon Foreigners like Leeches, and watch their Arrival as carefully, as the _Kentish_ Men do a Ship-wreck. I warrant you they have heard of him already.

Sir _Jeal._ Nay, I know this Town swarms with them.

Sir _Geo._ Ay, and then you know the _Spaniards_ are naturally Amorous, but very Constant, the first Face fixes 'em, and it may be dangerous to let him ramble e'er he is tied.

_Char._ Well hinted.
(_Aside._

Sir _Jeal._ Pat to my Purpose--Well, Sir, there is but one thing more, and they shall be married instantly.

_Char._ Pray Heaven, that one thing more don't spoil all.
(_Aside._

Sir _Jeal._ _Don Pedro_ writ me Word in his last but one, that he design'd the Sum of Five Thousand Crowns by way of Joynture for my Daughter; and that it shou'd be paid into my Hand upon the Day of Marriage.

_Char._ Oh! the Devil.
(_Aside._

Sir _Jeal._ In order to lodge it in some of our Funds, in case she should become a Widow, and return for _England_.

Sir _Geo._ Pox on't, this is an unlucky Turn. What shall I say?
(_Aside._

Sir _Jeal._ And he does not mention one Word of it in this Letter.

_Char._ I don't know how he should.
(_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ Humph! True, Sir _Jealous_, he told me such a Thing, but, but, but, but--he, he, he, he--he did not imagine that you would insist upon the very Day, for, for, for, for Money you know is dangerous returning by Sea, an, an, an, an--

_Char._ Zounds, say we have brought it in Commodities.
(_Aside to Sir_ George.

Sir _Geo._ And so Sir, he has sent it in Merchandize, _Tobacco_, _Sugars_, _Spices_, _Limons_, and so forth, which shall be turn'd into Money with all Expedition: In the mean time, Sir, if you please to accept of my Bond for Performance.

Sir _Jeal._ It is enough, Sir, I am so pleas'd with the Countenance of _Seignor Diego_, and the Harmony of your Name, that I'll take your Word, and will fetch my Daughter this Moment. Within there (_Enter Servant_) desire Mr. _Tackum_ my Neighbour's Chaplain to walk hither.

_Serv._ Yes, Sir.
(_Exit._

Sir _Jeal._ Gentlemen, I'll return in an Instant.
(_Exit._

_Char._ Wondrous well. Let me embrace thee.

Sir _Geo._ Egad that 5000 _l._ had like to have ruin'd the Plot.

_Char._ But that's over! And if Fortune throws no more Rubs in our way.

Sir _Geo._ Thou'lt carry the Prize--but hist, here he comes.

_Enter Sir _ Jealous_, dragging in _Isabinda_._

Sir _Jeal._ Come along, you stubborn Baggage you, come along.

_Isab._
Oh hear me, Sir! hear me but speak one Word,
Do not destroy my everlasting Peace;
My Soul abhors this _Spaniard_ you have chose
Nor can I wed him without being curst.

Sir _Jeal._ How's that!

_Isab._
Let this Posture move your tender Nature. (_Kneels._
For ever will I hang upon these Knees;
Nor loose my Hands till you cut off my hold,
If you refuse to hear me, Sir.

_Char._ Oh! that I cou'd discover my self to her.
(_Aside_

Sir _Geo._ Have a care what you do. You had better trust to his Obstinacy. (_Aside_

Sir _Jeal._ Did you ever see such a perverse Slut: Off I say Mr. _Meanwell_ pray help me a little.

Sir _Geo._ Rise, Madam, and do not disoblige your Father, who has provided a Husband worthy of you, one that will Love you equal with his Soul, and one that you will Love, when once you know him.

_Isab._ Oh! never, never. Cou'd I suspect that Falshood in my Heart, I wou'd this Moment tear it from my Breast, and streight present him with the Treacherous Part.

_Char._ Oh! my charming faithful Dear.
(_Aside._

Sir _Jeal._ Falshood! why, who the Devil are you in Love with? Ha! Don't provoke me, for by St. _Jago_ I shall beat you, Housewife.

_Char._ Heaven forbid; for I shall infallibly discover my self if he should. (_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ Have Patience, Madam! and look at him: Why will you prepossess your self against a Man that is Master of all the Charms you would desire in a Husband?

Sir _Jeal._ Ay, look at him, _Isabinda_, _Senior pase vind adelante._

_Char._ My Heart bleeds to see her grieve, whom I imagin'd would with Joy receive me. _Seniora obligue me vuestra merced de sumano._

Sir _Jeal._ (_Pulling up her Head._) Hold up your Head, hold up your Head, Housewife, and look at him: Is there a properer, handsomer, better shap'd Fellow in _England_, ye Jade you. Ha! see, see the obstinate Baggage shuts her Eyes; by St. _Jago_, I have a good Mind to beat 'em out. (_Pushes her down._

_Isab._
Do then, Sir, kill me, kill me instantly.
'Tis much the kinder Action of the Two,
For 'twill be worse than Death to wed him.

Sir _Geo._ Sir _Jealous_, you are too passionate. Give me leave, I'll try by gentle Words to work her to your Purpose.

Sir _Jeal._ I pray do, Mr. _Meanwell_, I pray do; she'll break my Heart. (_weeps_) There is in that, Jewels of the Value of 3000 _l._ which were her Mother's; and a Paper wherein I have settled one half of my Estate upon her now, and the whole when I dye. But provided she marries this Gentleman, else by St. _Jago_, I'll turn her out of Doors to beg or starve. Tell her this, Mr. _Meanwell_, pray do. (_Walks off._

Sir _Geo._ Ha! this is beyond Expectation--Trust to me, Sir, I'll lay the dangerous Consequence of disobeying you at this Juncture before her, I warrant you.

_Char._ A sudden Joy runs thro' my Heart like a propitious Omen.
(_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ Come, Madam, do not blindly cast your Life away just in the Moment you would wish to have it.

_Isab._ Pray cease your Trouble, Sir, I have no Wish but sudden Death to free me from this hated _Spaniard_. If you are his Friend inform him what I say; my Heart is given to another Youth, whom I love with the same strength of Passion that I hate this _Diego_; with whom, if I am forc'd to wed, my own Hand shall cut the Gordian Knot.

Sir _Geo._ Suppose this _Spaniard_ which you strive to shun should be the very Man to whom you'd flye?

_Isab._ Ha!

Sir _Geo._ Would you not blame your rash Result, and curse those Eyes that would not look on _Charles_.

_Isab._ On _Charles!_ Oh you have inspir'd new Life, and collected every wandring Sense. Where is he? Oh! let me flye into his Arms. (_Rises._

Sir _Geo._ Hold, hold, hold, 'Zdeath, Madam, you'll ruin all, your Father believes him to be _Seignor Barbinetto_. Compose your self a little, pray Madam. (_He runs to Sir _Jealous_._

_Char._ Her Eyes declare she knows me.
(_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ She begins to hear Reason, Sir, the fear of being turn'd out of Doors has done it. (_Runs back to_ Isabinda.

_Isab._ 'Tis he, oh! my ravish'd Soul.

Sir _Geo._ Take heed, Madam, you don't betray your self. Seem with Reluctance to consent, or you are undone, (_runs to Sir _Jealous_._) speak gently to her, Sir, I'm sure she'll yield, I see it in her Face.

Sir _Jeal._ Well, _Isabinda_, can you refuse to bless a Father, whose only Care is to make you happy, as Mr. _Meanwell_ has inform'd you. Come, wipe thy Eyes; nay, prithee do, or thou wilt break thy Father's Heart; see thou bring'st the Tears in mine to think of thy undutiful Carriage to me. (_Weeps._

_Isab._ Oh! do not weep, Sir, your Tears are like a Ponyard to my Soul; do with me what you please, I am all Obedience.

Sir _Jeal._ Ha! then thou art my Child agen.

Sir _Geo._ 'Tis done, and now Friend the Day's thy own.

_Char._ The happiest of my Life, if nothing Intervene.

Sir _Jeal._ And wilt thou love him?

_Isab._ I will endeavour it, Sir.

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ Sir, Here is Mr. _Tackum_.

Sir _Jeal._ Show him into the Parlour--_Senior tome vind sueipora; cete Momenta les Junta les Manos._ (_Gives her to_ Charles.

_Char._ Oh! transport--_Senior yo la recibo Como se deve un Tesoro tan Grande._ Oh! my Joy, my Life, my Soul. (_Embrace._

_Isab._ My Faithful everlasting Comfort.

Sir _Jeal._ Now, Mr. _Meanwell_ let's to the Parson,
_Who, by his Art will join this Pair for Life,_
_Make me the happiest Father, her the happiest Wife._
(_Exit._

SCENE Changes to the Street before Sir _Jealous_'s Door.

_Enter _Marplot_, Solus._

_Marpl._ I have hunted all over the Town for _Charles_, but can't find him; and by _Whisper_'s scouting at the End of the Street, I suspect he must be in this House again. I'm inform'd too that he has borrow'd a _Spanish_ Habit out of the _Play-house_. What can it mean?

_Enter a Servant of Sir _Jealous_'s to him, out of the House._

Hark'e, Sir, do you belong to this House?

_Serv._ Yes, Sir.

_Marpl._ Pray can you tell if there be a Gentleman in it in _Spanish_ Habit?

_Serv._ There is a _Spanish_ Gentleman within, that is just a going to marry my young Lady, Sir.

_Marpl._ Are you sure he is a _Spanish_ Gentleman?

_Serv._ I'm sure he speaks no _English_, that I hear of.

_Marpl._ Then that can't be him I want; for 'tis an _English_ Gentleman, tho' I suppose he may be dress'd like a _Spaniard_, that I enquire after.

_Serv._ Ha! who knows but this may be an Impostor? I'll inform my Master; for if he shou'd be impos'd upon, he'll beat us all round. (_Aside._) Pray, come in, Sir, and see if this be the Person you enquire for.

SCENE Changes to the Inside the House.

_Enter _Marplot_._

_Marpl._ So, this was a good Contrivance: If this be _Charles_, now will he wonder how I found him out.

_Enter Servant and _Jealous_._

Sir _Jeal._ What is your earnest Business, Blockhead, that you must speak with me before the Ceremony's past? Ha! who's this?

_Serv._ Why this Gentleman, Sir, wants another Gentleman in _Spanish_ Habit, he says.

Sir _Jeal._ In _Spanish_ Habit! 'tis some Friend of Seignior _Don Diego_'s, I warrant. Sir, I suppose you wou'd speak with Seignior _Barbinetto_--

_Marpl._ Hy-day! what the Devil does he say now!--Sir, I don't understand you.

Sir _Jeal._ Don't you understand _Spanish_, Sir?

_Marpl._ Not I indeed, Sir.

Sir _Jeal._ I thought you had known Seignior _Barbinetto_.

_Marpl._ Not I, upon my word, Sir.

Sir _Jeal._ What then you'd speak with his Friend, the _English_ Merchant, Mr. _Meanwell_.

_Marpl._ Neither, Sir; not I.

Sir _Jeal._ Why who are you then, Sir? and what do you want?
(_In an angry Tone._

_Marpl._ Nay, nothing at all, not I, Sir. Pox on him! I wish I were out, he begins to exalt his Voice, I shall be beaten agen.

Sir _Jeal._ Nothing at all, Sir! Why then what Business have you in my House? ha?

_Serv._ You said you wanted a Gentleman in _Spanish_ Habit.

_Marpl._ Why ay, but his Name is neither _Barbinetto_ nor _Meanwell_.

Sir _Jeal._ What is his Name then, Sirrah, ha? Now I look at you agen, I believe you are the Rogue threaten'd me with half a Dozen _Mirmidons_--Speak, Sir, who is it you look for? or, or--

_Marpl._ A terrible old Dog!--Why, Sir, only an honest young Fellow of my Acquaintance--I thought that here might be a Ball, and that he might have been here in a Masquerade; 'tis _Charles_, Sir _Francis Gripe_'s Son, because I know he us'd to come hither sometimes.

Sir _Jeal._ Did he so?--Not that I know of, I'm sure. Pray Heaven that this be Don _Diego_--If I shou'd be trick'd now--Ha! my Heart misgives me plaguily--within there! stop the Marriage--Run, Sirrah, call all my Servants! I'll be satisfy'd that this is Seignior _Pedro_'s Son e're he has my Daughter.

_Marpl._ Ha, Sir _George_, what have I done now ?

_Enter Sir _George_ with a drawn Sword between the Scenes._

Sir _Geo._ Ha! _Marplot_, here--Oh the unlucky Dog--what's the matter, Sir _Jealous?_

Sir _Jeal._ Nay, I don't know the matter, Mr._Meanwell_.

_Marpl._ Upon my Soul, Sir _George_--
(_Going up to Sir _Geo.__

Sir _Jeal._ Nay then, I'm betray'd, ruin'd, undone: Thieves, Traytors, Rogues! (_Offers to go in._) Stop the Marriage, I say--

Sir _Geo._ I say, go on Mr._Tackum_--Nay, no Ent'ring here, I guard this Passage, old Gentleman; the Act and Deed were both your own, and I'll see 'em sign'd, or die for't.

_Enter Servants._

Sir _Jeal._ A pox on the Act and Deed!--Fall on, knock him down.

Sir _Geo._ Ay, come on, Scoundrils! I'll prick your Jackets for you.

Sir _Jeal._ Z'ounds, Sirrah, I'll be Reveng'd on you.
(_Beats _Marplot_._

Sir _Geo._ Ay, there your Vengeance is due; Ha, ha.

_Marpl._ Why, what do you beat me for? I ha'nt marry'd your Daughter.

Sir _Jeal._ Rascals! why don't you knock him down?

_Serv._ We are afraid of his Sword, Sir; if you'll take that from him, we'll knock him down presently.

_Enter _Charles_ and _Isabinda_._

Sir _Jeal._ Seize her then.

_Char._ Rascals, retire; she's my Wife, touch her if you dare, I'll make Dogs meat of you.

Sir _Jeal._ Ah! downright _English_:--Oh, oh, oh, oh!

_Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_, _Mirand_, _Patch_, _Scentwell_,
and _Whisper_._

Sir _Fran._ Into the House of Joy we Enter without knocking: Ha! I think 'tis the House of Sorrow, Sir _Jealous_.

Sir _Jeal._ Oh Sir _Francis!_ are you come? What was this your Contrivance, to abuse, trick, and chouse me of my Child!

Sir _Fran._ My Contrivance! what do you mean?

Sir _Jeal._ No, you don't know your Son there in _Spanish_ Habit.

Sir _Fran._ How! my Son in _Spanish_ Habit. Sirrah, you'll come to be hang'd; get out of my sight, ye Dog! get out of my sight.

Sir _Jeal._ Get out of your sight, Sir! Get out with your Bags; let's see what you'll give him now to maintain my Daughter on.

Sir _Fran._ Give him! He shall be never the better for a Penny of mine--and you might have look'd after your Daughter better, Sir _Jealous_. Trick'd, quotha! Egad, I think you design'd to trick me: But look ye, Gentlemen, I believe I shall trick you both. This Lady is my Wife, do you see? And my Estate shall descend only to the Heirs of her Body.

Sir _Geo._ Lawfully begotten by me--I shall be extremely oblig'd to you, Sir _Francis_.

Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir _George!_ You see your Project was of no use. Does not your Hundred Pound stick in your Stomach? Ha, ha, ha.

Sir _Geo._ No faith, Sir _Francis_, this Lady has given me a Cordial for that. (_Takes her by the Hand._

Sir _Fran._ Hold, Sir, you have nothing to say to this Lady.

Sir _Geo._ Nor you nothing to do with my Wife, Sir.

Sir _Fran._ Wife, Sir!

_Miran._ Ay really, _Guardian_, 'tis even so. I hope you'll forgive my first Offence.

Sir _Fran._ What have you chous'd me out of my Consent, and your Writings then, Mistress, ha?

_Miran._ Out of nothing but my own, _Guardian_.

Sir _Jeal._ Ha, ha, ha, 'tis some Comfort at least to see you are over-reach'd as well as my self. Will you settle your Estate upon your Son now?

Sir _Fran._ He shall starve first.

_Miran._ That I have taken care to prevent. There, Sir, is the Writings of your Uncle's _Estate_, which has been your due these three Years. (_Gives _Char._ Papers._

_Char._ I shall study to deserve this Favour.

Sir _Fran._ What have you robb'd me too, Mistress! Egad I'll make you restore 'em.--Huswife, I will so.

Sir _Jeal._ Take care I don't make you pay the Arrears, Sir. 'Tis well it's no worse, since 'tis no better. Come, young Man, seeing thou hast out-witted me, take her, and Bless you both.

_Char._ I hope, Sir, you'll bestow your Blessing too, 'tis all I'll ask.
(_Kneels._

Sir _Fran._ Confound you all!
(_Exit._

_Marpl._ Mercy upon us! how he looks!

Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ne'er mind his Curses, _Charles_; thou'lt thrive not one jot the worse for 'em. Since this Gentleman is reconcil'd, we are all made happy.

Sir _Jeal._ I always lov'd Precaution, and took care to avoid Dangers. But when a thing was past, I ever had Philosophy to be easie.

_Char._ Which is the true sign of a great Soul: I lov'd your Daughter, and she me, and you shall have no reason to repent her Choice.

_Isab._ You will not blame me, Sir, for loving my own Country best.

_Marpl._ So here's every Body happy, I find, but poor _Pilgarlick_. I wonder what Satisfaction I shall have, for being cuff'd, kick'd, and beaten in your Service.

Sir _Jeal._ I have been a little too familiar with you, as things are fallen out; but since there's no help for't, you must forgive me.

_Marpl._ Egad I think so--But provided that you be not so familiar for the future.

Sir _Geo._ Thou hast been an unlucky Rogue.

_Marpl._ But very honest.

_Char._ That I'll vouch for; and freely forgive thee.

Sir _Geo._ And I'll do you one piece of Service more, _Marplot_, I'll take care that Sir _Francis_ make you Master of your Estate.

_Marpl._ That will make me as happy as any of you.

_Patch._ Your humble Servant begs leave to remind you, Madam.

_Isab._ Sir, I hope you'll give me leave to take _Patch_ into favour again.

Sir _Jeal._ Nay, let your Husband look to that, I have done with my Care.

_Char._ Her own Liberty shall always oblige me. Here's no Body but honest _Whisper_ and Mrs. _Scentwell_ to be provided for now. It shall be left to their Choice to Marry, or keep their Services.

_Whisp._ Nay then, I'll stick to my Master.

_Scentw._ Coxcomb! and I prefer my Lady before a Footman.

Sir _Jeal._ Hark, I hear Musick, the Fidlers smell a Wedding. What say you, young Fellows, will ye have a Dance?

Sir _Geo._ With all my Heart; call'em in.

A DANCE.

Sir _Jeal._ Now let us in and refresh our selves with a chearful Glass, in which we'll bury all Animosities: And

_By my Example let all Parents move,
And never strive to cross their Childrens Love;
But still submit that Care to Providence above._

FINIS

* * * * *
* * * *
* * * * *

The Editors of THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

are pleased to announce that

THE WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
of The University of California, Los Angeles

will become the publisher of the Augustan Reprints in May, 1949. The editorial policy of the Society will continue unchanged. As in the past, the editors will strive to furnish members inexpensive reprints of rare seventeenth and eighteenth century works.

Publications for the fourth year (1949-1950)

[Transcriber's Note: Many of the listed titles are or will be available from Project Gutenberg. Where possible, the e-text number is given in brackets.]

(_At least six items will be printed in the main from the following list_)

SERIES IV: MEN, MANNERS, AND CRITICS

John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681) [#15074] Daniel Defoe (?), _Vindication of the Press_ (1718) [#14084] _Critical Remarks on Sir Charles Grandison, Clarissa, and Pamela_ (1754)

SERIES V: DRAMA

Thomas Southerne, _Oroonoko_ (1696) Mrs. Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709) Charles Johnson, _Caelia_ (1733) Charles Macklin, _Man of the World_ (1781) [#14463]

SERIES VI: POETRY AND LANGUAGE

Andre Dacier, _Essay on Lyric Poetry_ _Poems_ by Thomas Sprat _Poems_ by the Earl of Dorset Samuel Johnson, _Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and one of the 1750 _Rambler_ papers. [#13350]

EXTRA SERIES:

Lewis Theobald, _Preface to Shakespeare's Works_ (1733) [#16346]

A few copies of the early publications of the Society are still available at the original rate.

GENERAL EDITORS

H. RICHARD ARCHER, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_ R.C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_ E.N. HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_ H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_

PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

First Year (1946-1947)

1. Richard Blackmore's _Essay upon Wit_ (1716), and Addison's
_Freeholder_ No. 45 (1716). (I, 1) [#13484]

2. Samuel Cobb's _Of Poetry_ and _Discourse on Criticism_ (1707).
(II, 1) [#14528]

3. _Letter to A.H. Esq.; concerning the Stage_ (1698), and Richard
Willis' _Occasional Paper No. IX_ (1698). (III, 1) [#14047]

4. _Essay on Wit_ (1748), together with Characters by Flecknoe, and
Joseph Warton's _Adventurer_ Nos. 127 and 133. (I, 2) [#14973]

5. Samuel Wesley's _Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry_ (1700) and
_Essay on Heroic Poetry_ (1693). (II, 2)

6. _Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage_ (1704)
and _Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage_ (1704). (III, 2) [#15656]

Second Year (1947-1948)

7. John Gay's _The Present State of Wit_ (1711); and a section on Wit
from _The English Theophrastus_ (1702). (I, 3) [#14800]

8. Rapin's _De Carmine Pastorali_, translated by Creech (1684). (II, 3)
[#14495]

9. T. Hanmer's (?) _Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet_ (1736).
(III, 3) [#14899]

10. Corbyn Morris' _Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit,
etc._ (1744). (I, 4) [#16233]

11. Thomas Purney's _Discourse on the Pastoral_ (1717). (II, 4) [#15313]

12. Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood
Krutch. (III, 4) [#16335]

Third Year (1948-1949)

13. Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), _The Theatre_ (1720). (IV, 1) [#15999]

14. Edward Moore's _The Gamester_ (1753). (V, 1) [#16267]

15. John Oldmixon's _Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley_
(1712); and Arthur Mainwaring's _The British Academy_ (1712).
(VI, 1)

16. Nevil Payne's _Fatal Jealousy_ (1673). (V, 2) [_in preparation_]

17. Nicholas Rowe's _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespear_
(1709). (Extra Series, 1) [#16275]

18. Aaron Hill's Preface to _The Creation_; and Thomas Brereton's
Preface to _Esther_. (IV, 2) [#15870]

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* * * * *

[Errors and Anomalies Noted by Transcriber:

Introduction (1949):
it is unreasonable to expect...
_text reads_ is it...

Dedication:
Lord-President of Her HAJESTY's most / Honourable Privy-Council.
_so in original_