INKLE AND YAKICO : 
 
 ASS ©puna, 
 
 IN THREE ACTS, 
 
 BY GEORGE COLMAN, ESQ. 
 
 Correctly given, as performed at the Theatres Royal 
 WITH REMARKS. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 PUBLISHED BY CHARLES WILEY, NO. 3 WALL STREET, AND 11. 
 
 C, CAREY, & I. LEA, AND MCCARTY & DAVIS, PHILADEL? 
 
 FHIA, AND SAML. H. HARPER, BOSTON, 
 
 vm, 
 
LIBRARY WW. OF 
 N6RIH CAR0UM 
 
 REMARKS, 
 
 The great success of this opera in every 
 theatre of the kingdom, since its first represen- 
 tation at the Hay market, is justified by its real 
 merit. The dialogue is not a collection of trite 
 common-places, to connect the music ; but is 
 replete with taste, judgment', and manly feel- 
 ing: — the allusions to slavery (now so nobly 
 abolished) correspond with every British, every 
 liberal, mind. The mal-a-propos offer of Inkle 
 to sell his Yarico to Sir Christopher, is an ad- 
 mirable incident ; and indeed all the characters 
 are so forcibly drawn, that the most trifling part 
 is|effective. 
 
 The pathetic story of Inkle and Yarico first 
 attracted sympathy, from the narrative of Mr. 
 Addison, in the Spectator : to that affecting 
 story, Mr. Colman was indebted only for the 
 cold, calculating, Inkle ; and the gentle, affec- 
 tionate Yarico : — the rest of the characters and 
 the developement of the story are the offspring 
 of his abundant invention* 
 
 B25185 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Covent Garden. Hay Market 
 Inkle Mr. Johnstone. Mr. J. Bannister. 
 
 Sir Christopher Curry Quick. Parsons. 
 
 Campley Davies. Davies. 
 
 Medium Wewitzer. Baddeley. 
 
 Trudge Edwin. Edwin. 
 
 Mate Darley. Meadows. 
 
 Yarico Mrs. Billington. Mrs. Kemble. 
 Narcissa Mountain. Bannister. 
 
 Wowski Martyr. Miss George. 
 
 Patty Rock Mrs. Forster. 
 
 SCENE.— First, on the Main of America; after- 
 wards, in Barkad&es. 
 
INKLE AND YARICO. 
 
 ACT THE FIRST. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 AN AMERICAN FOREST. 
 
 Med. (without) Hilli ho ! ho ! 
 
 Trudge, (without.) Hip ! hollo I ho !— Hip !■— 
 Enter Medium and Trudge. 
 
 Med. Pshclw ! its only wasting time and breath, 
 Bawling won't persuade him to budge a bit faster. 
 Things are all altered now ; and, whatever weight it 
 may have in some places, bawling, it seems, don't go 
 for argument here. Plague on't I we are now in the 
 wilds of America. 
 
 Trudge. Hip, hillio— ho— hi !— 
 
 Med. Hold your tongue, you blockhead, or— 
 
 Trudge. Lord I sir, if my master makes no more 
 haste, we shall all be put to sword by the knives of the 
 natives. Pm told they take off heads like hats, and 
 hang 'em on pegs in their parlours. Mercy on us ! 
 my head aches with the very thoughts of it. Holo I 
 Mr. Inkle ! master ; holo ! 
 
 Med. Head aches ! zounds, so does mine with your 
 confounded bawling. It's enough to bring all the na* 
 lives about us; and we shall be stripped and plundered 
 in a minute. 
 
 VOL. XIV, 
 
6 INKLE AND YARICO, act i. 
 
 Trudge. Aye; stripping is the first thing that would 
 happen to us; for they seem to be wofully off for a 
 wardrobe. I myself saw three, at a distance, with less 
 clothes than I have when I get out of bed : all dancing 
 about in black buff; just like Adam in mourning. 
 
 Med. This is to have to do with a schemer ! a fel- 
 low who risques his life, for a chance of advancing his 
 interest. — Always advantage in view ! trying, here, to 
 make discoveries that may promote his profit in Eng- 
 land. Another Botany Bay scheme, mayhap. Nothing 
 else could induce him to quit our foraging party, from 
 the ship ; when he knows every inhabitant here is not 
 only as black as a pepper-corn, but as hot into the 
 bargain — and I, like a tool, to follow him ! and then 
 to let him loiter behind. Why, nephew ! why, Inkle. 
 
 [calling. 
 Trudge. Why, Inkle — Well ! only to see the differ- 
 ence of men ! he'd have thought it very hard, now, if 
 I had let him call so often after me. Ah ! I wish he 
 was calling after me now, in the old jog-trot way, 
 again. What a fool was I, to leave London for foreign 
 parts I—That ever I should leave Threadneedle-street, 
 to thread an American forest, where a man's as soon 
 lost as a needle in a bottle of hay ! 
 
 Med. Patience, Trudge ! patience ! if we once re- 
 cover the ship — 
 
 Trudge. Lord, sir, I shall never recover what 1 
 have lost in coming abroad. When my master and I 
 were in London, I had such a mortal snug birth of it ! 
 why, i was factotum. 
 
 Med. Factotum to a young merchant is no such 
 sinecure, neither. 
 
 Trudge. But then the honour of it. Think of that, 
 sir ; to be clerk as well as own man. Only consider. 
 You find very few city clerks made out of a man, now- 
 a-days. To be king of the counting-house, as well as 
 lord q£ the bed-chamhex. Ah I if I had him but now 
 
scene i. AN OPERA. # 
 
 in the little dressing room behind the office ; tying his 
 hair, with a bit of red tape, as usual. 
 
 Med. Yes, or writing an invoice with lamp-black, 
 and shining his shoes with an ink bottle, as usual, you 
 blundering blockhead ! 
 
 Trudge. Oh ! if I was but brushing the accounts, ox- 
 casting up the coats ! mercy on us ! what's that ? 
 
 Med. That! what? 
 
 Trudge. Did'nt you hear a noise ? 
 
 Med. Y — es — but— hush ! Oh, heavens be praised! 
 here he is at last. 
 
 Enter Inkle. 
 Now nephew ? 
 
 Inkle. So, Mr. Medium. 
 
 Med. Zounds, one would think, by your cbnfounded 
 composure, that you were walking in St James's Park, 
 instead of an American Forest ; and that all the beasts 
 w T ere nothing but good company. The hollow trees, 
 here, centry boxes, and the lions in 'em soldiers; the 
 jackalls, courtiers : the crocodiles, fine women ; and 
 the baboons, beaus. What the plague made you goiter 
 so long ? 
 
 Inkle. Reflection. 
 
 Med. So I should think ; reflection generally comes 
 lagging behind. What, scheming, I suppose: never 
 quiet. At it again, eh : what, a happy trader is your 
 father, to have so prudent a son, for a partner! why, 
 you are the carefullest Co. in the whole city. Never 
 losing sight of the main chance ; and that's the reason, 
 perhaps, you lost sight of us, here, on the main of 
 America. 
 
 Inkle. Right, Mr. Medium. Arithmetic, I own, has 
 been the means of our parting at present. 
 
 Trudge. Ha ! a sum in division, I reckon, (aside. 
 
 Med. And pray, if I may be so bold, what mighty 
 scheme has just tempted you to employ your head, 
 when you ought to make use of your heels ? 
 
 InMs. Mv heels ! here's nvetty doctixne ! do voo 
 
8 INKLE AND YAEICO, act r. 
 
 think I travel merely for motion ? a fine expensive plan 
 for a trader, truly. What, would you have a man of 
 business come abroad, scamper extravagantly here and 
 there and every where, then return home, and have 
 nothing to tell, but that he has been here and there 
 and every where ? 'sdeath, sir, would you have me 
 travel like a lord ? Travelling, uncle, was always in- 
 tended for improvement ; and improvement is an ad- 
 vantage ; and advantage is profit, and profit is gain. 
 Which, in the travelling translation of a trader, means, 
 that you should gain every advantage of improving 
 your profit. I have been comparing the land, here, 
 with that of our own country. 
 
 Med. And you find it like a good deal of the land 
 of our own country—cursedly encumbered with black 
 legs, I take it. 
 
 Inkle. And calculating how much it might be made 
 to produce by the acre. 
 
 Med. You were ? 
 
 Inkle. Yes; I was proceeding algebraically upon 
 the subject. 
 
 Med. Indeed ! 
 
 Inkle. And just about extracting the square root. 
 
 Med. Hum! 
 
 Inkle. I was thinking too, if so many natives could 
 be caught, how much they might fetch at the West 
 Indian markets. 
 
 Med. Now let me ask you a question or two, young 
 cannibal catcher, if you please. 
 
 Inkle. Well. 
 
 Med. Aren't we bound for Barbadoes; partly to 
 trade, but chiefly \o carry home the daughter of the go- 
 vernor, Sir Christopher Curry, who has till now been 
 under your father's care, in Threadneedle-street, for 
 polite English education. 
 
 Inkle. Granted. 
 
 Me% Ancj isn't it determined, between the old folks;, 
 
scine i. ; , AN OPERA, 9 
 
 that you are to marry Narcisssa as soon as we get there ? 
 
 Inkle. A fixed thing. 
 
 Med. Then what the devil do you do here, hunting 
 old hairy negroes, when you ought to be ogling a fme 
 girl in the ship ? Algebra, too ! you'll have other things 
 to think of when you are married, I promise you. A 
 plodding fellow's head, in the hands of a young wife, 
 like a boy's slate after school, soon gets all its arithme- 
 tic wiped off: and then it appears in its true simple 
 state ; dark, empty, and bound in wood, Master Inkle. 
 
 Inkle. Not in a match of this kind. Why, it's a ta- 
 ble of interest from beginning to end, old Medium. 
 
 Med. Well well, this is no time to talk. Who 
 knows but, instead of sailing to a wedding, we may 
 get cut up, here, for a wedding dinner : tossed up for a 
 dingy duke perhaps, or stewed down for a black baro- 
 net, or eat raw by an inky commoner ? 
 
 Inkle. Why sure, you aren't afraid ? 
 
 Med Who, i afraid ! ha ! ha ! ha ! no, not I ! 
 what the deuce should 1 be afraid of? thank heaven, I 
 have a clear conscience and need not be afraid of any 
 thing A sconndrel might not be quite so easy on such 
 an occasion ; bu' it's the part of an honest man not to 
 hehaye like a scoundrel : 1 never behaved like a scoun- 
 drel — for which reason I am an honest man, you know. 
 But come — 1 hate to boast of my good qualities. 
 
 Inkle. Slow and sure, my good, virtuous. Mr. Me- 
 dium ! our companions can be but half a mile before 
 us : and, if we do but double their steps, we shall 
 overtake 'em at one mile's end, by all the powers of 
 arithmetic. 
 
 Med. Oh, curse your arithmetic ! how are we to find 
 our way ? 
 
 Inkle. That, uncle, must be left to the doctrine of 
 chances* {exeunt 
 
10 INKLE AND YAHICO, act. i. 
 
 SCENE II. ANOTHER PART OF THE FOREST. — A SHIP AT 
 ANCHOR IN THE BAY, AT A SMALL DISTANCE. 
 
 Enter Sailors and Mate, as returning J rom foraging. 
 
 Mate. Come, come, bear a hand, my lads. Tho'f 
 the bay is just under our bowsprits, it will take a 
 damned deal of tripping to come at it — there's hardly 
 any steering clear of the rocks here. But do we mus- 
 ter all hands? all right t think ye? 
 
 1st Sail. All to a man — besides yourself, and a mon- 
 key—the three land lubbers, that edged away in the 
 morning, goes for nothing, you know — they're all dead 
 may-hap, by this. 
 
 Mate. Dead ! you be — why, they're friends of the 
 captain ; and, if not brought safe aboard to-night, you 
 may all chance to have a salt eel for your supper — that's 
 all. — Moreover, the young plodding spark, he with the 
 grave, foul-weather face," there, is to man the tight lit- 
 tle frigate, Miss Narcissa, what d'ye call her, that is 
 bound with us for Barbadoes. Rot 'em for not keep- 
 ing under way, 1 say ! but come, let's see if a song 
 will bring 'em too. Let's have a full chorus to the 
 good merchant ship, the Achilles, that's wrote by our 
 Captain. 
 
 The Achilles, though christen'd good ship, 'tis surmis'd, 
 From that old man of war, great Achilles, so priz'd, 
 Was he, like our vessel, pray, fairly babtiz'd ? 
 
 Ti tol lol, fee- 
 Poets sung that Achilles — if now, they've an itch 
 To sing this, future ages may know which is which ; 
 And that one rode in Greece — and the other in pitch. 
 
 What tho' but a merchant ship — sure our supplies : 
 Now your men of war's gain in a lottery lies, 
 
scene u. AN OPERA. il 
 
 And how blank they all look, when they can't get 3. 
 prize ! 
 
 What are all their line names ? when no rhino's behind, 
 The Intrepid, and Lion, look sheepish, you'll find ; 
 Whilst, alas ! the poor JEolus can't raise the wind ! 
 
 Then the Thunderer's dumb ; out of tune the Orpheus ; 
 
 The Ceres has nothing at all to produce; 
 
 And the Eagle, I warrant you, looks like a goose. 
 
 But we merchant lads, tho' the foe we can't maul, 
 Nor are paid, like fine king-ships, to fight at a call, 
 Why we pay ourselves well, without fighting at all. 
 
 1st Sail Avast! look a-head there. Here they come, 
 chased by a fleet of black devils. 
 
 Midsh. And the devil a fire have I to give 'em. We 
 han't a grain of powder left. What must we do, lad ? 
 
 2nd Sail. Do? sheer off, to be sure. 
 
 All. Come, bear a hand, Master Marlinspike ! 
 
 Midsh. (reluctantly) Well, if I must, I must (going 
 to the other side and hallooing to Inkle, fyc.) Yoho, 
 lubbers ! crowd all the sail you can, d'ye mind me ! [ex.. 
 
 Enter Medium, running, as pursued by the Blacks. 
 
 Med. Nephew ! Trudge ! run — scamper ! scour- 
 fly ! zounds, what harm did I ever do, to be hunted to 
 death by a pack of blood-hounds? why, nephew ! Oh, 
 confound your long sums in arithmetic ! I'll take care 
 of myself; and if we must have any arithmetic, dot and 
 carry one for my money. [runs qffl 
 
 Enter Inkle and Trudge, hastily. 
 
 Trudge. Oh ! that ever I was born, to leave pen, 
 ink, and powder, for this ! 
 
 Inkle. Trudge, how far are the sailors before us? 
 
 Trudge. I'll run and see, sir, directly. 
 
 Inkle. Blockhead, come here. The savages are close 
 upon us; we shall scarce be able to recover oui" party, 
 
12 INKLE AND YARICO. act iv 
 
 Get behind this tuft of trees with me ; they'll pass us, 
 and we may then recover our ship with safety. 
 
 Trudge, {going behind.) Oh! Threadneedle-street, 
 Thread !— 
 
 Inkle. Peace. 
 
 Trudge, {hiding.) — needle-street. 
 
 [They hide behind trees. Natives cross. After 
 a long pause. Inkle looks from the trees. 
 
 Inkle. Trudge. 
 
 Trudge. Sir. [in a whisper ', 
 
 Inkle. Are they all gone by ? 
 
 Trudge. Won't you look and see? 
 
 Inkle, {looking round.) So, all's safe at last, {coming 
 forward.) Nothing like policy in these cases ; but you'd 
 have run on, like a booby ! A tree, I fancy, you'll find, 
 in future, the best resource in a hot pursuit 
 
 Trudge. Oh, charming ! It's a retreat for a king, .sir. 
 Mr. Medium, however, has not got up in it ; your un- 
 cle, sir, has run on like a booby; and has got up with 
 our party by this time, 1 take it; who are now most 
 likely at the shore. But what are we to do next, sir ? 
 
 Inkle. Reconnoitre a little, and then proceed. 
 
 Trudge. Then pray, sir, proceed to reconnoitre ; for, 
 the sooner the better 
 
 Inkle. Then look out, d'ye hear, and tell me if you 
 discover any danger. 
 
 Trudge. Y — ye — s — yes ; but — [trembling. 
 
 Inkle. Well, is the coast clear ? 
 
 Trudge. Eh ! Oh lord ! — Clear ? {rubbing his eyes) 
 Oh dear ! oh dear ! the coast will soon be clear enough 
 now, I promise you— the ship is under sail, sir ! 
 
 Inkle. Confusion! my property carried off in the 
 vessel. 
 
 Trudge. All, all, sir, except me. 
 
 Inkle. They may report me dead, perhaps; and 
 dispose of my property at the next island. 
 
 [vessel under sail, 
 
 Tn'.dge, Ah! there they go. (a gun fired.)-—- 
 
scene n. AN OPEftA. 13 
 
 That will be the last report we shall ever hear from 
 'em, I'm afraid. — That's as much as to say, good by 
 to ye. And here we are left — two fine, full-grown 
 babes in the wood .' 
 
 Inkle. What an ill-timed accident ! just too, when 
 my speedy union with Narcissa, at Barbadoes, would 
 so much advance my interests. Something must be 
 hit upon, and speedily ; but what resource ? 
 
 [thinking. 
 
 Trudge. The old one— a tree, sir — 'tis all we have 
 for it now. What would N I give, now, to be perched 
 upon a high stool, with our brown desk squeezed into 
 the pit of my stomach — scribbling away an old parch- 
 ment ! — But all my red ink will be spilt by an old black 
 pin of a negro. 
 
 A voyage over seas had not enter'd my head* 
 
 Had I known but on which side to butter my bread. 
 
 Heigho ! sure I — for hunger must die ! 
 
 I've sail'd, like a booby ; come here in a squall, 
 
 Where, alas ! there's no bread to be butter-' d at all ! 
 
 Oho ! I'm a terrible booby ! 
 
 Oh, what a sad booby am I ! 
 
 In London, what gay chop-house signs in the street ! 
 But the only sign here, is of nothing to eat. 
 
 Heigho ! that I for hunger should die ! 
 
 My mutton's all lost ; I'm a poor starving elf; 
 And for all the world like a lost mutton myself 
 
 Oho ! I shall die a lost mutton ! 
 
 Oh, what a lost mutton am I ! 
 
 For a neat slice of*beef, I could roar like a bull; 
 And my stomach's so empty, my heart is quite full. 
 Heigho ! that I— for hunger should die ! 
 But grave without meat, I must here meet my grave, 
 For my bacon r I fancy* I never shall save, 
 
14 INKLE AND YARICO, act i. 
 
 Oho ! I shall ne'er save my bacon ! 
 I can't save my bacon, not I. ! 
 
 Trudge. Hum ! I was thinking 1 was thinking, 
 
 sir — if so many natives could be caught, how much 
 they might fetch at the West India markets ! 
 
 Inkle. Scoundrel ! is this a time to jest ? 
 
 Trudge. No, faith, sir ! hunger is too sharp to be 
 jested with. As for me, I shall starve for want of food. 
 Now you may meet a luckier fate : you are able to ex- 
 tract the square root, sir ; and that's the very best pro- 
 vision you can find here to live upon. But I — [noise 
 at a distance] Mercy on us ! here they come again. 
 
 Inkle. Confusion I deserted on one side, and pressed 
 on the other, which way shall I turn ? — This cavern 
 may prove a safe retreat to us for the present. I'll enter, 
 cost what it will. 
 
 Trudge. Oh! Lord! no, don't, don't — We shall pay 
 too dear for our lodging, depend on't. 
 
 Inkle. This is no time for debating. You are at the 
 mouth of it : lead the way, Trudge. 
 
 Trudge. What ! go in before your honour ! T know 
 my place better, 1 assure you. — I might walk into 
 more mouths than one, perhaps. [aside. 
 
 Inkle. Coward ! then follow me [noise again. 
 
 Trudge. I must, sir ; I must ! Ah Trudge, Trudge ! 
 what a damned hole are you getting into ! [exeunt. 
 
 SCENE. III. — A CAVE, DECORATED WITH SKINS OF WILD 
 BEASTS, FEATHERS, &C A RUDE KIND OF CURTAIN, AS 
 DOOR TO AN INNER PART. 
 
 Knter Inkle and Trudge, from the mouth of the cavern* 
 
 Trudge. Why, sir! you must be mad to go any 
 farther. 
 Jnkle. So far, at. least, we have proceeded with safe* 
 
teas in. AN OPERA. 15 
 
 ty. Ha ! no bad specimen of savage elegance. These 
 ornaments would be worth something in England.-— 
 We have little to fear here, I hope : this cave rather 
 bears the pleasing face of a profitable adventure. 
 
 Trudge. Very likely, sir ; but, for a pleasing face, 
 it has the cursed'st ugly mouth I ever saw in my life. 
 Now do, sir, make off as fast as you can. If we once 
 get clear of the natives' houses, we have little to fear 
 from the lions and leopards ; for, by the appearance of 
 their parlours, they seem to have killed all the wild 
 beasts in the countiy. Now pray, do, my good master, 
 take my advice, and run away. 
 
 Inkle. Rascal ! talk again of going out, and I'll flea 
 you alive. 
 
 Trudge. That's just what I expect for coming in. — - 
 All that enter here appear to have had their skin stript 
 over their ears } and ours will be kept forcuriosities-We 
 shall stand here, stuffed, for a couple of white wonders. 
 
 Inkle. This curtain seems to lead to another apart- 
 ment : I'll draw it. 
 
 Trudge. No, no, no, don't; don't. We may be 
 called to account for disturbing the company : you 
 may get a curtain lecture, perhaps, sir. 
 
 Inkle, Peace, booby, and stand on your guard. 
 
 Trudge. Oh ! what will become of us ! some grim* 
 seven-foot fellow ready to scalp us. 
 
 Inkle. By heaven ! a woman ! 
 
 [Yarico and JVowski discovered asleep. 
 
 Trudge. A woman ! [aside] — [loud.] But let him 
 come on ; I'm ready — dam'me, I don't fear facing the 
 devil himself— Faith, it is a woman— fast asleep, too. 
 
 Inkle. And beautiful as an angel ! 
 
 Trudge. And, egad ! there seems to be a nice, little, 
 plump, bit in the corner ;. only she's an angel of rather 
 darker sort. 
 
 Inkle. Hush ! keep back— she wakes. 
 
 [Yarico comes forward — Inkle and Trudge 
 retire, fcr the opposite sides of the scene. 
 
lb* INKLE AND YARICO. act i. 
 
 Yarico. When the chase of day is done, 
 And the shaggy lion's skin, 
 Which, for us, our warriors win, 
 Decks our cells, at set of sun; 
 Worn with toil, with sleep opprest, 
 J press my mossy bed, and sink to rest 
 
 Then, once more, I see our train, 
 With all our chase renew'd again : 
 
 Once more, 'tis day, 
 
 Once more, our prey 
 Gnashes his angry teeth, and foams in vain. 
 
 Again, in sullen haste, he flies, 
 
 Ta'en in the toil again he lies, 
 Again he roars — and, in my slumbers, dies. 
 
 Inkle. Our language ! 
 
 Trudge. Zounds, she has thrown me into a cold 
 sweat. 
 
 Yarico. Hark ! I heard a noise ! Wowski, awake ! 
 whence can it it proceed ! 
 
 [She wakes Wowski, and they both come 
 
 forward — Yarico towards Inkle ; 
 
 Wowski towards Truge. 
 
 Yar. Ah ! what form is this ? — are you a man ? 
 
 Inkle. True flesh and blood, my charming heathen, 
 I promise you. 
 
 Yar. What harmony in his voice ! what a shape ! 
 How fair his skin too ! [gazing.] 
 
 Trudge. This must be a lady of quality, by her 
 staring. 
 
 Yar. Say, stranger, whence come you? 
 
 Inkle. From a far distant island ; driven on this 
 coast by distress, and deserted by my companions. 
 
 Yar. And do you know the danger that surrounds 
 you here ? our woods are filled with beasts of prey — 
 
 my countrymen, too {yet, I think they could'nt 
 
 find the heart)— might kill you. — —It would b-e a 
 
sccNEHi. AN OPERA, 11 
 
 pity if you fell in their way— I think I should weep 
 if you came to any harm. 
 
 Trudge. O ho ! it's time, I see, to begin making in- 
 terest with the chambermaid. [takes VVowski apart. 
 
 Inkle. How wild and beautiful ! sure, there's magic 
 in her shape, and she has rivetted me to the place. 
 But where shall I look for safety? let me fly, and 
 avoid my death. 
 
 Yar. Oh! no — But [as if puzzled] well then, 
 
 die stranger, but, don't depart. But I will try to 
 
 preserve you ; and if you are killed, Yarico must die 
 too! Yet, 'tis I alone can save you: your death is 
 certain without my assistance; and indeed, indeed, 
 you shall not want it. 
 
 Inkle. My kind Yarico ! what means, then, must be 
 used for my safety ? 
 
 Yar. My cave must conceal you : none enter it, 
 since my father was slain in battle. I will bring you 
 food by day, then lead you to our unfrequented groves, 
 by moonlight, to listen to the nightengale. If you 
 should sleep, I'll watch you, and wake you when 
 there's danger. 
 
 Inkle. Generous maid ! then, to you I will owe my 
 life ; and whilst it lasts, nothing shall part us. 
 
 Yar. And shan't it, shan't it it indeed? 
 
 Inkle. No, my Yarico ! for, when an opportunity 
 offers to return to my country, you shall be my com- 
 panion. 
 
 Yar. What ! cross the seas ! 
 
 Inkle. Yes. Help me to discover a vessel, and you 
 shall enjoy wonders — You shall be decked in silks, my 
 brave maid, and have a house drawn with horses to 
 carry you. 
 
 Yar. Nay, do not laugh at me— but is it so ? 
 
 Inkle. It is, indeed ! 
 
 Yar. Oh, wonder ! I wish my countrywomen could 
 see me But won't your warriors kill us ? 
 
 Inkle, No, our only danger f on land, is hem. 
 
IB INKLE AND YARICO, . acti. 
 
 Yar. Then let us retire further into the cave. Come 
 «—your safety is in my keeping. 
 
 Inkle. I follow you — Yet, can you run some risque 
 in following me ? 
 
 duet. , 
 Inkle. O say, simple maid, have you form'd any notion 
 Of all the rude dangers in crossing the ocean ? 
 When winds whistle shrilly, ah ! won't they re- 
 mind you, 
 To sigh, with regret, for the grot left behind 
 you ? 
 Yar. Ah ! no, 1 could follow, and sail the world over, 
 Nor think of my grot, when 1 look at my lover ! 
 The winds which blow round us, your arms for 
 
 my pillow, 
 Will lull us to sleep, whilst we'er rock'd by each 
 billow. 
 Both. O say then, my true love, we never will sunder, 
 Nor shrink from the tempest, nor dread the big 
 
 thunder : 
 While constant, we'll laugh at all changes of 
 
 weather, 
 And journey, all over the world, both together. 
 
 Trudge. Why, you speak English as well as I, my 
 little W r owski. 
 
 Wows. Iss. 
 
 Trudge. Iss ! and you learnt it from a strange man, 
 that tumbled from a big boat, many moons ago, you 
 say! 
 
 Wows. Iss — teach me — teach good many. 
 
 Trudge. Then, what the devil made 'em so surpris'd 
 at seeing us! was he like me? [Wowski shakes her 
 head] Not so smart a body, may hap. Was his face, 
 now, round, and comely, and — eh ! [stroking his chin] 
 Was it like mine ? 
 
 Wows. Like dead leaf — brown and shrivel. 
 
 Trudge, Oh, oh. an old shipwrecked sailor, I war- 
 
scene m. AN OPERA. 19 
 
 rant. With white and grey hair, eh, my pretty beauty 
 spot? 
 
 ' VFows. Iss; all white. When night come,. he put 
 it in pocket. 
 
 Trudge. Oh ! wore a wig. But the old boy taught 
 you something more than English, I believe. 
 
 Wows. Iss. 
 
 Trudge. The devil he did ! What was it? 
 
 TVov)s. Teach me put dry grass, red hot, in hollow 
 white stick. 
 
 Trudge. Aye, what was that for? 
 
 Wows. Put in my mouth — go poff, poff. 
 
 Trudge. Zounds! did he teach you to smoke ? 
 
 Wows. Iss. 
 
 Trudge. And what became of him at last? What 
 did your countrymen do for the poor fellow ? 
 
 Wows. Eat him one day — Our chief kill him. 
 
 Trudge. Mercy on us ! what damned stomachs, to 
 swallow a tough old tar! though, tor the matter of 
 that, there's many of our captains would eat all they 
 kill, I believe ! Ah, poor Trudge! your killing comes 
 next. 
 
 Woivs. No, no — not you — no — [running to him 
 
 anxiously. 
 
 Trudge. No ? why what shall I do, if I get in their 
 paws? 
 
 Wows. I fight for you ! 
 
 Trudge. Will you ? ecod she's a brave, good-natur- 
 ed wench ! she'll be worth a hundred of your English 
 wives — Whenever they fight on their husband's ac- 
 count, its with him, instead of for him, I fancy. But 
 how the plague am I to live here ! 
 
 Wows. I feed you — bring you kid. 
 
 White man, never go away— 
 
 Tell me why need you ? 
 Stay, with your Wowski, stay : 
 
 Wowski will feed voik 
 
20 INKLE AND YARICO, act & 
 
 Cold moons are now coming in : 
 
 Ah don't go grieve me ! 
 I'll wrap you in leopard's skin: 
 
 White man, don't leave me. 
 
 And when all the sky is blue, 
 
 Sun makes warm weather, 
 I'll catch you a cockatoo, 
 
 Dress you in feather. 
 When cold comes, or when 'tis hot, 
 
 Ah don't go grieve me. ' 
 Poor Wowski will be forgot 
 
 White man, don't leave me. 
 
 Trudge. Zounds ! leopard's skin for winter wear, 
 and feathers for a summer's suit ! Ha ! ha ! I shall 
 look like a walking hammer-cloth, at Christmas, and 
 an upright shuttle cock, in the dog-days. And for all 
 this, if my master and I find our way to England, you 
 shall be part of our traveliling equipage ; and, when I 
 get there, I'll give you a couple of snug rooms, on a 
 first floor, and visit you every evening as soon as I 
 come from the counting house. Do you like it ? 
 
 Wows. Iss. 
 
 Trudge. Damme, what a flashy fellow I shall seem 
 in the city ! I'll get her a white boy to bring up the 
 tea-kettle. Then I'll teach you to write, and dress 
 hair 
 
 Wows. You great man in your country ? 
 
 Truge. Oh yes, a very great man. I'm head clerk 
 of the counting-house, and first valet-de-chambre of 
 the dressing-room. I pounce parchments, powder 
 hair, black shoes, ink paper, shave beards, and mend 
 pens. But hold; I had forgot one material point — 
 you arn't married, I hope ? 
 
 Wows. No : you be my chum-chum ! 
 
 Trudge. So I will. It's best however, to be sure of 
 her being single ; for Indian husbands are not quite 
 
 A- 
 
AN OPERA. 
 
 21 
 
 so complaisant as English ones— and the 'vulgar 
 dogs might think of looking a little after their spouses. 
 Well, as my master seems king of this palace, and has 
 taken his Indian queen already, I'll e'en be usher of 
 the black rod here. But you have had a lover or two 
 in your time : eh, Wowski ? 
 
 Wows. Oh iss — great many— X tell you. 
 
 DUET. 
 
 JVows. Wampum, Swampum, Yanko, Lanko, Nanko s 
 Pownatowski, 
 
 Black men — plenty — twenty — fight for me, 
 
 White man, woo you true ? 
 Trudge. Who ? 
 Wows. You. 
 
 Trudge. Yes, pretty little Wowski ! 
 Wows. Then, I'll leave all and follow thee. 
 Trudge. O then turn about, my little tawny tight 
 
 Don't you like me ? [one \ 
 
 Wows. Iss, you're like the snow ! 
 
 If you slight one.- - 
 
 Trudge. Never, not for any white one : 
 
 You are beautiful as any sloe. 
 Wows. War, jars, scars, can't expose ye, 
 
 In our grot 
 
 Trudge. So snug and cosey ! 
 Wovjs. Flowers neatly 
 
 Pick'd shall sweetly 
 
 Make your bed. 
 Trudge. Coying, toying, 
 
 With a rosy posey, 
 
 When I'm dosey, 
 
 Bear-skin night-caps, too, shall warm my 
 head, 
 Both. Bear-skin night-caps, &c. &q, [Exeunt, 
 
22. INKLE AM) YAJUCO, act h 
 
 ; ACT THE SECOND, 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 THE QUAY AT BARB ADO ES. 
 
 Enter several Planters. 
 
 1st Plant. I saw her this morning, gentlemen, you 
 may depend on't. My telescope never fails me. I 
 popp'd upon her as I was taking a peep from my bal- 
 cony. A brave tight ship, 1 teli you, bearing down di- 
 rectly for Barbadoes here. 
 
 2d Plant Ods my life ! rare news ! We have not 
 had a vessel arrive in our harbour these six weeks. 
 
 3d Plant. And the last brought only madam Nar- 
 cissa, our Governor's daughter, from England ; with 
 a parcel of lazy, idle, white folks about her. Such 
 cargoes will never do for our trade, neighbour. 
 
 4th Plant. No, no : we want slaves. A terrible 
 dearth of 'em in Barbadoes, lately ! but your dingy 
 passengers for my money. Give me a vessel like a 
 collier, where all the lading tumbles out as black as 
 my hat. But are you sure, now, you aren't mistaken ? 
 
 [to 1st Planter. 
 
 1st Plant Mistaken ! 'sbud, do you doubt my glass ? 
 I can discover a gull by by it six leagues off : I could 
 see every thing as plain as iff was on board. 
 
 2d Plant. Indeed! and what were her colours? 
 
 1st Plant Um ! why English or Dutch— — or 
 
 French 1 don't exactly remember. 
 
 3d Plant. What were the sailors aboard ? 
 
 1st Plant. Eh ! why they were English too -or 
 
 Dutch — or French - I can't perfectly recollect, 
 
scene i. AN OPERA. 23 
 
 Ath Plant. Your glass, neighbour, is a little like a 
 glass too much : it makes you forget every thing yois 
 ought to remember. [Ct^y without, A sail ! A sail! 
 
 1st Plant. Egad, but I'm right tho\ Now, gentle- 
 men ! 
 
 All. Aye, aye ; the devil take the hindmost. 
 
 [Exit, hastily* 
 
 Enter Narcissa and Patty. 
 
 JSTar. Freshly now the breeze is blowing ; 
 
 As yon ship at anchor rides, 
 Sullen waves, incessant flowing, 
 
 Rudely dash against the sides : 
 So my heart, its course impeded, 
 
 Beats in my purturbed breast : 
 Doubts, like waves by waves succeeded, 
 
 Rise, and still deny it rest. 
 
 Patty. Well, ma'am, as I was saying 
 
 Nar. Well, say no more of what you were saying — 
 Sure, Patty, you forget where you are : a little caution 
 will be necessary now, I think. 
 
 Patty. Lord, madam, how is it possible to help talk- 
 ing ? We are in Barbadoes, here, to be sure — but then, 
 ma'am, one may let out a little in a private morning's 
 walk by ourselves. 
 
 JsTar. Nay, it's the same thing with you in-doors. 
 
 Patty. 1 never blab, ma'am, never, as I hope for a 
 gown. 
 
 JVar. And your never blabbing, as you call it, de- 
 pends chiefly on that hope, I believe. The unlocking 
 my chest, locks up all your faculties. An old silk 
 gown makes you turn your back on all my secrets ; a 
 large bonnet blinds your eyes ; and a fashionable high 
 handkerchief covers your ears, and stops your mouth 
 at once, Patty. 
 
 Patty. Dear ma'am, how can you think a body so 
 
24 INKLE AND YARICO, act o. 
 
 mercenary ! am I always teazing you about gowns and 
 gew-gaws, a^id fal-lals and finery ? Or do you take me 
 lor a conjuror, that nothing will come out of my mouth 
 but ribbons ? I have told the story of our voyage, in- 
 deed, to old Guzzle, the butler, who is very inquisi- 
 tive ; and, between ourselves, is the ugliest old quiz I 
 ever saw in my life. 
 
 JYar. Well, well, I have seen him ; pitted with the 
 small pox, and a red face. 
 
 Patty. Right, ma'am. It's for all the world like his 
 master's cellar, full of holes and liquor. Rut when he 
 asks me what you and I think of the matter, why I 
 look wise, and cry, like other wise people who have 
 nothing to say — All's for the best. 
 
 JYar. And, thus, you lead him to imagine I am but 
 little inclined to the match. 
 
 Patty. Lord, ma'am, how could that be ? Why, I 
 never said a word about Captain Campley. 
 
 JYar. Hush ! hush, for heaven's sake. 
 
 Patty. Ay, there it is now. — There, ma'am, I'm as 
 mute as a mackarel — That name strikes me dumb in a 
 moment. I don't know how it is, but Captain Camp- 
 ley some how or other has the knack of stopping my 
 mouth oftener than any body else, ma'am. 
 
 Mar. His name again ! — Consider. — Never mention 
 it ; I desire you. 
 
 Patty. Not I, ma'am, not I. Rut, if our voyage from 
 England was so pleasant, it was'nt owing to Mr Inkle, 
 I'm certain. He didn't play the fiddle in our cabin, 
 and dance on the deck, and come languishing with a 
 glass of warm water in his hand, when we were sea- 
 sick. Ah, ma'am, that water warm'd your heart, I'm 
 confident. Mr. Inkle ; no, no ! Captain Cam 
 
 JYar. There is no end to this ! Remember, Patty, 
 keep your secrecy, or you entirely lose my favour. 
 
 Patty. Never fear me, ma'am. Rut if somebody 1 
 know is not acquainted with the governor, there's such 
 a thing as dancing at bolls, and squeezing hands when 
 
scene i. AN OPERA. 25 
 
 you lead up, and squeezing them again when you cast 
 down, and walking on the quay in a morning. Oh, 
 I won't utter a syllable, {archly.) But remember, I'm 
 as close as a patch-box. Mum's the word, ma'am, I 
 promise you. 
 
 This maxim let ev'ry one hear, 
 
 Proclaim'd from the north to the south ; 
 Whatever comes in at your ear, 
 
 Should never run out at your mouth. 
 We servants, like servants of state, 
 
 Should listen to all, and be dumb ; 
 Let others harangue and debate, 
 
 We look wise — shake our heads, — and are mum. 
 
 The judge in dull dignity drest, 
 
 In silence hears barristers preach ; 
 And then, to prove silence is best, 
 
 He'll get up, and give them a speech. 
 By saying but little, the maid 
 
 Will keep her swain under her thumb ; 
 And the lover that's true to his trade, 
 
 Is certain to kiss, and cry mum. [exit. 
 
 Nar. How awkward is my present situation ! pro- 
 mised to one, who, perhaps, may never again be heard 
 of ; and who, I am sure, if he ever appears to claim 
 me, will do it merely on the score of interest — pressed 
 too by another, who has already, I fear, too much in- 
 terest in my heart— what can I do? What plan can I 
 follow ? 
 
 Enter Campley. 
 
 Camp. Follow my advice, Narcissa, by all means. 
 Enlist with me, under the best banners in the world. 
 General Hymen for my money ! little Cupid's his 
 drummer : he has been beating a round rub-a-dub on 
 our hearts, and we have only to obey the word of com- 
 
Is INKLE AND YARICO, act n. 
 
 mand, fall into the ranks of matrimony, and march 
 through life together. 
 
 JVar. Then consider our situation. 
 
 Camp. That has-been duly considered. In short, 
 the case stands exactly thus — your intended spouse is 
 all for money : I am all for love : he is a rich rogue : 
 I am rather a poor honest fellow. He would pocket 
 your fortune; I will take you without a fortune in 
 your pocket. 
 
 JVar. Oh ! I am sensible of the favour, most gallant 
 Captain Campley ; and my father, no doubt, will be 
 very much obliged to you. 
 
 Camp. Aye, there's the devil of it ! Sir Christopher 
 Curry's confounded good character — knocks me up at 
 once. Yet I am not acquainted with him, neither; 
 not known to him, even by sight; being here only as 
 a private gentleman on a visit to my old relation, out 
 of regimentals, and so forth ; and not introduced to 
 the Governor as other officers of the place : but then 
 the report of his hospitality — his odd, blunt, whimsical, 
 friendship — his whole behaviour 
 
 JVar. All stare you in the face, eh, Campley ? 
 
 Camp. They do, till they put me out of counte- 
 nance : but then again, when I stare you in the face, 
 I can't think I have any reason to be ashamed of my 
 proceedings — I stick here, between my love and my 
 principle, like a song between a toast and a sentiment. 
 
 JVar. And, if your love and your principle were put 
 in the scales, you doubt which would weigh most ? 
 
 Camp. Oh, no ! I should act like a rogue, and let 
 principle kick the beam : for love, Narcissa, is as heavy 
 a£ lead, and, like a bullet from a pistol, could never 
 go through the heart, if it wanted weight. 
 
 JVar. Or rather like the pistol itself, that often goes 
 off without any harm done. Your fire must end in 
 smoke, I believe. 
 
 Camp. Never, whilst — — 
 
 JVar. Nay, a truce to protestations at present. What 
 
ssejje t. AN OPERA, %! 
 
 signifies talking to me, when you have such opposition 
 from others ? Why hover about the city, instead of 
 boldly attacking the guard ? Wheel about, captain ! 
 face the enemy ! march! charge! rout 'em— Drive 'em 
 before you, and then— 
 
 Camp. And then — 
 
 JYar. Lud have mercy on the poor city ! 
 
 Ma»s would oft, his conquest over, 
 
 To the Cyprian goddess yield ; 
 Venus gloried in a lover, 
 
 Who, like him, could brave the field. 
 
 Mars would oft, &c. 
 
 In the cause of battles hearty, 
 
 Still the God would strive to prove, 
 
 He, who fac'd an adverse party, 
 Fittest was to meet his love. 
 
 Hear then, captains, ye who bluster, 
 
 Hear the God of war declare, 
 Cowards never can pass muster ; 
 
 Courage only wins the fair. . 
 
 Enter Patty, hastily. 
 Patty. Oh, lud, ma'am, I'm frightened out of my 
 wits ! sure as I'm alive, ma'am, Mr. Inkle is not dead ; 
 I saw his man, ma'am, just now, coming ashore in a 
 boat with other passengers, from the vessel that's come 
 to the island. [exit. 
 
 Nar. (to Camp.) Look'ye, Mr. Campley, something 
 has happened which makes me waive ceremonies. — If 
 you mean to apply to my father, remember that delays 
 are dangerous. 
 
 Camp. Indeed ! 
 
 JSTar. I may'nt be always in the same mind, you 
 know. [smiling. 
 
 Camp. Nay, then— Gad, I'm almost afraid too— but 
 
28 INKLE AND YARICO, act n. 
 
 living in this state of doubt is torment. I'll e'en put 
 a good face on the matter ; cock my hat ; make my 
 bow ; and try to reason the Governor into compliance. 
 Faint heart never won a fair lady. 
 
 Why should I vain fears discover, 
 
 Prove a dying, sighing swain ? 
 Why turn shilly-shally lover, 
 
 Only to prolong my pain ? 
 
 When we woo the dear enslaver, 
 
 Boldly ask, and she will grant ; 
 How should we obtain a favour, 
 
 But by telling what we want? 
 
 Should the nymph be found complying, 
 
 Nearly then the battle's won ; 
 Parent's think 'tis vain denying, 
 
 W T hen half the work is fairly done, [exeunt. 
 
 Enter Trudge and TVoivski, as from ike ship ; with a 
 dirty Runner from one of the inns. 
 
 Run. This way, sir; if you will let me recom- 
 mend 
 
 Trudge. Come along, Wows ! Take care of j'our 
 furs, and your feathers, my girl. 
 
 Wows. Iss. . 
 
 Trudge. That's right. — Somebody might steal 'era, 
 perhaps. 
 
 Wows. Steal .'—What that ? 
 
 Trudge. Oh, lord ! see what one loses by not being 
 born in a Christian country. 
 
 Run. Tf you would, sir, but mention to your master, 
 the house that belongs to my master ; the best accom- 
 modations on the quay. — • 
 
 Trudge. What's your sign, my lad ? 
 
 Run. The Crown, sir — Here it is. 
 
 Trudge, Well, get us a room for half an hour, and 
 
gams i. AN OPERA. W 
 
 we'll come : and hark'ee ! let it be light and airy, d'ye 
 hear ? My master has been used to your open apart- 
 ments lately. 
 
 Run. Depend on it. — Much obliged to you, sir. [exit. 
 
 Woivs. Who be that fine man ? He great prince? 
 
 Trudge. A prince — Ha ! ha ! — No, not quite a 
 prince— but he belongs to the crown. But how do 
 you like this, Wows ? Isn't it fine ? 
 
 Wows. Wonder ! 
 
 Trudge. Fine men, eh I 
 
 Wows. Iss ! all white ; like you. 
 
 Trudge. Yes, all the fine men are like me : as dif- 
 ferent from your people as powder and ink, or paper 
 and blacking. 
 
 Wows. And fine lady — Face like snow. 
 
 Trudge. What ! the fine ladie's complexions ? Oh, 
 yes, exactly; for too much heat very often dissolves 
 'em ! Then their dress, too. 
 
 Wows. Your countrymen dress so ? 
 
 Trudge. Better, better, a great deal. Why, a young 
 flashy Englishman will sometimes carry a whole for- 
 tune on his back. But did you mind the women ? All 
 here; — and there ; {pointing before and behind) they 
 have it all from us in England. And then the fine 
 things they carry on their heads, Wowski. 
 
 Wows. Tss. One lady carry good fish — so fine, she 
 call every body to look at her. 
 
 Trudge. Pshaw ! an old woman bawling flounders. 
 But the fine girls we meet, here, on the quay — so round, 
 and so plump ! 
 
 Wows. You not love me now. 
 
 Trudge. Not love you ! Zounds, have not I given 
 you proofs ? 
 
 Wows. Iss. Great many: but now you get here, 
 you forget poor Wowski ! 
 
 Trudge. Not I ; I'll stick to you like wax. 
 
 Wows. Ah, I fear ! What make you love me now ? 
 
 Trudge, Gratitude, to be sUTe> 
 
30 iNKL£ AND YARICO, act it. 
 
 Wows. What that? 
 
 Trudge. Ha ! this it is, now, to live without educa- 
 tion. The poor dull devils of her country are all in 
 the practice of gratitude, without finding out what it 
 means; while we can tell the meaning of it, with little 
 or no practice at all. Lord, lord, what a fine advan- 
 tage Christian learning is ! Hark'ee, Wows ! 
 
 Wows Iss. 
 
 Trudge. Now we've accomplished our landing, 1*11 
 accomplish you, You remember the instructions I 
 gave you on the voyage ? 
 
 Wows. Iss. 
 
 Trudge. Let's see now — What are you to do, when 
 I introduce you to the nobility, gentry, and others — 
 of my acquaintance ? 
 
 Wows. Make believe sit down ; then get up. 
 
 Trudge* Let me see you do it. (she makes a low cur- 
 tesy) Very well ! And how are you to recommend 
 yourself, when you have nothing to say, amongst all 
 our great friends ? 
 
 Wows. Grin — shew my teeth. 
 
 Trudge. Right ! they'll think you lived with people 
 of fashion. But suppose you meet an old shabby 
 friend in misfortune, that you don't wish to be seen to 
 speak to — what would you do ? 
 
 Wows. Look blind — not see him. 
 
 Trudge. W T hy would you do that ? 
 
 Wows. 'Cause I can't see good friend in distress. 
 
 Trudge. That's a good girl ! and I wish every body 
 could boast of so kind a motive, for such cursed cruel 
 behaviour. Lord ! how some of your flashy banker's 
 clerks have cut me in Threadneedle street. But 
 come, though we have got among fine folks, here, in 
 an English settlement, I won't be ashamed of my old 
 acquaintance : yet, for my own part, I should not be 
 sorry, now, to see my old friend with a new face. 
 Odsbobs! I see Mr. Inkle—Go in. Wows: call for 
 what you like best. 
 
scene i. AN OPERA,. 31 
 
 Wows. Then, I call for you ah ! 1 fear I not see 
 you often now. But you come soon- 
 Remember when we walk'd alone, 
 
 And heard, so gruff, the lion growl ; 
 And when the moon so bright it shone, 
 We saw the wolf look up and howl ; 
 I led you well, safe to our cell, 
 
 While, tremblingly, 
 You said to me, 
 —And kiss'd so sweet — dear Wowski tell, 
 
 How could I live without ye ? 
 
 But now you come across the sea, 
 
 And tell me here no monsters roar ; 
 You'll walk alone and leave poor me, 
 
 When wolves to fright you howl no more. 
 But ah ! think well on our old cell, 
 
 Where, tremblingly, 
 You kiss'd poor me — - 
 Perhaps, you'll say — dear Wowski tell, 
 
 How can I live without ye ? [exit 
 
 Trudge. Eh ! oh ! my master's talking to somebody 
 on the quay. Who have we here ! 
 Enter First Planter. 
 
 Plant. Hark'ee, young man ! Is that young Indian 
 of your's going to our market ? 
 
 Trudge. Not she— she never went to market in all 
 her life. 
 
 Plant. I mean, is she for our sale of slaves ? Our 
 Black Fair? 
 
 Trudge. A black fair ! ha, ha, ha! You hold it on 
 a brown green, I suppose. 
 
 Plant. She's your slave, I take it ? 
 
 Trudge. Yes; and I'm her humble servant, I take it. 
 
 Plant. Aye, aye, natural enough at sea, But *t 
 how much do vou value her ? 
 
32 INKLE AND YARICO, act n. 
 
 Trudge. Just as much as she has saved me— My 
 own life. 
 
 Plant. Pshaw ! you mean to sell her ! 
 
 Trudge, {staring,) Zounds ! what a devil of a fel- 
 low ! Sell Wows ! my poor, dear, dingy wife ! 
 
 Plant. Come, come, I've heard your story from the 
 ship. Don't let's haggle ; I'll bid as fair as any trader 
 amongst us: but no tricks upon travellers, young man, 
 to raise your price. Your wife, indeed ! Why she's 
 no Christian ? 
 
 Trudge. No : but I am ; so I shall do as I'd be done 
 by, Master Black-market : and, if you were a good 
 one yourself, you'd know, that fellow-feeling for a poor 
 body, who wants your help, is the noblest mark of our 
 religion. I would'nt be articled clerk to such a fellow 
 for the world. 
 
 Plant Hey-dey ! The booby's in love with her ! 
 Why, sure, friend, you would not live here with a 
 black ? 
 
 Trudge. Plague on't ; there it is. I shall be laughed 
 out of my honesty, here. — But you may be jogging, 
 friend ; I may feel a little queer, perhaps, at showing 
 her face— but, dam'me, if ever I do any thing to make 
 me ashamed of showing my own. 
 
 Plant. Why, I tell you, her very complexion ■ 
 
 Trudge. Rot her complexion. I'll tell you what, 
 Mr. Fair-trader ; if your head and heart were to 
 change places, I've a notion you'd be as black in the 
 face as an ink-bottle. 
 
 Plant. Pshaw ! The fellow's a fool — a rude rascal — 
 he ought to be sent back to the savages, again He's 
 not fit to live among us Christians. [exit. 
 
 Trudge. Oh, here he is at last. 
 
 Enter Inkle and a second Planter. 
 
 Inkle. Nay, sir, I understand your customs well : 
 your Indian markets are not unknown to me. 
 
 2 Plant. And, as you seem to understand business, 
 I need not tell you that despatch is the soul of it. Her 
 name you say is— 
 
scem; i. AN OPERA. 38 
 
 Inkle. Yarico : but urge this no more, I beg you. I 
 must not listen to it : for to speak freely, her anxious 
 care of me demands, that here, — though here it may 
 seem strange — I should avow my love for her. 
 
 Plant. Lord help you for a merchant ! — It's the first 
 time I ever heard a trader talk of love ; except, indeed, 
 the love of trade, and the love of the Sweet Molly, my 
 ship. 
 
 Inkle. Then, sir, you cannot feel my situation. 
 
 Plant. Oh yes, I can! We have a hundred such 
 eases just after a voyage ; but they never last long on 
 land. It's amazing how constant a young man is in a 
 ship ! But, in two words, will you dispose of her, 
 or no ? 
 
 Inkle. In two words then, meet me here at noon, 
 and we'll speak further on this subject ; and lest you 
 think I trifle with your business, hear why I wish this 
 pause. Chance threw me, on my passage to your isl- 
 and, among a savage people. Deserted, — defenceless, 
 — cut off from my companions, — my life at stake — to 
 this young creature I owe my preservation ; she found 
 me, like a dying bough, torn from its kindred branches ; 
 which, as it dropped, she moistened with her tears. 
 
 Plant. Nay, nay, talk like a man of this world. 
 
 Inkle. Your patience. And yet your interruption 
 goes to my present feelings ; for on our sail to this your 
 island — the thoughts of time mispent — doubt — fears — 
 for call it what you will — have much perplex'd me ; 
 and as your spires arose, reflections still rose with them ; 
 for here, sir, lie my interests, great connections, and 
 other weightymatters — which now I need not mention. 
 
 Plant. But which her presence hear will mar. 
 
 Inkle. Even so — And yet the gratitude I owe her? 
 
 Plant. Pshaw ! So because she preserved your life, 
 your gratitude is to make you give up all you have to 
 live upon. 
 
 Inkle. Why in that light indeed— This never struck 
 me vet, I'll think on't. 
 
34 INKLE AND YAR1C0, act 21, 
 
 Plant Aye, aye, do so— Why what return can the 
 wench wish more than taking her from a wild, idle, 
 savage people, and providing for her, here, with re- 
 putable hard work, in a genteel, polished, tender, 
 Christian country ? 
 
 Inkle. Well, sir, at noon—- — 
 
 Plant. I'll meet you — but remember, young gentle- 
 man, you must get her off your hands— you must in- 
 deed. — I shall have her a bargain, I see that — your 
 servant !— Zounds, how late it is but never be put 
 out of your way for a woman — I must run — my wife 
 wiil play the devil with me for keeping breakfast, [exit. 
 
 Inkle. Trudge. 
 
 Trudge. Sir ! 
 
 Inkle. Have you provided a proper apartment ? 
 
 Trudge. Yes, sir, at the Crown here ; a neat, spruce 
 room, they tell me. You have not seen such a con- 
 venient lodging this good while, I believe. 
 
 Inkle. Are there no better inns in the town ? 
 
 Trudge. Um — Why there's the Lion, I hear, and 
 the Bear, and the Boar — but we saw them at the door 
 of all our late lodgings, and found but bad accommo- 
 dations within, sir. 
 
 Inkle. Well, run to the end of the quay, snd conduct 
 Yarico hither. The road is straight before you : you 
 can't miss it. 
 
 Trudge. Very well, sir. What a fine thing it is to 
 turn one's back on a master, without running into a 
 wolf's belly ! One can follow one's nose on a message 
 here, and be sure it won't be bit off by the way. [exit. 
 
 Inkle. Let me reflect a little. Part with her — J usti- 
 fied f — Pshaw, my interest, honour, engagements to 
 Narcissa, all demand it. My father's precepts, too — 
 I can remember, when I was a boy, what pains he 
 took to mould me ! — Schooled me from morn to night 
 — and still the burden of his song was — prudence ! 
 Prudence, Thomas, and you'll rise. — Early he taught 
 me numbers ; which he said, and he said rightly, 
 
rikftfi i. Ai\ OPERA. " 35 
 
 would give me a quick view of loss and profit; and 
 banish from my mind those idle impulses of passion, 
 which mark young thoughtless spendthrifts. His max- 
 ims rooted in my heart, and as 1 grew — they grew ; 
 till I was reckoned, among our friends, a steady, sober, 
 solid, good young man ; and all the neighbours call- 
 ed me the prudent Mr. Thomas. And shall I now, 
 at once, kick down the character which I have raised 
 so warily ? — Part with her — The thought once struck 
 me in our cabin, as she lay sleeping by me ; but, in 
 her slumbers, she past her arm around me, murmured 
 a blessing on my name, and broke my meditations. 
 Enter Yarico and Trudge. 
 
 Yar. My love ; 
 
 Trudge. I have heen showing her all the wigs and 
 bales of goods we met on the quay, sir. 
 
 Yar. Oh ! I have feasted my eyes on wonders. 
 
 Trudge. And I'll go feast on a slice of beef, in the 
 inn, here. [Exit, 
 
 .Yar. My mind has been so busy, that I almost for- 
 got even you. I wish you had staid with me — You 
 would have seen such sights ! 
 
 Inkle. Those sights have grown familiar to me, Ya- 
 rico. 
 
 Yar. And yet 1 wish they were not. — You might 
 partake my pleasures — but now again, methinks, I 
 will not wish so — for, with too much gazing, you might 
 neglect poor Yarico. 
 
 Inkle. Nay, nay, my care is still for you. 
 
 Yar. I'm sure it is : and if I thought it was not, I'd 
 tell you tales about our poor old grot — bid you remem- 
 ber our palm-tree near the brook, where in the shade 
 you often stretched yourself, while I would take your 
 head upon my lap, and sihg my love to sleep. I know 
 you'll love me then. 
 
 Our grotto was the sweetest place ! 
 
 The bending boughs, with fragrance blowing* 
 
36 INKLE AND YARICO, ' act h 
 
 Would check the brook's impetuous pace, 
 Which murmur' cl to be stopt from flowing, 
 
 'Twas there we met, and gaz'd our fill, 
 Ah ! think on this, and love me still. 
 
 'Twas then my bosom first knew fear, 
 < — Fear, to an Indian maid a stranger — 
 The war-song, arrows, hatchet 5 spear, 
 All warh'd me of my lover's danger. 
 For him did cares my bosom fill ; 
 Ah ! think on this, and love me still. [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE LI. — sir Christopher curry's. 
 
 Enter Sir Christopher and Medium. 
 
 Sir C. I tell you, old Medium, you are all wrong. 
 Plague on your doubts ! Inkle shall have my Narcissa. 
 Poor fellow ! I dare say he's finely chagrined at this 
 temporary parting — Eat up with the blue devils, I war- 
 rant. 
 
 Med. Eat up by the black devils, I Warrant ; for I 
 left him in hellish hungry company. 
 
 Sir C. Pshaw ! he'll arrive with the next vessel, de- 
 pend on't — besides, have not I had this in view ever 
 since they were children ? I must and will have it so, 
 I tell you. Is not it, as it were, a marriage made 
 above ? They shall meet, I'm positive. 
 
 Med. Shall they ? Then they must meet where the 
 marriage was made ; for, hang me, if I think it will 
 ever happen below. 
 
 Sir C. Ha ! — and if that is the case — hang me, if 1 
 think you'll ever be at the celebration of it. 
 
 Med. Yet, let me tell you, Sir Christopher Curry, 
 my character is as unsullied as a sheet of white paper. 
 
 Sir C. Well said, old fool's cap ! and it's as mere 
 a blank as a sheet of white paper. You are honest, 
 old Medium, by comparison,, just as a fellow sentenced 
 
scene lh AN OPERA. 37 
 
 to transportation is happier than his companion con- 
 demned to the gallows — Very worthy, because you are 
 no rogue ; tender hearted, because you never go to 
 fires and executions ; and an affectionate father and 
 husband, because you never pinch your children, or 
 kick your wife out of bed. 
 
 Med. And that, as the world goes, is more than 
 every man can say for himself. Yet, since you force 
 me to speak my positive qualities — but, no matter,— 
 you remember me in London : didn't I, as member of 
 the Humane Society, bring a man out of the New 
 River, who, it was afterwards found, had done me an 
 injury ? 
 
 Sir C. And, damme, if I would not kick any man 
 into the New River that had done me an injury. 
 There's the difference of our honesty. Oons ! if you 
 want to be an honest fellow, act from the impulse of 
 nature. Why, you have no more gall than a pigeon. 
 
 Mid. Ha ! You're always so hasty ; among the 
 hodge-podge of your foibles, passion is always predo- 
 • minant 
 
 Sir C. So much the hetter.— — Foibles, quotha? 
 foibles are foils that give additional lustre to the gems 
 of virtue. You have not so many foils as I, perhaps. 
 
 Med. And what's more, I dont want 'em, sir Chris- 
 topher, I thank you. 
 
 Sir C. Very true, for the devil a gem have you to 
 set off with 'em. 
 
 Med. Well, well ; I never mention errors ; that, I 
 flatter myself, is no disagreeable quality. — It don't be^ 
 come me to say you are hot. 
 
 Sir C. 'Sblood ! but it does become you ; it be« 
 comes every man, especially an Englishman, to speal 
 the dictates of his heart. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. An English vessel, sir, just arrived in the hat 
 bour. 
 
 VOL. XIV, 9 
 
38 INKLE AND YARICO, act it, 
 
 Sir C. A vessel ! Od's my life ! — Now for the news 
 e»~If it is but as 1 hope — Any dispatches ? 
 
 Serv. This letter, sir, brought by a sailor from the 
 quay. 
 
 Med. Well, read, Sir Christopher. 
 
 Sir C [opening the letter.} Huzza ! here it is. He's 
 safe — safe and sound at Barbadoes. [Reading] Sir, 
 My master, Mr. Inkle, is just arrived in your har- 
 bour. Here read, read ! old Medium — 
 \Med. [reading] Urn — Your harbour — we were taken 
 up by an English vessel on the 14 th ult. He only 
 waits till I have puffed his hair, to pay his respeds to 
 you, and Miss. JSfarcissa. — In the mean time he has or- 
 dered me to brush up this letter for your honour from 
 your humble $erva7it to command, 
 
 Timothy Trudge. 
 
 Sir C. Hey day ! here's a stile ! the voyage has 
 jumbled the fellow's brains out of their places ; the 
 water has made his head turn round. But no matter, 
 mine turns round, too. I'll go and prepare Narcissa 
 directly, they shall be married, slap-dash, as soon as he 
 comes from the quay. From Neptune to Hymen ; 
 from the hammock to the bridal bed — Ha ! old boy ! 
 
 Med. Well, well, dont flurry yourself— you're so 
 hot ! 
 
 Sir C. Hot ! blood, arri't I in the West Indies ? 
 Arn't I Governor of Barbadoes ? He shall have her as 
 soon as he sets his foot on shore. — She shall rise to 
 him like Venus out of the sea. His hair puffed! He 
 ought to have been puffing, here, out of breath, by this 
 tune. 
 
 Med. Very true ; but Venus's husband is always 
 supposed to be lame, you know, Sir Christopher. 
 
 Sir C. Well, now do, my good fellow, run down to 
 the shore, and see what detains him. 
 
 [hurrying him off a 
 Med. Well, well ; I will, I will. [exit. 
 
 Sir Q, .In the mean time> I'll get ready Narcissa] 
 
scene 11. AN OPERA, S3 
 
 and all shall be concluded in a second. My heart's 
 set upon it. Poor fellow ! after all his rambles, and 
 tumbles, and jumbles, and fits of despair — 1 shall be 
 rejoiced to see him. I have not seen him since he 
 was that high.— But, zounds ! he's so tardy ! 
 Enter a servant. 
 
 Serv. A strange gentleman, sir, come from the quay, 
 desires to see you. 
 
 Sir C. From the quay ? Od's my life ! — 'Tis he — 
 'Tis Inkle! Show him up, directly, [exit servant] 
 The rogue is expeditious after all. I'm so happy. 
 
 Enter Campley. 
 My dear fellow ! [embracing him] I'm rejoiced to see 
 you. Welcome ; welcome here, with all my soul ! 
 
 Camp. This reception, Sir Christopher, is beyond 
 my warmest wishes. — Unknown to you — 
 
 Sir C. Aye, aye; we shall be better acquainted by 
 and by. Well, and how, eh ! Tell me ! But old Me- 
 dium and I have talked over your affair a hundred 
 times a day, ever since Narcissa arrived. 
 
 Camp. You surprise me ! Are you then really ac- 
 quainted with the whole affair? 
 
 Sir C. Every tittle. 
 
 Camp. And, can you, sir, pardon what is past? 
 
 Sir C. Pooh ! how could you help it ? 
 
 Camp. Very true — sailing in the same ship — and — 
 
 Sir C. Aye, aye; but we have had a hundred con- 
 jectures about you. Your despair and distress, and 
 all that Your's must have been a damned situation, 
 to say the truth. 
 
 Camp. Cruel indeed, Sir Christopher ! and I flatter 
 myself will move your compassion. I have been 
 almost inclined to despair, indeed, as you say, but 
 when you consider the past state of my mind — the 
 black prospect before me. 
 
 Sir C, Ha ! ha ! Black enough, [ dare say. 
 
 Camp. The difficulty I have felt in bringing myself 
 face to face to vou. 
 
40 INKLE AND YAR1CO, act u- 
 
 Sir C. That I am convinced of— but I knew you 
 would come the first opportunity. 
 
 Camp. Very true : yet the distance between the 
 Govenor of Barbadoes and myself. [bowing. 
 
 Sir C Yes — a devilish way asunder. 
 
 Camp. Granted, sir : which has distressed me with 
 the crudest doubts as to our meeting. 
 
 Sir C. It was a toss up. 
 
 Camp. The old gentleman seems devilish kind. 
 Now to soften him- [aside] Perhaps, sir, in your 
 younger days, you may have been in the same situa- 
 tion yourself. 
 
 Sir C. Who ? I ! sblood ! no, never in my life. 
 
 Camp. I wish you had, with all my soul, Sir Chris- 
 topher. 
 
 Sir C. Upon my soul, sir, I am very much obliged 
 to you. [bowing. 
 
 Camp. As what I now mention might have greater 
 weight with you. 
 
 Sir C. Pooh ! pr'ythee ! I tell you I pitied you from 
 the bottom of my heart. 
 
 Camp. Indeed ! If, with your leave, I may still 
 venture to mention Miss Narcissa — 
 
 Sir C. An impatient, sensible young dog ! like me 
 to a hair! Set your heart at rest, my boy. She's 
 your's ; your's before to-morrow morning. 
 
 Camp. Amazement ! I can scarce believe my senses. 
 
 Sir C. Zounds! you ought to be out of your sen- 
 ses : but despatch— make short work of it, ever while 
 you live, my boy. 
 
 Enter Narcissa and Patty. 
 Here, girl : here's your swain. [to JSTarcissa. 
 
 Camp. I just parted with my Narcissa, on the quay. 
 
 Sir C. Did you ! Ah, sly dog — had a meeting before 
 you came to the old gentleman. — But here — Take him, 
 and make much of him — and, for fear of further sepa- 
 rations, you shall e'en be tack'd together directly. 
 What say you, girl ? 
 
scene ii. AN OPERA. 41 
 
 Camp. Will my Narcissa consent to my happiness ? 
 
 Nar. I always obey my father's commands, with 
 pleasure, sir. 
 
 Sir C. Od ! I'm so happy, I hardly know which 
 way to turn ; but we'll have the carriage directly ; 
 drive down to the quay ; trundle old Spintext into 
 church ; and hey for matrimony ! 
 
 Camp. With all my heart, Sir Christopher; the 
 sooner the better. 
 
 Sir Christopher, Campley, JS/arcissa f Patty, 
 
 Sir C. YourColinettes, and Arriettes, 
 Your Damons of the grove, 
 Who like Fallals, and Pastorals 
 Waste years in love ! 
 But modern folks know Better jokes, 
 
 And, courting once begun, 
 To church they hop at once — and pop— 
 Egad, all's done ! 
 
 JUL In life we prance a country dance, 
 Where every couple stands ; 
 Their partners set a while curvet- 
 But soon join hands. 
 
 JSTar. When at our feet, so trim and neat, 
 The powder'd lover sues, 
 He vows he dies, the lady sighs, 
 
 But can't refuse. 
 Ah ! how can she unmov'd e're see 
 
 Her swain his death incur? 
 If once the Squire is seen expire, 
 He lives with her. 
 All. In life, &c. &c. 
 
 Patty. When John and Bet are fairly met, 
 John boldly tries his luck : 
 
42 INKLE AND YARICO. aci 
 
 He steals a buss, without more fuss, 
 
 The bargain's struck. 
 Whilst things below are going so, 
 
 Is Betty pray to blame ? 
 Who knows up stairs, her mistress fares 
 Just, just the same. 
 AIL In life we prance, &c. &c. 
 
 ACT THE THIRD. 
 
 SCENE f. 
 
 THE QUAY. 
 
 Mnter Patty. 
 
 Patty. Mercy on us ! \vhat a walk I have had of it ! 
 Well, matters go on swimmingly at the governor's— 
 The old gentleman has ordered the carriage, and the 
 young couple will be whisk'd, here, to church, in a 
 quarter of an hour. My business is to prevent young 
 sobersides, young Inkle, from appearing, to interrupt 
 the ceremony. — Ha ! here's the Crown, where 1 hear 
 he is hous'd. So now to find Trudge, and trump up 
 a story, in the true style of a chambermaid, (goes 
 into the house.) (Paty within.) I tell you it don't 
 signify, and I will come up. {Trudge, within.) But it 
 does signify, and you cant come up. 
 
 Re-enter Patty, with Trudge. 
 
 Patty. You had better say at once, I shan't. 
 
 Trudge. Well then, you shan't. 
 
 Patty. Savage ! Pretty behaviour you have pick'd 
 up among the Hottypots ! Your London civility, likft 
 
scene i. AN OPERA. 43 
 
 London itself, will soon be lost in smoke, Mr. Trudge; 
 and the politeness you have studied so long in Thread- 
 needle-street, blotted out by the blacks you have been 
 living with. 
 
 Trudge. No such thing ; I practised my politeness 
 all the while I was in the woods. Our very lodging 
 taught me good manners ; for I could never bring my- 
 self to go into it without bowing. 
 
 Patty. Don't tell me ! A mighty civil reception you 
 give a body, truly, after a six weeks parting. 
 
 Trudge. Gad, you're right : I am a little out here, 
 to be sure, (kisses her.) Well, how do you do ? 
 
 Patty. Pshaw, fellow ! I want none of your kisses. 
 
 Trudge. Oh ! very well — I'll take it again, (offers 
 io kiss her. 
 
 Patty. Be quiet : I want to see Mr. Inkle : I have 
 a message to him from Miss Narcissa. I shall get a 
 sight of him, now, I believe. 
 
 Trudge. May be not. He's a little busy at present. 
 
 Patty. Busy— ha! Plodding! What he's at his 
 multiplication again ? 
 
 Trudge Very likely ; so it would be a pitty to in- 
 ter upt him, you know. 
 
 Patty. Certainly ; and the whole of my business 
 was to prevent his hurrying himself— Tell him, we 
 shan't be ready to receive him, at the governor's, till 
 to-morrow, d'ye hear ? 
 
 Trudge. No? 
 
 Patty. No. Things are not prepared. The place 
 isn't in order; and the servants have not had proper 
 notice of the arrival. 
 
 Trudge. Oh ! let me alone to give the servants no- 
 tice — rat-tat-tat— It's all the notice we had in Thread- 
 needle-street of the arrival of a visitor. 
 
 Patty. Threadneedle-street ! Treadneedle-nonsense ! 
 I'd have you know we do every thing here with an 
 air. Matters have taken another turn—Style ! Style, 
 sir, is required here, I promise you. 
 
44 INKLE AND YARICO, act in, 
 
 Trudge. Turn — Style ! And pray what style will 
 serve your turn now, Madam Patty ? 
 
 Patty. A due dignity and decorum, to be sure. Sir 
 Christopher intends Mr, Inkle, you know, for his son- 
 in-law, and must receive him in public form, (which 
 can't be till to-morrow morning) for the honour of his 
 governorship : why the whole island will ring of it. 
 Trudge. The devil it will ! 
 
 Patty. Yes ; they've talk'd of nothing but my mis- 
 tress's beauty and fortune for these six weeks. Then 
 he'll be introduced to the bride, you know. 
 . Trudge. O, my poor master ! 
 
 Patty. Then a public breakfast ; then a procession; 
 then, if nothing happens to prevent it, he'll get into 
 church, and be married in a crack. 
 
 Trudge. Then he'll get into a damn'd scrape, in a 
 crack. Ah ! poor madam Yarico ! My poor pilgarlic 
 of a master, what will become of him ! [half aside. 
 
 Patty. Why, what's the matter with the bcoby ? 
 
 Trudge. Nothing, nothing he'll be hang'd for 
 
 poly- bigamy. 
 
 Patty. Polly who ? 
 Trudge. It must out — Patty ! 
 Patty. Well? 
 
 Trudge. Can you keep a secret ? 
 Patty. Try me! 
 
 Trudge. Then (whispering) my master keeps a girl. 
 Patty. Oh monstrous! another worn? n ? 
 Trudge. As sure as one and one makes two. 
 Patty, (aside) Rare news for my mistress ! — Why I 
 can hardly believe it ; the grave, sly, steady, sober Mr. 
 Inkle, do such a thing ! 
 
 Trudge. Pooh ! it's always your sly, sober fellows, 
 that go the most after the girls. 
 
 Patty. Well ; I should sooner suspect you. 
 Trudge. Me? Oh Lord! he! he!— Do, you think 
 any smart, tight, liitle, black-eyed wench, would be 
 struck with my figure ? [ conceitedly. 
 
scene i. AN OPERA. 45 
 
 Patty. Pshaw ! never mind your figure. Tell me 
 how it happened ? 
 
 Trudge. You shall hear: when the ship left us 
 ashore, my master turned as pale as a sheet of paper. 
 It isn't everybody that's blest with courage, Patty. 
 
 Patty. True ! 
 
 Trudge. However, I bid him cheer up; told him, 
 to stick to my elbow : took the lead, and began our 
 march. 
 
 Patty. Well? 
 
 Trudge. We had'nt gone far, when a damn'd one- 
 eyed black boar, that grinn'd like a devil, came down 
 the hill in a jog trot ! My master melted as fast as a 
 pot of pomatum ! 
 
 Patty. Mercy on us ! 
 
 Trudge. But what does I do, but whips out my desk 
 knife, that 1 us'd to cut the quills with at home; met 
 the monster, and slit up his throat like a pen— The 
 boar bled like a pig. 
 
 Patty. Lord ! Trudge, what a great traveller you 
 are ! 
 
 Trudge. Yes ; I remember we fed on the flitch for a 
 week. 
 
 Patty. Well, well ; but the lady. 
 
 Trudge. The lady ? Oh, true. By and by we came 
 to a cave — a large hollow room, under-ground, like 
 a warehouse in the Adelphi — Well! there wb were 
 half an hour, before J could get him to go in ; there's 
 no accounting for fear, you know. At last, in we went 
 to a place hung round with skins, as it might be a fur- 
 rier's shop, and there was a fine lady, snoring on a 
 bow and arrows. 
 
 Patty. What, all alone ? 
 
 Trudge. Eh ! No — no—Hum— She had a young 
 
 lion by way of a lap-dog. 
 
 Patty. Gemini ; what did you do ? 
 Trudge. Gave her a jog, and she open'd her eyes 
 she struck my master immediately. 
 
4t> INKLE AND YAKICG, act in. 
 
 Patty. Mercy on us ! with what ? 
 
 Trudge. With her beauty, you ninny, to be sure : 
 and they soon brought matters to bear. The wolves 
 witness' d the contract — I gave her away — The crows 
 croak'd amen; and we had board and lodging for 
 nothing. 
 
 Patty. And this is she he has brought to Barbadoes? 
 
 Trudge. The same. 
 
 Patty. Well; and tell me, Trudge; she's pretty, 
 you say — Is she fair or brown ? or 
 
 Trudge. Um ! she's a good comely copper. 
 
 Patty. How ! a tawney ? 
 
 Trudge. Yes, quite dark ; but very elegant ; like a 
 Wedgwood tea-pot. 
 
 Patty. Oh ! the monster ! the filthy fellow ! Live 
 with a black-a-moor ! 
 
 Trudge. Why, there's no great harm in't, I hope ? 
 
 Patty. Faugh ! I wou'dn't let him kiss me for the 
 world : he'd make my face all smutty. 
 
 Trudge. Zounds ! you are mighty nice all of a sud- 
 den ; but I'd have you to know, madam Patty, that 
 blackamoor ladies, as you call 'em, are some of the 
 very few, whose complexions never rub off! S'bud, if 
 they did, Wows and I shou'd have changed faces by 
 this time — But mum ; not a word for your life. 
 
 Patty. Not f ! except to the Governor and family. 
 (aside) But I must run — and, remember, Trudge, if 
 your master has made a mistake here, he has himself 
 to thank for his pains. [exit. 
 
 Trudge. Pshaw ! these girls are so plaguy proud of 
 their white and red ! but I won't be shamed out of 
 Wows, that's flat. Master, to be sure, while we were 
 in the forest, taught Yarico to read, with his pencil 
 and pocket-book. What then ? Wows comes on fine 
 and fast in her lessons. A little awkward at first to 
 be sure. Ha! ha! She's so used to feed with her 
 hands, that I can't get her to eat her victuals, in a 
 genteel, Christian way, for the soul of me ; when she 
 
scene *. AN OPERA. 4? 
 
 has stuck a morsel on her fork, she don't know how to 
 guide it ; but pops up her knuckles to her mouth, and 
 the meat goes up to her ear. But, no matter — After 
 all the fine, flashy London girls, Wowski's the wench 
 for my money. 
 
 A Clerk I was in London gay, 
 
 Jemmy linkum feedle, 
 And went in boots to see the play, 
 
 Merry fiddlem tweedle. 
 I march'd the lobby, twirl' d my stick, 
 
 Diddle, daddle, deedle ; 
 The girls all cry'd, " He's quite the kick," 
 
 Oh, jemmy linkum feedle. 
 
 Hey ! for America I sail, 
 
 Yankee doodle deedle ; 
 The sailor boys cry'd, " smoke his tail ! w 
 
 Jemmy linkum feedle. 
 On English belles I turn'd my back, 
 
 Diddle daddle deedle; 
 And got a foreign Fair, quite Black, 
 
 O twaddle, twaddle, tweedle ! 
 
 Your London girls, with roguish trip, 
 
 Wheedle, wheedle, wheedle, 
 May boast their pouting under-lip, 
 
 Fiddle, faddle, feedle. 
 My Wows wou'd beat a hundred such, 
 
 Diddle, daddle, deedle, 
 Whose upper-lip pouts twice as much, 
 
 O, pretty double wheedle ! 
 
 Rings I'll buy to deck her toes ; 
 
 Jemmy linkum feedle ; 
 A feather fine shall grace her nose ; 
 
 Waving siddle seedle, 
 
48 INKLE AND YARICO, act in. 
 
 With jealousy I ne'er shall burst ; 
 
 Who'd steal my bone of bone-a ? 
 A white Othello, I can trust 
 
 A dingy Desdemona. [exit. 
 
 SCENE II. A ROOM IN THE CROWN. 
 
 Enter Inkle. 
 
 Inkle. I know not what to think — I have given her 
 distant hints of parting ; but still, so strong her confi- 
 dence in my affection she prattles on without regard- 
 ing me. Poor Yarico ! I must not — cannot quit her. 
 When I would speak, her look, her mere simplicity 
 disarms me : I dare not wound such innocence. Sim- 
 plicity is like a smiling babe ; which, to the ruffian, 
 that would murder it, stretching its little, naked, 
 helpless arms, pleads, speechless, its own cause. And 
 yet Narcissa's family — 
 
 Enter Trudge. 
 
 Trudge. There he is, like a beau bespeaking a coat 
 —doubting which colour to choose — sir — 
 
 Inkle. What now? 
 
 Trudge. Nothing unexpected, sir : — I hope you 
 won't be angry. 
 
 Inkle. Angry ! 
 
 Trudge. I'm sorry for it : but I am come to give 
 you joy, sir ! 
 
 Inkle. Joy' of what? 
 
 Tradge. A wife, sir ; a white one. — I know it will 
 vex you, but Miss Narcissa means to make you happy s 
 to-morrow morning. 
 
 Inkle. To-morrow ! 
 
 Trude. Yes, sir ; and as I have been out of employ. 
 in both my capacities, lately, after I have dressed your 
 hair, I may draw up the marriage articles. 
 
 Inkle. Whence comes your intelligence, sir f 
 
scene II. AN OPERA. 49 
 
 Trudge. Patty told me all that has passed in the Go- 
 vernor's family, on the quay, sir. Women, you know, 
 can never keep a secret. You'll be introduced in 
 form, with the whole island to witness it. 
 
 Inkle. So public too ! Unlucky ! 
 
 Trudge. There will be nothing but rejoicings, in 
 compliment to the wedding, she tells me ; all noise and 
 uproar ! Married people like it, they say. 
 
 Inkle. Strange ! That I should be so blind to my 
 interest, as to be the only person this distresses ! 
 
 Trudge. They are talking of nothing else but the 
 match, it seems. 
 
 Inkle. Confusion ! How can I, in honour, retract ? 
 
 Trudge. And the bride's merits 
 
 Inkle. True! — A fund of merits! — I would not — 
 but from necessity — a case so nice as this — I — would 
 not wish to retract. 
 
 Trudge. Then they call her so handsome. 
 
 Inkle. Very true! so handsome! the whole world 
 would laugh at me : they'd call it folly to retract. 
 
 Trudge. And then they say so much of her fortune. 
 
 Inkle. O death ! it would be madness to retract. 
 Surely, my faculties have slept, and this long parting, 
 from my Narcissa, has blunted my sense of her accom- 
 plishments. 'Tis this alone makes me so weak and 
 wavering. I'll see her immediately. Agoing. 
 
 Trudge. Stay, stay, sir ; I am desired to tell you, 
 the Governor won't open his gates to us till to-mor- 
 row morning, and is now making preparations to re- 
 ceive you at breakfast, with all the honours of matri- 
 mony. 
 
 Inkle. Well, be it so ; it will give me time, at all 
 events, to put my affairs in train. 
 
 Trudge. Yes ; it's a short respite before execution ; 
 and if your honour was to go and comfort poor madam 
 Yarico 
 
 Inkle. Damnation! Scoundrel, how dare you offer 
 your advice ?— I dread to think of her ! 
 
SO INKLE AND YARICO, act m. 
 
 Trudge. I've done, sir, IVe done — But I know I 
 should blubber over Wows all. night, if I thought of 
 parting with her in the morning. 
 
 Inkle. Insolence ! begone, sir ! 
 
 Trudge. Lord, sir, I only 
 
 Inkle. Get down stairs, sir, directly. 
 
 Trudge, (going out,) Ah ! you may well put your 
 hand to your head ; and a bad head it must be, to for- 
 get that Madam Yarico prevented her countrymen 
 from peeling off the upper part of it. [aside. 
 
 [exit. 
 
 Inkle. 'Sdeath, what am I about ? How have I slum- 
 bered ? — Is it I ? — I — who, in London, laughed at the 
 younkers of the town — and when I saw their chariots, 
 with some fine, tempting girl, perked in the corner, 
 come shopping to the city, would cry — Ah ! — there sits 
 ruin — there flies the Greenhorn's money! then won- 
 dered with myself how men could trifle time on wo- 
 men ; or, indeed, think of any women without fortunes. 
 And now, forsooth, it rests with me to turn romantic 
 puppy, and give up all for love. — Give up ! — Oh, 
 monstrous folly ! — thirty thousand pounds ! 
 Trudge, (peeping in at the door.) 
 
 Trudge. May I come in, sir ? 
 
 Inkle. What does the booby want ? 
 
 Trudge. Sir, your uncle wants to see you. 
 
 Inkle. Mr. Medium ! show him up directly. 
 
 [exit Trudge. 
 He must not know of this. To-morrow ! — I wish this 
 marriage were more distant, that I might break it to 
 her by degrees ! she'd take my purpose better, were it 
 less suddenly delivered. 
 
 Enter Medium. 
 
 Med. Ah, here he is ! Give me your hand, nephew ! 
 welcome, welcome to Barbadoes, with all my heart. 
 
 Inkle. I am glad to meet you here, uncle ! 
 
 Med. That you are, that you are, Pm sure. Lord ! 
 lord I when we parted last, how I wished we were in 
 
scene u. AN OPERA. 51 
 
 a room together, if it was but the black hole ! I have 
 not been able to sleep o'nights, for thinking of you. 
 I've laid awake, and fancied I saw you sleeping your 
 last, with your head in the lion's mouth, for a night- 
 cap; and I've never seen a bear brought over, to 
 dance about the street, but I thought you might be 
 bobbing up and down in its belly. 
 
 Inkle. 1 am very much obliged to you. 
 
 Med. Ay, ay, I am happy enough to find you safe 
 and sound, I promise you. But you have a fine pros- 
 pect before you now, young man. I am come to take 
 you with me to Sir Christopher, who is impatient to 
 see you. 
 
 Inkle. To-morrow, I hear, he expects me. 
 
 Med. To-morrow ! directly — this — moment — in half 
 a second. — I left him standing on tip-toe, as he calls 
 it, to embrace you ; and he's standing on tip-toe now 
 in the great parlour, and there he'll stand till you come 
 to him. 
 
 Inkle. Is he so hasty ? 
 
 Med. Hasty ! he's all pepper — and wonders you are 
 not with him, before its possible to get at him. Hasty 
 indeed ! Why, he vows you shall have his daugh- 
 ter this very night. 
 
 Inkle. What a situation .' 
 
 Med. Why, It's hardly fair just after a voyage. 
 But come, bustle, bustle, he'll think you neglect him. 
 He's rare and touchy, I can tell you ; and if he once 
 takes it in his head that you show the least slight to 
 his daughter, it would knock up all your schemes in a 
 ramute. 
 
 Inkle. Confusion ! if he should hear of Yarico ! 
 
 [aside, 
 
 Med. But at present you are all and all with him ? 
 he has been telling me his intentions these six weeks : 
 you'll be a fine warm husband, I promise you. 
 
 Inkle. This cursed connexion ! [aside. 
 
 Med. It is not for me, though, to tell you how to 
 
.52 INKLE AND YARICO, act hi, 
 
 play your cards; you are a prudent young man, and 
 *" can make calculations in a wood. 
 
 Inkle. Fool ! fool ! fool ! [aside. 
 
 Med. Why, what the devil is the matter with you ? 
 
 Inkle. It must be done effectually, or all is lost ; 
 mere parting would not conceal it. [aside. 
 
 Med, Ah ! now he's got to his damned square root 
 again, I suppose, and old Nick would not move him— 
 why, Nephew ! 
 
 Inkle. The planter that I spoke with cannot be ar- 
 rived — but time is precious — the first I meet — common 
 prudence now demands it. I'm fixed ; I'll part with 
 her. [aside'.] -• [eocif 
 
 Med. Damn me, but he's mad ! the woods have 
 turned the poor man's brains ; he's. scalped and gone 
 crazy ! hoho ! inkle ! nephew ! gad, I'll spoil your 
 arithmetic, I warrant me. [exit 
 
 SCENE III.— THE QUAY. 
 
 Enter Sir Christopher Curry. 
 
 Sir C. Ods my life ! I can scarce contain ray happi- 
 ness. 1 have left them safe in church in the middle of 
 the ceiemony. I ought to have given Narcissa away, 
 they told me ; but I capered about so much for joy, 
 that old Spintext advised me to go and cool my heels 
 on the quay, till it was all over. Od, I'm so happy ; 
 and they shall see, now, what an old fellow can do at 
 a wedding. 
 
 Enter Inkle. 
 
 Inkle. Now for dispatch ! hark'ee, old gentleman ! 
 [to the Governor. 
 
 Sir C. Well, young gentleman ? 
 
 Inkle. If I mistake not, I know your business here. 
 
 SirC. 'Egad I believe half the island knows it, by 
 this time. 
 
scene ut. AN OPERA. i& 
 
 Inkle. Then to the point—I have a female, whom I 
 wish to part with. 
 
 Sir C. Very likely ; it's a common ease now-a-days,, 
 with many a man. 
 
 Inkle. If you could satisfy me you would use her 
 mildly, and treat her with more kindness than is usual 
 — for I can tell you she's of no common stamp-— per- 
 haps we might agree. 
 
 Sir C. Oho ! a slave ! faith now I think on't my 
 daughter may want an attendant or two extraordinary; 
 and as you say she's a delicate t girl, above the common 
 run, and none of your thick lipped, fat nosed, squabby 9 
 dumpling dowdies, I dont much care if— 
 
 Inkle. And for her treatment — 
 
 Sir C. Look ye, young man ; I love to be plain : 
 I shall treat her a good deal better than you would, I 
 I fancy ; for, though I witness this custom every day, 
 I can't help thinking the only excuse for buying our 
 fellow creatures, is to rescue 'em from the hands of 
 those who are unfeeling enough to bring them to mar- 
 ket. 
 
 Inkle. Fair words, old gentleman ; an Englishman 
 won't put up an affront. 
 
 Sir C. An Englishman ! more shame for you ! men, 
 who so fully feel the blessings of liberty, are doubly 
 cruel in depriving the helpless of their freedom. 
 
 Inkle. Let me assure you, Sir, 'tis not my occupa- 
 tion ; but for a private reason— an instant pressing ne= 
 eessity— 
 
 Sir C. Well, well, I have a pressing necessity, too ; 
 I can't stand to talk now ; I expect company hero 
 presently ; but if you'll ask for me to-morrow, at the 
 castle— 
 
 Inkle. The castle ! 
 
 Sir C. Aye, sir, the castle ; the Governor's castle; 
 Isnown all over Barbadoes. 
 
 Inkle. 'Sdeath, this man must be On the Governor's 
 establishment : —his steward, perhaps, and sent after 
 10 
 
54 liYKLE AND YARICO, act hi. 
 
 me, while Sir Christopher is impatiently waiting for 
 me. I've gone too far; my secret -may be known — 
 As 'tis I'll win this fellow to my interest. [to him.] 
 
 One word more, sir : my business must be done im- 
 mediately ; and as you seem acquainted at the castle, 
 if you should see me there — and there I mean to sleep 
 to-night- 
 ly Sir C. The devil you do ! 
 
 Inkle. Your finger on your lips ; and never breathe 
 a syllable of this transaction. 
 
 Sir C. No ! why not ? 
 
 Inkle. Because, for reasons, which perhaps 3 T ou'll 
 know to-morrow, I might be injured with the Gover- 
 nor, whose most particular friend I am. 
 
 .Sir C. So ! here's a particular friend of mine, com- 
 ing to sleep at my house, that I never saw in my life. 
 I'll sound this fellow, [aside] I fancy, young gen- 
 tleman, as you are such a bosom friend of the Gover- 
 nor's, you can hardly do any thing to alter your situa- 
 tion with him. 
 
 Inkle. Oh ! pardon me ; but you'll find that here- 
 after — besides, you, doubtless, know his character ? 
 
 Sir C Oh, as well as my own. But let's under- 
 stand one another. You must trust me, now you've 
 gone so far. You are acquainted with his character, 
 no doubt, to a hair ? 
 
 Inkle. I am — I see we shall understand each other. 
 You know him too, I see, as well as I. — A very touchy, 
 testy, hot old fellow. 
 
 Sir C. Here's a scoundrel ! I hot and touchy ! 
 zounds ! I can hardly contain my passion ! — but I 
 won't discover myself. I'll see the bottom of this— - 
 [to him] Well now, as we seem to have come to a to- 
 lerable explanation — let's proceed to business— bring 
 me the woman. 
 
 Inkle. No ; there you must excuse me. I rather 
 would avoid seeing her more ; and wish it, to be settled 
 
scene in. AN OPERA. #5 
 
 without my seeming interference. My presence might 
 distress her — You conceive me ? 
 
 Sir C. Zounds! what an unfeeling rascal! — the 
 poor girl's in love with him, I suppose. No, no, fair 
 and open. My dealing's with you, and you, only ; 
 I see her now, or I declare off. 
 
 Inkle. Well then, you must be satisfied: yonder's 
 my servant--ha — a thought has struck me. Come 
 here, sir. 
 
 Enter Trugde. 
 I'll write my purpose, and send it her by him. It is 
 lucky that I taught her to decipher characters : my 
 labour now is paid, [takes out his pocket-book and writes] 
 —This is somewhat less abrupt ; 'twill soften matters. 
 [to himself] — Give this to Yarico ; then bring her 
 hither with you. [going. 
 
 Trudge. I shall, sir. 
 
 Innle. Stay ; come back. This soft fool, unin- 
 structed, may add to her distress: his drivelling sym- 
 pathy may feed her grief, instead of soothing it. When 
 she has read this paper, seem to make light of it ; tell 
 her it is a thing of course, done purely for her good. 
 I here inform her that I must part with her. D'ye 
 understand your lesson. 
 
 Trudge. Pa — part with ma — dam Ya-ric-o ! 
 
 Inkle. Why does the blockhead stammer ! I have 
 my reasons. No muttering — and let me tell you, sir, if 
 your rare bargain were gone too, 'twould be the better : 
 she may babble our story of the forest, and spoil my 
 fortune. 
 
 Trudge. I'm sorry for it, sir : I have lived with you 
 a long while ; I've half a year's wages too due the 25th 
 ultimo, due for dressing your hair and scribbling your 
 parchments : but, take my scribbling, take my frizzing, 
 take my wages; and I and Wows will take ourselves 
 off together. She saved my life, and rot me if any 
 thing but death shall part us. 
 
 Inkle. Impertinent ! Go ? and deliver your message 
 
ii*t> INKLE AND YARICO, actiix. 
 
 Trudge. I'm gone, sir. Lord ! lord •' I never car- 
 ried a letter with such ill will in all my born days. 
 
 [exit 
 
 Sir C. Well— shall I see the girl I 
 
 Inkle. She'll be here presently. One thing I had 
 forgot: when she is yours, I need not caution you, 
 after the hints I've given, to keep her from the castle. 
 If Sir Christopher should see her, 'twould lead, you 
 know, to a discovery of what I wish concealed. 
 
 Sir C. Depend upon me — Sir Christopher will know 
 no more of our meeting, than he does at this moment. 
 
 Inkle. Your secrecy shall not be unrewarded: I'll 
 recommend you, particularly, to his good graces. 
 
 Sir C. Thank ye, thank ye ; but I'm pretty much in- 
 his good graces, as it is : I don't know any body he has 
 a greater respect for. 
 
 Re-enter Trudge. 
 
 Inkle. Now, sir, have you performed your message ? 
 
 Trudge. Yes, I gave her the letter. 
 
 Inkle. And where is Yarico? Did she say she'd 
 come ? Didn't you do as you were ordered ? Dind't 
 you speak to her ? 
 
 Trudge. I couldn't, sir, I couldn't: I intended to 
 say what you bid me — but I felt such a pain in my 
 throat, I could'nt speak a word, for the soul of me; 
 so, sir, I fell a crying. 
 
 Inkle. Blockhead ! 
 
 Sir C. 'Sblood ! but he's a very honest blockhead 
 Tell me, my good fellow, what said the wench ? 
 
 Trudge. Nothing at all, sir. She sat down with her 
 two hands clasped on her knees, and looked so piti- 
 fully in my face, I could not stand it. Oh, here she 
 comes. I'll go and find Wows : if I must be melan- 
 choly, she shall keep me company. [exit 
 
 Sir C. Ods my life, as comely a wencti as ever I saw. 
 Enter Yarico, who looks for some time in Inkle's face?, 
 bursts into tears, and Jails on his neck. 
 
 Inkle, In tears ! nay, Yarico ! why this ? 
 
scene in. AN OPERA. 57 
 
 Yar. Oh do not — do not leave me ! 
 
 Inkle. Why, simple girl ! I'm labouring for your 
 good. My interest, here, is nothing : I can do nothing 
 from myself, you arj^ ignorant of our country's customs. 
 I must give way to men more powerful, who will not 
 have me with you. But see, my Yarico, ever anxious 
 for your welfare, I've found a kind, good person, who 
 will protect you. 
 
 Yar. Ah ! why not you protect me ? 
 
 Inkle. I have no means — how can I ? 
 
 Yar. Just as I sheltered you. Take me to yonder 
 mountain, where 1 see no smoke from tall, high houses, 
 filled with your cruel countrymen. None of your 
 princes, there, will come to take me from you. And 
 should they stray that way, we'll find a lurking place, 
 just like my own poor cave; where many a day I sat 
 beside you, and blessed the chance that brought you 
 to it— that I might save your life. 
 
 Sir C. His life ! Zounds ! my blood boils at the 
 scoundrel's ingratitude ! 
 
 Yar. Come, come, let's go. I always feared these 
 cities. Let's fly and seek the woods ; and there we'll 
 wander hand in hand together. No cares shall vex 
 us then — We'll let the day glide by in idleness ; and 
 you shall sit in the shade, and watch the sun beam 
 playing on the brook, while I sing the song that pleases 
 you. No cares, love, but for food — and we'll live 
 cheerily, I warrant — In the fresh, early morning, you 
 shall hunt down our game, and I will pick vou berries 
 —and then, at night, I'll trim our bed of leaves, and 
 lie me down in peace — Oh ! we shall be so happy ! 
 
 Inkle. Hear me, Yarico. My countrymen and yours 
 differ as much in minds as in complexions. We were 
 not born to live in woods and caves— to seek subsist- 
 ence by pursuing beasts. We Christians, girl, hunt 
 money ; a thing unknown to you. — But, here, 'tis 
 money which brings us ease, plenty, command, power, 
 every thing ; and of course happiness. You are the 
 
5S INKLE AND YARICO, act m. 
 
 bar to my attaining this ; therefore 'tis necessary for 
 my good — and which I think you value-— 
 \ Yar. You know I do; so much, that it would 
 break my heart to leave you. 
 
 Inkle. But we must part : if you are seen with me, 
 I shall lose all. 
 
 Yar. I gave up all for you — my friends — my coun- 
 try : all that was dear to me : and still grown dearer 
 since you sheltered there. All, all was left for you — 
 and were it now to do again — again I'd cross the seas, 
 and follow you, all the world over. 
 
 Inkle. We idle time ; sir, she is your's. See you 
 obey this gentleman ; 'twill be the better for you. 
 
 [going. 
 
 Yar. O, barbarous ! (holding him) Do not, do not 
 abondon me ! 
 
 Inkle. No more. 
 
 Yar. Stay but a little : I shan't live long to be a 
 burden to you : your cruelty has cut me to the heart. 
 Protect me but a little — or I'll obey this man, and un- 
 dergo all hardships for your good ; stay but to witness 
 'em. I soon shall sink with grief; tarry till then ; and 
 hear me bless your name when I am dying ; and beg 
 you, now and then, when I am gone, to heave a sigh 
 for your poor Yarico. 
 
 Inkle. I dare not listen You, sir, I hope, will take 
 good care of her. [going. 
 
 Sir C. Care of her ! — that I will — I'll cherish her 
 like my own daughter ; and pour balm into the heart 
 of a poor, innocent girl, that has been wounded by the 
 artifices of a scoundrel. 
 
 Inlke. Ha ! 'Sdeath, sir, how dare you ! 
 
 Sir C. 'Sdeath, sir, how dare you look an honest man 
 in the face ? 
 
 Inkle. Sir, you shall feel — 
 Sir C. Feel ! — It's more than ever you did, I be- 
 lieve. Mean, sordid, wretch! dead to all sense of 
 honour, gratitude, or liumanity — I never heard of such 
 
scene in. AN OPERA. 53 
 
 barbarity ! I have a son-in-law, w%o has been left in 
 the same situation ; but, if I thought him capable of 
 such cruelty, dam'me if I would not turn him to sea, 
 with a peck loaf, in a cockle shell. Come, come, 
 cheer up, my girl ! You shan't want a friend to pro- 
 tect you, I warrant you. [taking Yarico by the hand. 
 
 Inkle. Insolence ! The governor shall hear of this 
 insult. 
 
 Sir C. The governor ! liar ! cheat ! rogue ! impos- 
 tor ! breaking all ties you ought to keep, and pretend- 
 ing to those you have no right to. The governor never 
 had such a fellow in the whole catalogue of his ac- 
 quaintance — the governor disowns you — the governor 
 disclaims you— the governor abhors you ; and to your 
 utter confusion, here stands the governor to tell you 
 so. Here stands old Curry, who never talked to a 
 rogue without telling him what he thought of him. 
 
 Inkle. Sir Christopher ! — Lost and undone ! 
 
 Med. [without] Holo ! Young Multiplication! 
 Zounds ! I have been peeping in every cranny of the 
 house. Why, young Rule of Three ! [enters from 
 the inn] Oh, here you are at last — Ah, Sir Christo- 
 pher ! What are you there ! too impatient to wait at 
 home. But here's one that what will make you easy, 
 1 fancy. [tapping Inkle on the shoulder. 
 
 Sir C. How came you to know him ? 
 
 Med. Ha! ha! Well, that's curious enough too. So 
 you have been talking here, without finding out each 
 other. 
 
 Sir C. No, no ; I have found him out with a ven- 
 geance. 
 
 Med. Not you. Why this is the dear boy. It's 
 my nephew, that is ; your son-in-law, that is to be. 
 It's Inkle. 
 
 Sir C. It's a lie ; and you're a purblind old booby 
 —and this dear boy is a damned scoundrel. 
 
 Med. Hey-dey, what's the meaning of this ? One 
 was mad before, and he has bit the other, I suppose, 
 
6P INKLE AND YAR1C0, act hi. 
 
 . Sir C. But here comes the dear boy — the true boy 
 -r-the jolly boy, piping hot from church, with my 
 daughter. 
 
 Enter Campley, JVarcissa, and Patty. 
 
 Med. Campley ! 
 
 Sir C. Who ? Campley ;•— it's no such thing. 
 
 Camp. That's my name, indeed, Sir Christopher. 
 
 Sir C. The devil it is! And how came you, sir, to 
 impose upon me, and assume the name of Inkle? A 
 name which every man of honesty ought to be ashamed 
 of. 
 
 Camp. I never did, sir. — Since I sailed from Eng- 
 land with yoiir daughter, my affection has daily in- 
 creased : and when I came to explain myself to you, 
 by a number of concurring circumstances, which J am 
 now partly acquainted with, you mistook me for that 
 gentleman. Yet had I even then been aware of your 
 mistake, I must confess, the regard for my own happi- 
 ness would have tempted me to let you remain unde- 
 ceived. 
 
 Sir C. And did you, Narcissa, join in — 
 
 War. How could I, my dear sir, disobey you ? 
 
 Patty. Lord, your honour, what young lady could 
 refuse a captain ? 
 
 Camp. 1 am a soldier, sir Christopher. Love and 
 War is the soldier's motto ; though my income is tri- 
 fling to your intended son-in-law's, still the chance of 
 war has enabled me to support the object of my love 
 above indigence. Her fortune, Sir Christopher, I do 
 not consider myself by any means entitled to. 
 
 Sir C. 'Sblood ? but you must though. Give me 
 your hand, my young Mars, and bless you both toge- 
 ther .'—-Thank you, thank you for cheating an old fel- 
 low into giving his daughter to a lad of spirit, when he 
 was going to throw her away upon one, in whose 
 breast the mean passion of avarice smothers the small*- 
 est spark of affection, or humanity. 
 
 Inkle. Confusion ! 
 
scene in. AN OPERA. 61 
 
 Mar. I have this moment heard a story of a trans- 
 action in the forest, which, I own, would have ren- 
 dered compliance with your former commands very 
 disagreeable. 
 
 Patty. Yes, sir, I told my mistress he had brought 
 over a hotty-pot gentlewoman. 
 
 Sir C. Yes, but he would have left her for you ; [to 
 JSTarcissa] and you for his interest; and sold you, 
 perhaps, as he has this poor girl, to me, as a requital 
 for preserving his life. 
 
 JYar. How ! 
 
 Enter Trudge and Wcwski. 
 
 Trudge. Come along, Wows ! take a long last leave 
 of your poor mistress : throw your pretty ebony arms 
 about her neck. 
 
 Wows. No, no ; — she not go ; you not leave poor 
 Wowski. ^ [throwing her arms about .Yarico. 
 
 Sir C. Poor girl! a companion, I take it ! 
 
 Trudge. A thing of my own, sir. I could'nt help 
 
 following my master's example in the woods- Like 
 
 master, like man, sir. 
 
 Sir C. But you would not sell her, and be hang'd to 
 you, you dog, would you ? 
 
 Trudge. Hang me, like a dog, if I would, sir. 
 
 Sir C. So say I, to every fellow that breaks an obli- 
 gation due to the feeling of a man. But, old Medium, 
 what have you to say for your hopeful nephew ? 
 
 Med. I never speak ill of my friends, sir Christopher, 
 
 Sir C. Pshaw ! 
 
 Inkle. Then let me speak : hear me defend a con- 
 duct / 
 
 Sir C. Defend ! Zounds ! plead guilty at once — it's 
 the only hope of obtaining mercy. 
 
 Inkle. Suppose, old gentleman, you had a son ? 
 
 Sir C. 'Sblood ! then I'd make him an honest fel- 
 , low ; and teach hira that the feeling heart never knows 
 greater pride than when it's employed in giving suc- 
 cour to the unfortunate. I'd teach him to be his fa- 
 ther's own son to a hair. 
 
(# s INKLE AND YARICO. act hi. 
 
 Inkle. Even so my father tutored me : from infancy, 
 bending my tender mind, like a young sapling, to his 
 will. — Interest was the grand prop round which he 
 twined my pliant green affections : taught me in child- 
 hood to repeat old sayings — all tending to his own fixed 
 principles, and the first sentence that I ever lisped, 
 was charity begins at home. 
 
 Sir C. I shall never like a proverb again, as long 
 as I live. 
 
 Inkle. As I grew up, he'd prove — and by example 
 —were I in want, I might even starve, for what the 
 world cared for their neighbours ; why then should I 
 care for the world ! men now lived for themselves. 
 These were his doctrines : then, sir, what would you 
 say, should I, in spite of habit, precept, education, fly 
 into my father's face, and spurn his councils ? 
 
 Sir C. Say ! why, that you were a damned honest, 
 undutiful fellow. O curse such principles ! principles, 
 which destroy all confidence between man and man — 
 Principles, which none but a rogue could instil, and 
 none but a rogue could imbibe. — Principles— — 
 
 Inkle, Which I renounce. 
 
 Sir C. Eh I 
 
 Inkle. Renounce entirely. Ill-founded precept too 
 long has steeled my breast — but still 'tis vulnerable — 
 this trial was too much — Nature, against habit com- 
 bating within me, has penetrated to my heart ; a heart, 
 I own, long callous to the feelings of sensibility ; but 
 now it bleeds — and bleeds for my poor Yarico. Oh, 
 let me clasp her to it, while 'tis glowing, and mingle 
 tears of love and penitence. [embracing her. 
 
 Trudge, (capering about) Wows, give me a kiss ! 
 [ Wowski goes to Trudge. 
 
 Yar. And shall we — shall we be happy ? 
 
 Inkle. Aye ; ever, ever, Yarico. 
 
 Yar. I knew we should— and yet I feared— but 
 shall I still watch over you ? Oh ! love, you surely 
 
scene hi. AN OPERA, £3 
 
 gave your Yarico such pain, only to make her feel 
 this happiness the greater. 
 
 Wows, (going to Yarico.) Oh Wow ski so happy ! 
 -—and yet I think I not glad neither. 
 
 Trudge. Eh, Wows ! How ! — why not ? 
 
 Wows. 'Cause I can't help cry. 
 
 Sir C. Then, if that's the case — curse me, if I think 
 I'm very glad either. What the plague's the matter 
 with my eyes? — Young man, your hand — I am now 
 proud and happy to shake it. 
 
 Med. Well, sir Christopher, what do you say to my 
 hopeful nephew now ? 
 
 Sir C. Say ! why, confound the fellow, I say, that 
 is ungenerous enough to remember the bad action of 
 a man who has virtue left in his heart to repent it. — 
 As for you, my good fellow, (to Trudge) I must, with 
 your master's permission, employ you myself. 
 
 Trudge. O rare ! — Bless your honour !— Wows ! 
 you'll be lady, you jade, to a governor's factotum. 
 
 Wows. Iss. — I lady Jacktotum. 
 
 Sir C. And now, my young folks, we'll drive home, 
 and celebrate the wedding. Od's my life ! I long to 
 be shaking a foot at the fiddles, and I shall dance ten 
 times the lighter, for reforming an Inkle, while I have 
 it in my power to reward the innocence of a Yarico, 
 
 Campley. Come, let us dance and sing, 
 
 While all Barbadoes bells shall ring 5 
 Love scrapes the fiddle string, 
 
 And Venus plays the lute ; 
 Hymen gay, foots away, 
 Happy at our wedding-day, 
 Cocks his chin, and figures in, 
 To tabor, fife, and flute. 
 Chorus. Come than, fe 
 
64 INKLE AND YARICO. act m: 
 
 JVareissa. Since thus each anxious care 
 Is vanished into empty air, 
 Ah ! how can I forbear 
 
 To join the jocund dance ? 
 To and fro, couples go, 
 On the light fantastic toe, 
 While with glee, merrily, 
 
 The rosy hour's advance. 
 
 Yarico. When first the swelling sea 
 Hither bore my love and me, 
 What then my fate would be, 
 
 Little did I think— 
 Doom'd to know care and woe, 
 Happy still is Yarico ; 
 Since her love will constant prove, 
 And nobly scorn to shrink. 
 
 Wowski. Whilst all around rejoice, 
 
 Pipe and tabor raise the voice, 
 It can't be Wowski's choice, 
 
 Whilst Trudge's, to be dumb. 
 No, no, dey blythe and gay, 
 
 Shall like massy, missy play, 
 Dance and sing, hey ding, ding, 
 
 Strike fiddle and beat drum. 
 
 Trudge. 'Sbobs ! now I'm fix'd for love, 
 
 My fortune's fair, though black's my wife, 
 Who fears domestic strife — 
 
 Who cares now a sous ! 
 Merry cheer my dingy dear 
 Shall find with her Factotum here ; 
 Night and day, I'll frisk and play 
 
 About the house with Wows. 
 
 JnJc1& Love's convert here behold, 
 
 Banish' d now my thirst of gold., 
 
s.cENEifr. AN OPEKA„ 
 
 Blessed in these arms to fold 
 
 My gentle Yarico. 
 Hence all care, all doubt and fear, 
 Love and joy each want shall cheer, 
 Happy night, pure delight, 
 Shall make our bosoms glow. 
 
 Patty. Let Patty say a word— 
 
 A chambermaid may sure be heard— 
 Sure men are grown absurd, 
 
 Thus taking black for white ; 
 To hug and kiss a dingy miss, 
 Will hardly suit an age like this, 
 Unless, here, some friends appear, 
 Who like this wedding night, 
 
 THE END OF INKLE AND YARiro, 
 
i