HANGING AND MARRIAGE;

OR, THE Dead-Man's Wedding.

A FARCE.

As it is Acted at the THEATRE-ROYAL IN Lincoln's-Inn-Fields.

Dedicatory PREFACE. To all my Friends in general.

It is a common Observation upon Authors, (Poets especially) that they stuff theirDEDICATIONS with gross Flattery, their PREFACES with Spleen and Ill-nature, and seem to threaten their Readers into Approbation. But as I have been always an out of the way Fellow, I shall be no Changeling now. All the use I shall make of thisPREFACE , is thus publickly to return my hearty Thanks to the Town for their kind Acceptance of every Trifle of mine, which I have hitherto sent abroad, acknowledging my own Imperfections, and the Goodness of my Friends, who

have taken the Wilt for the Deed, and made Merit of my Endeavours to please. And indeed this FARCE of mine pleads no other. I have attempted low Life; you will be the best Judges, whether I have hit upon it, or no; I am not so much of a Poet (so arrogant, I mean) to give you Instructions how to judge of my Performances; no, I lay my self entirely at your Mercy. If I have deserv'd Correction, be as favourable as you can. If I have succeeded in my Endeavours to please, that is all the Reward I ask. I never doubt of your Encouragement to

Your already obliged H. Carey.

Tyger-Square, March 15. 1722.

To that jolly Bacchanal Harry Carey, on his New FARCE.

Well, Harry! If there be a Man alive
Merits Success, thou dost deserve to thrive.
The Town's Diversion is thy only View,
For thou art Ever Hatching something New.
'Twere pity but this FARCE of thine should take,
For thy Good Humour and Industry sake.

All Day in Constant Hurry, half the Night
With merry Fellows, round thy dear Delight,
How canst thou find a Moment's Thought or Ease
To furnish us with Whims?--nay, Whims that please?
Besides--
Thy round unthinking Face belies thee much;
One would believe thine Extract to be Dutch.
Pardon me, HAL; these merry Lays of mine
(Blunt as thy self, familiar too as thine)
Are wrote without Ill-nature, or Design.
Go on and prosper then: If thou'rt not rich,
Labour is vain, and Fortune is a B---h.

T. Smith.

Folks that Play this FARCE.MEN. WOMEN.

Goodman Gizzard, a rich Farmer.	Mr. Bullock, Sen.
Richard Stubble, in Love with his Daughter.	Mr. Spiller.
Solomon Squeak, the Parish Clerk, Richard's Rival.	Mr. Phips.
Jerry, a Londoner.	Mr. Egleton.
Mazzard, Richard's, Companion.	Mr. Hild Bullock.
Sprangle, Richard's Companion.	Mr. Rakestraw.
A Countryman.	Mr. Morgan.
A Countryman.	Mr. Buck.
Neighbours, Mob, Parson, &c.
Mother Stubble.	Mrs. Egleton.
Betty Gizzard.	Mrs. Gulick.

[SCENE, Goodman Gizzard's.]


[Goodman Gizzard, and Solomon Squeak.]

GIZZARD.:

OD'S heartlikins, Solomon, what a
plague be'est thou afear'd o'?
Han't I forbided'n to come anear
us? Why what a duce?

Squeak.:

Ay! but, Goodman Gizzard, thee
dost'nt know what a desperationable Feler
that same Richard Stubble is; h'as vow'd to
quite a'most kill me, wheresom'dever he catches
me.

Gizzard.:

Why dos'nt get a Michelmas
For'n, and bind'n o'er to Nisi Prizes, if so be as
how you go in Dangerment o' your Life?

Squeak.:

I Dos'nt know what to do wi'n,
he's such a boisterous Feller; a runs up and
down Town staring like a mad thing, and
drives every body afor'n; he swears he'll go
for a Dragooner, and never see home again
so long as he lives.

Gizzard.:

Adod, and would he may, we
mun ha' some Quiet then. What a filthy to
do here is with a shackle-pated, hair-brain'd
Feller? I was bewitch'd, I think, ever to
let'n come anear the House.

Betty.:

O Father! There's Richard Stubble
has com'd and beat our Tummos and Peter
yonder, and swears he'll break down the
House, but he'll come at me; he'll kill me
besure!

Squeak.:

Would I were onst out, I'd never
come in again to be in fear o' my Life at this
rate always.

Gizzard.:

Ne'er fear, I'll send'n away with a
Witness.

Richard.:

Wuns! I ha' sous'd somebody besure,
and I mun souse somebody else afore I
goes; for I spy, with my Eye, a Parish Clerk,
a little nasty snivelling squeaking Toad, that
I mun douce as long as ever I can stand
over'n.

Gizzard.:

Go about thy Business, Richard,
thee had'st best, what dost come here for?

Richard.:

What's that to you, you old curmudgeonly
old Rogue; what dost glum at me
for, and borrow the Devil's Looks; dost
think I mun be scar'd, Mun?

Betty.:

Pray ye now, Richard, go about your
Business, can't ye be said Nay, without all
this Pother?

Richard.:

Why did'nt ye say me Nay, first
of all then? what made ye make me sell Seldom
Buckles out o' my Shoon to treat you at
Latham Fair for? Hay? What did ye fun me
up all along for, and tarry till such time we
were thrice ask'd i'th' Church, and all to
butter me at last, like a false-hearted Creature
as ye be?

Gizzard.:

Don't ye call Names, Richard; and
ye do, I'll fet thos'n shall douce your Chops
for ye, I promise you.

Richard.:

You mun call your Wenches then,
for 'ha laid your Men sprawling already; you
fet thos'n shall douce my Chops, why don't
ye now? Ad waunds, and y'are so fond o'
doucing, I'll give ye doucing enough.

Gizzard.:

Ay, ay, see and I don't tame you,
and by.

Richard.:

Hearkee, tarry a bit!

Squeak.:

Why, Richard, what dost mean?

Richard.:

I'll tell you.

Squeak.:

Pray ye, Mr. Stubble, let me alone.

Richard.:

Ay its Mister, is it? ods heart, and
ye make a Mister o' me now, you'll make a
Squire o' me and by; nay, a Knight, afore I
ha' done.

Betty.:

Why, Richard, If I don't wonder you
ar'nt asham'd.

Richard.:

Wuns, I'll souce you and all, and
ye preate.

Squeak.:

O Dear 'Squire Stubble!

Richard.:

No.

Squeak.:

Sir Richard.

Richard.:

No.

Squeak.:

My Lord Stubble, for the Lord's
sake!

Richard.:

Ay, cry Mercy, now, that's something
like; well what say'st a? woot ha'
Betty Gizzard now?

Squeak.:

M---t---d---w---

Richard.:

You will have her then?

Squeak.:

No---h.

Richard.:

And you promise never to come
anear House again?

Squeak.:

No, never so long as I live.

Richard.:

Nor to make no more Varses about
me? nor give out Psalms i'th' Church, to set
Folks a gawking at me?

Squeak.:

Never no more indeed.

Richard.:

Then get ye along, ye squeaking
Dog, and save your Bacon.

Squeak.:

I'll make you smart for this, Richard,
I will so; I'll fet a Warrant for you this Minute,
see and I don't!

Squeak.:

Why, Richard; what be'st a going
to do?

Richard.:

Only to toss you i'th' Mill-Pond,
nothing else; you mun go nearest way for a
Warrant and ye want one for Richard: I mean
to send ye to aud Nick by Water; you mun
get one then besure.

Betty.:

Why Sirrah, you Rogue, you won't
go to murder him, will ye?

Richard.:

Why Hussy! ye Slut! what's that
to you, ever I do, or do not? I'll toss'n in,
and you after'n, if so be I be so minded. But
howsom'd ever, I'll be more merciful to thee,
Betty; I'll dispose of thee elsewhere; there be
Meal-Sacks within; thee know'st my Meaning:
Why dost think I com'd here for
nothing mun? Ha--

Betty.:

I'll have thee hang'd, Sirrah, I will
so.

Richard.:

Then I mun drown you Jackanapes
first, and over-joy thee afterwards, and so I
mun be hang'd for something.

[Enter Gizzard and the Posse.]

Gizzard.:

Lay hold on'n, Neighbours, lay
hold on'n!

Richard.:

Ay lay hold on'n, Neighbours;
why don't ye lay hold on'n?

Gizzard.:

Mess! ne'er fear; lay hold on'n
for all his Flail, Mun.

Neigh.:

What a plague been ye afeard o';
ben't there enow of us to master'n?

Gizzard.:

Ad waunds! run at'n, strik'n down,
knock'n o'th' Pate, kill'n quite.

Richard.:

Lookee, Friends, if so be you be so
minded as to have a little more o' this same,
you mun speak afore I goes; but I do hope you
be pretty well contented wi' what ye have
gotten already.

Gizzard.:

Is he gone?

1 Neigh.:

Ay.

2 Neigh.:

No, there he is.

Gizzard.:

Where is he? Downy! and he was
here, I'd souse'n, I would so, for all he scar'd
me with his Tricks.

1 Neigh.:

But Solomon! how com'st thee to
be beat all to pieces thus'n?

Squeak.:

Why here Betty and I were sweet-hearting,
and such like; and so who should
come in huffing and swearing like a Devil,
but Richard? and so he beat me to mash; and
had'nt you com'd in as ye did, he'd a toss'd me
out o' yon same Windor i'th' Mill-Pond;
but I'll take the Law on him; I'll pick his
Bones, I'll warrant ye.

Gizzard.:

Ay, Ay, we'll lay'n fast enof, ne'er
fear. Come, Solomon, hie thee to Pothecarys,
and get thee some Gwentums, and comfortable
things, and then we'll to 'Squires, and
make Appledavit, and get a Michaelmas for'n;
we'll manage him, a Rogue, we will so.

[SCENE, Mother Stubble's.]


[Mother Stubble, Richard and Jerry.]

Mother.:

WHY, where a dickins dost run always
Richard? here's Cousin Jerry
mun go away to morrow wi' Carrier, and thee
cast'nt bide within a bit; you're always after
Betty Gizzard I think.

Richard.:

What dost tell me o' Cousin Jerry,
or Betty Gizzard either? Sflesh I mun get out
o' th' way I tell you, or there'll be enow after
me and by.

Jerry.:

I hope, Cousin, you han't brought
your self into any Premunire; you're under
no Apprehension of Danger, are you, Cousin?

Richard.:

I don't know ever I be, or be not;
I have only almost kill'd Solomon Squeak
there, I was about to so so Betty Gizzard; and I
have left awd Gizzard and half the Parish
ready masht to th' Surgeons Hands, that's
all.

Mother.:

All quotha! ay, and enough too, to
my Sorrow. Why Richard! what hast a done
Child?

Richard.:

Why don't I tell you? What
would the Woman have? Now 'tis done I
mun think how to go by't.

[[All this while he has been hunting for Pen, Ink and Paper, with which he sits down to write.]

So, now I'll go make an End of my Varses.

Mother.:

And what, woot tarry here scribbling,
till such time they fet thee away? Ah the duce
take your Scribbling, I say.

Richard.:

Let m' alone, wul ye.

Jerry.:

Pray, Madam, don't discompose your
self on my Cousin's Account, I warrant he
brings himself off.

Mother.:

What for Murderation and Ravishments,
and Salts, and Batters, and all! I
hate to hear thee talk so. Ah Cousin! if so
be we had sent this Boy up to London, when
Father did send thee, none of this had never
happen'd out. Why he would ha' caw'd me
Madam as you do, and talk'd as good Londonshire
as our Curate, long e'er now; but stead
o' that, I mun seen hang'd, mahaps, and I live
to next Presizes!

Sprangle.:

So, Richard, what be'st a devising
there?

Richard.:

What's that to you, let me alone,
wull ye?

Mazzard.:

What's matter wi' my Dame no'?

Mother.:

What need you care, Sauce-box?

Mazzard.:

What a duce been ye all wood
here? Sbleed! 'tis well we ha' swopt down
our Breakfastis, you'd bite our Heads off
fasting else, mahaps

Sprangle.:

Come, what argifies biding here,
and they be so crusty?

Richard.:

Where a duce been ye all going?
bide here a bit.

Jerry.:

Gentlemen! 'tis convenient you stay
here, my Cousin has need of your Assistance.

Mazzard.:

Gentlemen! d'ye mind how purely
he talks? why what's the Matter pray
Mr. Jeremy?

Jerry.:

Why he has been playing the Devil
at Goodman Gizzard's, and he's apprehensive
of some Danger upon that Account.

Mazzard.:

I don't care, I'll stand by thee,
Richard, and I were to be hang'd next Minute.

Sprangle.:

For my Part, I'll bide wi' Richard,
come what will come.

Jerry.:

Bravely said my Lads, that's Friendship
indeed!

Richard.:

Grim King o'th' Ghosts.

[[Mumbling to'm self.]

Tarry a bit, I have e'en done now.

[[To them.]


[[They look over him till he has done.]

So, now have done! a was despir'd besure!
a will be too cunning for 'em yer, ne'er fear.

Mazzard.:

How Richard, which way?

Richard.:

Why, a will go in this Minute, and
hang my self.

Mazzard.:

Marry, that's one Way to come
off.

Mother.:

Why Sirrah! woot go to hang thy
self in my House, thou graceless Wretch
thou! Ay it's good enof for you, Richard, for
leaving Mary up Town yonder. Poor Heart!

she loves very Ground thee go'st upon. But
as for t'other dizled out Gipsy, she has toslicated
the poor Brains o' thee, and brought
thee to Ruination, she has so.

Richard.:

What dost talk o' Mary? why, Lord,
she's no more to repair to Betty Gizzard, nor a
Water-Mill is to a Sack-Posset: But a tells
thee what Mother, a will ha' this same Betty
Gizzard for all this now.

Mazzard.:

What, after thee'st hang'd thy
self, Richard?

Richard.:

Why, dost think I'd hang my self
in good earnest, Mun?

Jerry.:

I smoke you now, Cousin: I told you
he'd bring himself off.

Richard.:

Ay, that will I, and have Betty
Gizzard i'th' Bargain. But, Cousin, you mun
manage tack a little for me; for I mun be
dead, you know; but howsom'd ever, I can
give ye Devise how to go on for all that.
Sflesh! I mun haste, and hang my self out
o'th' way, fore Constables comes, or all will
be mar'd. Mother, do thee run out amongst
Neighbours, and make a cursed bawling, as
you did e'en now, and tell Folks as how I be
hang'd; d'ye hear?

[SCENE, an Inner Room at MotherStubble's .]


[Richard, Jerry, Sprangle and Mazzard.]

Richard.:

HERE, come, mind what thee
beest about; set a Knife, woot.

[[To Mazzard, who takes a Knife out of his Pocket.]


[[Richard takes a Cord from a Box.]

So, now do thee cut this Cord, and tie half
of it athwart yon same Beam, mean whilst
I'll tie this'n about my Neck.

[[They do so.]

Sflesh! where's my Cap now?

[[Hurries about, striping himself.]

Well, Cousin Jerry, how dost lik' this same
Purjection o' mine now?

Jerry.:

Infinitely well; and I hope it will
succeed.

Richard.:

Ah downy! ne'er fear, and you
stand by me. You mun say, you cut me down,
d'ye hear? So, now I'll lay a top o' this
Table, as thof 'so be I was dead. Ye mun
keep Folks from coming anear me, whatsom'dever
ye do. And hearkee! take this same
Paper of Varses, and when Folks throngs about
and by, do thee drop 'em Jerry slily;
and so let somebody find 'em as it were accidentively.

Jerry.:

I understand you: You say I must
insist on a Discharge from Squeak particularly?

Richard.:

Ay, besure, for he may rest me
afterwards, mahaps.

[[A Noise without.]

So! here comes Mother, I hear her Tongue
over all; now for't!

Mother.:

Aw law! what shall I do! what
shall I do, &c.

Jerry.:

You must excuse me, Ladies! he is
not to be touch'd, 'till such time the Coroner's
Inquest have sate upon the Body.

1 Neigh.:

Why don't ye send for Goodman
Gizzard, hay?

2 Neigh.:

Ay, let somebody run to Goodman
Gizzard's, and fet'n away in all haste; and let
Betty know what's com'd of her Tricks.

Mazzard.:

Ah the duce had her, don't talk
on her.

Sprangle.:

Here Mazzard and I were going as
'twere to work, and so who should come in
puffing and blowing, and storming like a
mad thing, but Richard? so in he goes, and
the next News was, he h'ad hang'd his self.

1 Neigh.:

Ah poor Lad! well he did dance
main well, that's true.

Mazzard.:

He was as sprack a Lad as any
i'th' County; 'tis a great pities now he
should ha' no more Grace afore his Eyes nor
to lay reviling Hands upon's self, and so come
to a timely End.

Sprangle.:

Ay, so 'tis; but poor Lad was beside
his self all along here o' late, he minded
no manner of earthly thing i'th' varsal
World; one Freak or other always took'n
i'th' Pate. They'll bring in their Vardy not
Comple-mentis, besure.

1 Neigh.:

Dost think he'll walk, Peter?

Mazzard.:

I don't know; I shall be afear'd
to go along i'th' Dark.

Gizzard.:

Where's Richard Stubble here!--
what's all this Crowd for!--What, been ye
come to risker'n, hay?

Jerry.:

Rescue, what d'ye mean, Sir? Death
has rescu'd him out of your Hands already;
he's out of the Clutches of the Law now;
but his Blood lies at your Door, depend upon
it!

Mazzard.:

Ay, you be as guiltiful of Richard's
Death, as thof you had hang'd'n wi'
your own Hands; for, do ye see, you gav'n
Couragement to suiter your Dafter all along;
and after all, because Solomon Squeak here had
more Money nor Richard.

Mother.:

Ay, that's all! you old Rogue, for
the Money's sake, and for nothing else, you
broke off the Match, and ha' brought poor
Richard to's Grave.

Gizzard.:

Wuns! how could I help it? did
I bid'n hang his self? H' has a'most quite

kill'd Solomon Squeak, and all of us, and so
we'd gotten a Warrant to carry'n afore
'Squire; but a be sorry he's dead too.

Squeak.:

So ben't I, for he was always a Tormentation
to me; so I be glad he's gone.

Mother.:

What can't ye let'n alone now he's
dead and gone, ye old Rogue you?

Gizzard.:

O fy Son-i'-law! you should know
better things; you ought to forget to forgive
besure; for my Part, h'a should have had
the Girl, rather nor such a thing should have
happen'd out.

Mother.:

Ah! why coudn't you say so before?

Mazzard.:

Downy! here's a Paper under
Foot! Let's see, what is't?

Sprangle.:

'Tis Richard's Writing, besure!

Gizzard.:

Gi't me, I can read written hand,
you know.

Mrs. Betty,

That if so be I can't have you living, I'll have you dead.

Gizzard.:

O Law! O Law! Why I munnot
be able to bide i' my House; he'll walk
besure?--Well, but here's more!

What, now he's dead!

Jerry.:

Pray, Sir, read on.

[
Gizzard:
reads on.]
And therefore, if you married ben't to me,
Afore as in my Coffin nail'd I be,
My Goblin Ghost by Night shall be bloody uncivil,
And carry you a pick a pack to the Devil.

Mazzard.:

Why Neighbours! we mun all
quit our Hous'n, besure; we mun send for
an Oxford Scholard to lay'n, or we mun ne'er
be at rest.

1 Neigh.:

What's there any more?

Gizzard.:

Ay.

That's you!

Grim King o' th' Ghosts having us parted,
I'm yours no longer ye false-hearted.

R. Stubble.

Well! they be the curiousest Varses as ever I
did see penn'd i' my born Days; he was a
main good Scholard, besure.

Mazzard.:

Ay! that he was, he could read
ye written hand, and say Latin, and cast ye
up Rithmetick a vast way.

Gizzard.:

He was high learn'd, that's true;
but Neighbours, what mun we do i' this
Case?

Jerry.:

Sir, and Gentlemen, and Ladies! I
beg your Pardon for the Freedom I take;
but having made Poetry my Study, I presume
I may explain to you the true Sense of
this Letter, altho' the Contents may be separated
from your present Apprehensions.

Gizzard.:

You mun talk English then; for
your Londonshire Gibb'rish puzzles us more
by half nor th' Letter.

Jerry.:

Well, Sir, then in plain English, he
tells you that the Cause of his Death is her
Falshood.

Gizzard.:

Ay, like enough.

Jerry,:

Secondly, he says, that unless she
be married to his Body in due and true
Form.

Mazzard.:

Ay, in due and true Form, mark
that!

Jerry.:

And be called by his Name.

Gizzard.:

Ay, that's Richard Stubble; you
know!

Jerry.:

His Spirit will not be appeas'd, but
will carry her away alive.

Mazzard.:

Ay, just as Bateman fot away the
Mon's Wife i'th' Show.

Jerry.:

Thirdly and lastly, he consents that
she may the next Minute be married to Mr.
Squeak here.

Squeak.:

Lookee there now!

Jerry.:

And therefore I judge it fit to appease
him before Night.

All.:

Ay, afore Night, against the World.

Jerry.:

First, by Mr. Squeak's forgiving my
Cousin, and discharging the Prosecution he
had begun.

All.:

We'll tear him a pieces and he
don't.

Jerry.:

Secondly, by Mrs. Betty's Marriage
to his Body, which he expresly commands;
and, lastly, that she be married to Mr. Squeak,
after she has been call'd by the Name of
Stubble, and then the Ghost will be appeas'd.

Squeak.:

Mr. Jeremy, you have spoken main
well, indeed; we must preform the Dead's
Will, whatsom'dever we do; and now, and
you'll wi' me to 'Squires, a will discharge all
Matters and Mosities afore your Face, so I
will.

Jerry.:

Come then, we'll all separate for a
Minute or two, and leave Sprangle and Mazzard
with the Body, 'till such time we meet
again to perform the Ceremony. I take the

Freedom, Genteels! to manage this Matter,
it may be of ill Consequence else.

Gizzard.:

Troth, and you do it notably, I
promise you.

Richard.:

What, are they all gone?

Mazzard.:

Ay!

Richard.:

Mess! I be a'most dead i' good
earnest; 'twere as much as I could do for
my Life to defrain laughing; and that had
spoil'd all, you know.

Sprangle.:

Well, Jerry did it bravely.

Richard.:

So he did faith and troth.

[[A tapping without.]

Sflesh, there's somebody a knocking at the
Door!

Mazzard.:

Lie still, woot?

Mother.:

Richard! Richard! yonder's Betty
Gizzard a coming, crying and blubb'ring like a
Bull; I fancy were best to tell her all; I dare
say she won't tell.

Richard.:

What's Woman a Fool, woot ha'
me 'scover my self now, for her to make a
Jape o' me? I tell you, her Love will bide
no longer nor while this crying Fit holds.--
I mun make sure of her first, and tell her all
afterwards. Go, fet her in, woot? but don't
let her bide long.

Betty.:

Ah poor Richard! little did I think
'twould ha' com'd to this Pass!

Sprangle.:

Ay, see what your cross-grain'd
Tricks have done now!

Mazzard.:

Let young Woman alone, woot?
what argifies tanklenizing of her now? Go,
buss poor Richard; do, buss'n.

Betty.:

I cannot bear to seen, I cannot so;
I'll go seek my Fortune, and never go anear
home so long as I live!

Mother.:

Woot believe her now?

Richard.:

No, I tell you.

Mother.:

The Devil's i'th' Boy, I think!

Richard.:

Devil's i'th' Woman! why Mother!
can't ye go fun her up a bit? don't ye
hear Parson a coming?

[SCENE, a Field near MotherStubble's .]


[Enter two Country Fellows.]

1 Count.:

WHAT a dickins is going towards
at Mother Stubble's yonder?
there's a most strange Hurricumfuss, nothing
but haring and scaring all Day long a'most,
and now Parson's gone in all of a muck Sweat.

2 Count.:

Why dostn't hear the News Neighbour?

1 Count.:

Why, what News, pray ye?

2 Count.:

Why, about Richard!

1 Count.:

Ay! why he's run beside his self,
they say.

2 Count.:

Would that were all; why has
hang'd his self Man.

1 Count.:

Hang'd his self! marry forbid!
how com'd that to pass?

2 Count.:

Why, all along o' Betty Gizzard.

1 Count.:

Ay! why then my Dream's out; for
I dream'd t'other Night as how he'd choak'd
his self at Church, a trying to out-sqwaul Solomon
Squeak.

2 Count.:

But Neighbour! we are like to be
most terribly disturb'd henceforemost wi'
this same Richard now; for he'll come ye in
the Shape of a Lion, and a Bull, and such
like; and sometimes he will appear like old
Tear Tenant, our 'Squire's Steward, and that's
worst of all, you know.

1 Count.:

Ay! but has he left no dying
Speech?

2 Count.:

Now ye talk o' that, I tell you
what; has left a Paper o' Varses behind'n,
of's own devising; and he does protest, as if
Betty Gizzard be not married to'n afore Night,
he will come and set her away to awd Nick;
so there's our Curate gone to wed 'em.

1 Count.:

Say ye so! adod we'll go see't then;
I did never see a dead Man married i' my born
Days afore!--Come along, woot?

2 Count.:

Why it's all over by now; but I'll
go wi' ye howsom'dever.

[Last SCENE.]


[The flat SCENE opens, and discoversRichard , upheld by his two Friends, andBetty by his Side, a good old Curate in a riding Coat standing by, (or between) andJerry as Master of the Ceremonies, Gizzard and Squeak, Neighbours and Country Fellows; and (in short) a great many People.]

Jerry.:

WELL, Gentlemen and Ladies!
we have made Dispatch, I think;
we have taken no more time than just to
make the Marriage good: But what surprizes
me, is, that the dead Body should answer so
pat in its Turn; so that the Marriage is as
valid as if he were alive.

Domine.:

Ay, every whit as good, I gi' my
word for't.

Squeak.:

But not till Fees are paid.

Jerry.:

Then I'll clench that Article; here's
something more than your Demand; but
keep the Overplus to pay for Plaisters.

Squeak.:

Now good People the Dead's Will
is preform'd, I devite you all to go to our
Church-wardens, and see Betty Gizzard made
a Clerk's Lady.

Jerry.:

But you know she must be called
Mrs Stubble first.

Squeak.:

Why, and it must be so; Mrs. Stubble,
you mun be wed on'st more to Day.

Richard.:

What dost meddle wi' my Wife
for?

[[Discovering himself, and shakingSqueak .]


[[They all look as if they were out of their Wits.]


[[Pulling off his Halter.]

Lookee, good Folks! don't ye be afear'd, for
I promise you I be live and well as any body
here, and so Betty Stubble mun find anon. I
hopes 'tis no Defence to play Craft in an honest
way; I have only choust a miserly awd Cur,
as suiter'd my Sweet-heart, when she had
gi'n me her word to ha' me, and gotten her
to my self, when she had promis'd him, that's
all!

Squeak.:

Nay, and thee beest alive, there's
Law for Squeak, and so have at thee.

Jerry.:

Don't fear him Cousin! here's a Discharge
given before a Magistrate, to which
half this good Company are Witness.

All.:

Ay, that we be.

Jerry.:

I hope, Sir, you are not displeas'd
with your Son-in-law?

Gizzard.:

No, indeed ben't I, for he's an
honest Lad; and more nor that, he loves the
Girl, I see.

Richard.:

Why then gi's your Blessing, Father!

Gizzard.:

Adod, and so I do.--Well Betty?
what say'st a to all this?

Betty.:

I says nothing, Father; but I shall be
well cuntented I hopes.

[Enter Mother Stubble.]

Mother.:

Richard! Richard! the Fidlers are
come, the Fiddlers are come! Od's heartlikins,
we'll ha' one Dance so we will; why
'tis the Dead-man's Wedding; we mun be
merry now against the World!

Richard.:

So we will, Mother.--Come, strike
up!

Richard.:

Cousin Jerry, now we're all merry,
sing us a Song, woot?

All.:

Ay, pray, ye Mr. Jeremy, sing us a Song.

Richard.:

Naw, Cousin, I do not mean an
uproar Song; I hates your Outlandishire 'Tallian
haw haw Stuff; you were us'd to have a
power of joaking Songs, Cousin; sing us an
English Song, do, that we mun all understand.

Jerry.:

What Song will ye have?

Richard.:

O! that Song about the Steeple,
and the Polititioners, against the World.

[
Jerry:
SINGS.]

I.A Merry Land by this Light,
We laugh at our own Undoing,
And labour with all our Might
For Slavery and Ruin.
New Factions we daily raise,
New Maxims we're ever instilling,
And him that to Day we praise,
To morrow's a Rogue and a Villain.

II.The cunning Politician,
Whose Aim is to gull the People,
Begins his Cant of Sedition,
With, Folks, Have a care of the Steeple.
The Populace this alarms,
They bluster, they bounce, and they vapour;
The Nation's up in Arms,
And the Devil begins to caper.

III.The Statesmen rail at each other,
And tickle the Mob with a Story;
They make a most damnable Pother
Of National Int'rest and Glory.
Their Hearts they are bitter as Gall,
Tho' their Tongues are sweeter than Honey;
They don't care a Fart for us all,
But only to finger our Money.

IV.If my Friend be an honest Lad,
I never ask his Religion;
Distinctions make us all mad,
And ought to be had in Derision.
They christen us Tories and Whigs,
When the best of 'em both is an Evil;
But we'll be no Party Prigs,
Let such Godfathers go to the D---l.

V.Too long have they had their Ends,
In setting us one against t'other,
And sowing such Strife among Friends,
That Brother hated Brother.
But we'll for the future be wise,
Grow sociable, honest and hearty;
We'll all their Arts despise,
And laugh at the Name of a Party.

Richard.:

Well, this is a mortal good Song.

Mazzard.:

Ay, so 'tis; Mr. Jeremy, a' does
wish thee wast a Ballad-singer now, to sing
this same Song at our Delections here i'th'
Country.

Jerry.:

I thank you.

Mazzard.:

Nay, no Defence, but only because
there is like to be old Doings about a
new Parliament, now t'other is out of its
Time; so a' does think this same Song very
propropo upon that Decasion.

Richard.:

Come, Neighbours! we'll get
away into our great Barn, and I'll set a Vessel
o' rare Ale a broach, and get what Victuals

I can for ye; so no more to be said; yow
mun ha' your Fun there, we'll ha' ours a bed.

Jerry,:
Thus, as you see, rich Fools are sometimes bit,
By those that have less Money, but more Wit.

Richard,:
Hanging and Marriage past, next follows Bedding,
So you're all welcome to the Dead-man's Wedding.

The END.