Century Readings for a Course in American Literature

that it does honour to the operator. I once intended to have insinuated that I wrote his letters too; but that was before I saw them; it won't do now; no honour there, positively. Nothing 5 looks more vulgar (reading affectedly), ordinary, and illiberal, than ugly, uneven, and ragged nails; the ends of which should be kept even and clean, not tipped with black, and cut in small 10 segments of circles.- Segments of circles! surely my lord did not consider that he wrote for the beaux. Segments of circles! what a crabbed term! Now I dare answer, that my master, with all 15 his learning, does not know that this means, according to the present mode, to let the nails grow long, and then cut them off even at the top. (Laughing without.) Ha! that's Jenny's titter. 20 I protest I despair of ever teaching that girl to laugh; she has something so execrably natural in her laugh, that I declare it absolutely discomposes my nerves. How came she into our house! 25 -(Calls.) Jenny!

JESSAMY. Yes, Mistress Jenny, make love to you; and, I doubt not, when he shall become domesticated in your kitchen, that this boor, under your auspices, will soon become un amiable petit Jonathan. JENNY. I must say, Mr. Jessamy, if he copies after me, he will be vastly monstrously polite.

JESSAMY. Stay here one moment, and I will call him.- Jonathan! - Mr. Jonathan! (Calls.) JONATHAN. (Within.) Holla! there.(Enters.) You promise to stand by me six bows you say. (Bows.) JESSAMY. Mrs. Jenny, I have the honour of presenting Mr. Jonathan, Colonel Manly's waiter, to you. I am extremely happy that I have it in my power to make two worthy people acquainted with each other's merit. JENNY. So, Mr. Jonathan, I hear you were at the play last night.

JONATHAN. At the play! why, did you think I went to the devil's drawingroom!

JENNY. The devil's drawing-room! JONATHAN. Yes; why an't cards and dice

the devil's device; and the play-house the shop where the devil hangs out the vanities of the world, upon the tenterhooks of temptation. I believe you have not heard how they were acting the old boy one night, and the wicked one came among them sure enough; and went right off in a storm, and carried one quarter of the play-house with him. Oh no, no, no! you won't catch me at a play-house, I warrant you. JENNY. Well, Mr. Jonathan, though I don't scruple your veracity, I have some reasons for believing you were there; pray, where were you about six o'clock? JONATHAN. Why, I went to see one Mr.

Morrison, the hocus pocus man; they said as how he could eat a café knife. JENNY. Well, and how did you find the place?

JONATHAN. As I was going about here and there, to and again, to find it, I saw a great crowd of folks going into a long entry, that had lantherns over the door so I asked a man, whether that was not the place where they played hocus pocus? He was a very civil kind man, though he did speak like the Hessians; he lifted up his eyes and said they play hocus pocus tricks enough. there, Got knows, mine friend.'

JENNY. Well-
JONATHAN. So I went right in, and they
showed me away clean up to the garret,
just like a meeting-house gallery. And
so I saw a power of topping folks, all
sitting round in little cabbins, just like
father's corn-cribs'; and then there
was such a squeaking with the fiddles,
and such a tarnal blaze with the lights,
my head was. near turned. At last the 10
people that sat near me set up such a
hissing-hiss-like so many mad cats:
and then they went thump, thump,
thump, just like our Peleg threshing
wheat, and stampt away, just like the 15
nation; and called out for one Mr.
Langolee, I suppose he helps acts the
tricks.

JENNY. Well, and what did you do all
this time?

JONATHAN. Gor, II liked the fun, and
so I tumpt away, and hiss'd as lustily
as the best of 'em. One sailor-looking
man that sat by me, seeing me stamp,
and knowing I was a cute fellow, be- 25
cause I could make a roaring noise,
clapt me on the shoulder and said, you
are a dd hearty cock, smite my
timbers! I told him so I was, but I
thought he need not swear so, and make 30
use of such naughty words.
JENNY. The savage! Well, and did
you see the man with his tricks?
JONATHAN. Why, I vow, as I was look-
ing out for him, they lifted up a great 35
green cloth, and let us look right into
the next neighbour's house. Have you
a good many houses in New York made
so in that 'ere way?

JENNY. Not many: but did you see the 40
family?

JONATHAN. Yes, swamp it; I see'd the family.

JENNY. Well, and how did you like
them?
JONATHAN. Why. I Vow they were
pretty much like other families; -
there was a poor, good natured, curse
of a husband, and a sad rantipole of a
wife.
50
JENNY. But did you see no other folks?
JONATHAN. Yes. There was one young-
ster, they called him Mr. Joseph: he
talked as sober and as pious as a min-
ister; but like some ministers that I 55
know, he was a fly tike in his heart for
all that: He was going to ask a young
woman to spark it with him, and — the

Lord have mercy on my soul ! — she was another man's wife. JESSAMY. The Wabash!

JENNY. And did you see any more folks? 5 JONATHAN. Why they came on as thick as mustard. For my part, I thought the house was haunted. There was a soldier fellow, who talked about his row de dow dow, and courted a young woman; but of all the cute folk I saw, I liked one little fellowJENNY. Aye! who was he? JONATHAN. Why, he had red hair, and a little round plump face like mine, only not altogether so handsome. His name was Darby:-that was his baptizing name, his other name I forgot. Oh! it Wig-Wag-Wag-all, Darby Wag-all; - pray, do you know him?I should like to take a fling with him, or a drap of cyder with a pepper-pod in it, to make it warm and comfortable. JENNY. I can't say I have that pleasure. JONATHAN. I wish you did, he is a cute

was

fellow. But there was one thing I did n't like in that Mr. Darby; and that was, he was afraid of some of them 'ere shooting irons, such as your troopers wear on training days. Now, I'm a true born Yankee American son of liberty, and I never was afraid of a gun yet in all my life.

JENNY. Well, Mr. Jonathan, you were
certainly at the play-house.

JONATHAN. I at the play-house! - Why
did n't I see the play then?
JENNY. Why, the people you saw were
players.

JONATHAN. Mercy on my soul! did I see
the wicked players? - Mayhap that 'ere
Darby that I liked so, was the old ser-
pent himself, and had his cloven foot
in his pocket. Why, I vow, now I come
to think on 't, the candles seemed to
burn blue, and I am sure where I sat
it smelt tarnally of brimstone.
JESSAMY. Well, Mr. Jonathan, from your
account, which I confess it very accurate,
you must have been at the playhouse.
JONATHAN. Why, I vow I began to smell
a rat. When I came away, I went to
the man for my money again: you want
your money, says he; yes, says I; for
what, says he; why, says I, no man
shall jocky me out of my money: I
paid my money to see sights and the
dogs a bit of a sight have I seen, unless
you call listening to people's private

business a sight. Why, says he, it is the School for Scandalization.- The School for Scandalization! Oh, ho! no wonder you New York folks are so cute at it, when you go to school to learn it: 5 and so I jogged off.

JESSAMY. My dear Jenny, my master's business drags me from you; would to heaven I knew no other servitude than to your charms.

JONATHAN. Well, but don't go; you won't leave me so.

JESSAMY. Excuse me.- Remember the cash. (Aside to him, and-Exit.) JENNY. Mr. Jonathan, won't you please 15 to sit down. Mr. Jessamy tells me you wanted to have some conversation with me. (Having brought forward two chairs, they sit.)" JONATHAN. Ma'am! JENNY. Sir!JONATHAN. Ma'am!

JENNY. Pray, how do you like the city, Sir?

JONATHAN. Ma'am!

JENNY. I say, Sir, how do you like New York?

JONATHAN. Ma'am!

JENNY. The stupid creature! but I must pass some little time with him, if it is 30 only to endeavour to learn, whether it was his master that made such an abrupt entrance into our house, and my young mistress's heart, this morning. (Aside.) As you don't seem to like to 35 talk, Mr. Jonathan, do you sing? JONATHAN. Gor, I-I am glad she asked that, for I forgot what Mr. Jessamy bid me say, and I dare as well be hanged as act what he bid me to, I'm so ashamed. (Aside.) Yes, Ma'am, I can sing I can sing Mear, Old Hundred, and Bangor.

No, no, that won't do. Now, if I was with Tabitha Wymen and Jemima Cawley, down at father Chase's, I should n't mind singing this all out before them— you would be affronted if I was to sing that, though that's a lucky thought; if you should be affronted, I have something dang'd cute, which Jessamy told me to say to you.

JENNY. Is that all! I assure you I like it of all things

JONATHAN. No, no. I can sing more, some other time, when you and I are better acquainted, I'll sing the whole of it no, no- that's a fib- I can't sing but a hundred and ninety verses: our Tabitha at home can sing it all.(Sings.)

Marblehead's a rocky place,
And Cape-Cod is sandy;
Charleston is burnt down,
Boston is the dandy.

Yankee Doodle do, etc.

I vow, my own town song has put me in such topping spirits, that I believe I'll begin to do a little, as Jessamy says we must when we go a courting (Runs and kisses her.) Burning rivers! cooling flames! red hot roses! pignuts! hasty-pudding and ambrosia ! JENNY. What means this freedom! you insulting wretch. (Strikes him.) JONATHAN. Are you affronted? JENNY. Affronted! with what looks shall I express my anger?

JONATHAN. Looks! why, as to the matter of looks, you look as cross as a witch. JENNY. Have you no feeling for the delicacy of my sex?

JONATHAN. Feeling! Gor, II feel 5
the delicacy of your sex pretty smartly
(rubbing his cheek), though, I vow, I
thought when you city ladies courted
and married, and all that, you put feel-
ing out of the question. But I want to 10
know whether you are really affronted,
or only pretend to be so? 'Cause, if
you are certainly right down affronted,
I am at the end of my tether; - Jes-
samy did n't tell me what to say to you. 15
JENNY. Pretend to be affronted!
JONATHAN. Aye, aye, if you only pre-
tend, you shall hear how I'll go to work
to make cherubim
consequences.
(Runs up to her.)
JENNY. Begone, you brute!
JONATHAN. That looks like mad; but I
won't lose my speech. My dearest
Jenny your name is Jenny, I think?
My dearest Jenny, though I have the 25
highest esteem for the sweet favours you
have just now granted me- Gor, that's
a fib though, but Jessamy says it is not
wicked to tell lies to the women.
(Aside.) I say, though I have the 30
highest esteem for the favours you have
just now granted me, yet, you will con-
sider, that as soon as the dissolvable
knot is tied, they will no longer be
favours, but only matters of duty, and 35
matters of course.

JENNY. Marry you! you audacious mon-
ster! get out of my sight, or rather let
me fly from you. (Exit hastily.)
JONATHAN. Gor! she's gone off in a 40
swinging passion, before I had time to
think of consequences. If this is the
way with your city ladies, give me the
twenty acres of rock, the bible, the cow,
and Tabitha.

ACT FIFTH

SCENE I. DIMPLE'S Lodgings.

the rattle makes you look so tarnation
glum?

JESSAMY. I was thinking, Mr. Jonathan,
what could be the reason of her carry-
ing herself so coolly to you.
JONATHAN. Coolly, do you call it? Why,
I vow, she was fire-hot angry may be
it was because I buss'd her.
JESSAMY. No, no, Mr. Jonathan; there
must be some other cause: I never yet
knew a lady angry at being kissed.
JONATHAN. Well, if it is not the young

woman's bashfulness, I vow I can't conceive why she should n't like me. JESSAMY. Maybe it is because you have not the Graces, Mr. Jonathan. JONATHAN. Grace! Why, does the young woman expect I must be converted before I court her?

JESSAMY. I mean graces of person; for instance, my lord tells us that we must cut off our nails even at top, in small segments of circles; - though you won't understand that-In the next place, you must regulate your laugh. JONATHAN. Maple-log seize it! don't I laugh natural?

JESSAMY. That's the very fault, Mr. Jonathan. Besides, you absolutely misplace it. I was told by a friend of mine that you laughed outright at the play the other night, when you ought only to have tittered.

JONATHAN. Gor! I what does one go to see fun for if they can't laugh? JESSAMY. You may laugh; - but you must laugh by rule.

JONATHAN. Swamp it-laugh by rule!

Well, I should like that tarnally. JESSAMY. Why you know, Mr. Jonathan, that to dance, a lady to play with her fan, or a gentleman with his cane, and all other natural motions, are regulated by art. My master has composed an immensely pretty gamut, by which any lady, or gentleman, with a few years' close application, may learn to laugh as gracefully as if they were born and bred to it.

50 JONATHAN. Mercy on my soul! A gamut for laughing- just like fa, la,

JESSAMY meeting JONATHAN JESSAMY. Well, Mr. Jonathan, what success with the fair? JONATHAN. Why, such a tarnal cross 55 tike you never saw! You would have counted she had lived on crab-apples and vinegar for a fortnight. But what

sol? JESSAMY. Yes. It comprises every possible display of jocularity, from an affettuoso smile to a piano titter, or full chorus fortissimo ha, ha, ha! My master employs his leisure-hours in marking out the plays, like a cathedral chant

ing-book, that the ignorant may know where to laugh; and that pit, box, and gallery may keep time together, and not have a snigger in one part of the house, a broad grin in the other, and a dd grum look in the third. How delightful to see the audience all smile together, then look on their books, then twist their mouths into an agreeable simper, then altogether shake the house with a 10 general ha, ha, ha! loud as a full chorus of Handel's, at an Abbey-commemoration. JONATHAN. Ha, ha, ha! that 's dang'd cute, I swear. JESSAMY. The gentlemen, you see, will laugh the tenor; the ladies will play the counter-tenor; the beaux will squeak the treble; and our jolly friends in the gallery a thorough bass, ho, ho, ho! JONATHAN. Well, can't you let me see that gamut?

JESSAMY. Oh! yes, Mr. Jonathan; here it is. (Takes out a book.) Oh! no, this is only a titter with its variations. 25 Ah, here it is. (Takes out another.). Now you must know, Mr. Jonathan, this is a piece written by Ben Jonson, which I have set to my master's gamut. The places where you must smile, look 30 grave, or laugh outright, are marked below the line. Now look over me.There was a certain man now you must smile.

JONATHAN. Well, read it again; I war- 35 rant I'll mind my eye.

JESSAMY. There was a certain man, who had a sad scolding wife,'- now you must laugh.

JONATHAN. Tarnation!

laughing matter, though.

That 's

no 40

JESSAMY. And she lay sick a-dying';

now you must titter.

JESSAMY. Yes; the notes say you must

And she asked her husband leave to make a will, now you must begin to look grave; and her husband said ' JONATHAN. Aye, what did her husband say? something dang'd cute, I reckon. JESSAMY. And her husband said, you have had your will all your life time, and would you have it after you are dead too?' JONATHAN. Ho, ho, ho! There the old man was even with her; he was up to the notch ha, ha, ha! JESSAMY. But, Mr. Jonathan, you must not laugh so. Why, you ought to have tittered piano, and you have laughed fortissimo. Look here; you see these marks, A. B. C. and so on; these are the references to the other part of the book. Let us turn to it, and you will see the directions how to manage the muscles. This (turns over) was note D you blundered at. You must purse the mouth into a smile, then titter, discovering the lower part of the three front upper teeth.'

JONATHAN. How! read it again. JESSAMY. There was a certain man'— very well! who had a sad scolding wife, why don't you laugh? JONATHAN. Now, that scolding wife sticks in my gizzard so pluckily, that I can't laugh for the blood and nowns of me. Let me look grave here, and I'll laugh your belly full where the old creature 's a-dying.

JESSAMY. And she asked her husband' -(Bell rings.) My master's bell! he's returned, I fear-Here, Mr. Jonathan, take this gamut; and, I make no doubt but with a few years' close application, you may be able to smile gracefully. (Excunt severally.) (1787)

(1790)

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