THE COUNTRY GIRL: A COMEDY IN FIVE ACTS. BY DAVID GARRICK. Esq. REMARKS. THIS Comedy, originally called the Country Wife, was written by Wycherly, a witty company, of Charles the Second, and a favourite of that social and dissolute monarch. The most entertaining parts of his play, to the age for which it was written, are precisely those which the purer taste of the present would eject. Mr Gar rick revived this piece, in 1766, when Manager of Drury Lane Theatre; and his judicious alterations have ren dered it worthy the approbation of the public. Mrs. Jordan made her first appearance on the London stage in the character of Peggy; in which she displayed that native talent, grace, simplicity, and harmony, which so long rendered her an object of boadless attraction and applause. SCENE I-HARCOURT'S Lodgings. HARCOURT and BELVILLE discovered sitting. Har. Ha, ha, ha! and so you are in love, nephew; not reasonably and gallantly, as a young gentleman ought, but sighingly, miserably so; not content to be ancle-deep, you have soused over head and ears-ha, Dick? Bel. I am pretty much in that condition, indeed, uncle. [Sighs. Har. Nay, never blush at it: when I was of your age I was ashamed too; but three years at college, and half a one at Paris, methinks should have cured you of that unfashionable weaknessmodesty. .... COVENT GARDEN Mr. Barrymore Mr Menage Mr. W. Chapman. Ms. Alsop. Miss Matthews. Mrs. Gibbs. possession of what I must despair now ever to obtain-Heigho! Har. Ha, ha, ha! very foolish indeed. Bel. Don't laugh at me, uncle; I am foolish, I know; but like other fools, I deserve to be pitied. Har. Pr'ythee don't talk of pity; how can I help you? for this country girl of yours is certainly married. Bel. No, no-I wont believe it; she is not married, nor she sha'n't be, if I can help it. Har. Well said, modesty; with such a spirit you can help yourself, Dick, without my as sistance. Bel. But you must encourage and advise me too, or I shall never make any thing of it. Har. Provided the girl is not married; for 1 never encourage young men to covet their neighbours' wives. Bel. Could I have released myself from that, I Bel. My heart assures me, that she is not marhad perhaps been at this instant happy in the ried. Har. O, to be sure, your heart is much to be relied upon; but to convince you that I have a fellow-feeling of your distress, and that I am as nearly allied to you in misfortunes as in relationship, you must know Bel. What, uncle? you alarm me! Bel. Indeed! Har. Miserably in love. Bel. That's charming. were not at home, but would return directly; "And so will I too," said he, very short and surly and away he went mumbling to himself. Har. Very well, Will; I'll see him when he comes. [Exit SERVANT.] Moody call to see me !— He has something more in his head than making me a visit; 'tis to complain of you, I suppose. Bel. How can he know me? Har. We must suppose the worst, and be prepared for him; tell me all you know of this ware Har. And my mistress is just going to be mar- of his, this Peggy-Peggy what's her name? ned to another. Bel. Better and better. Har. I knew my fellow-sufferings would please you; but now prepare for the wonderful wonderof-wonders! Bel. Well! Har. My mistress is in the same house with yours. Bel. What, are you in love with Peggy too? [Rising from his chair. Har. Well said, jealousy. No, no, set your heart at rest; your Peggy is too young, and too simple for me. I must have one a little more knowing, a little better bred, just old enough to see the difference between me and a coxcomb, spirit enough to break from a brother's engagements, and choose for herself. Bel. You don't mean Alithea, who is to be married to Mr. Sparkish? Har. Can't I be in love with a lady that is going to be married to another, as well as you, Sir? Bel. But Sparkish is your friend? Har. Pr'ythee don't call him my friend; he can be nobody's friend, not even his own.-He would thrust himself into my acquaintance, would introduce me to his mistress, though I have told him again and again that I was in love with her; which, instead of ridding me of him, has made him only ten times more troublesome, and me eally in love. He should suffer for his self-sufficiency. Bel. 'Tis a conceited puppy!-And what success with the lady? Har. No great hopes; and yet if I could defer the marriage a few days, I should not despair; but honour, I am confident, is her only attachment to my rival: she can't like Sparkish; and if I can work upon his credulity, a credulity which even popery would be ashamed of, I may yet have the chance of throwing sixes upon the dice to Bel. Thrift, Thrift, uncle. Har. Ay, ay, Sir Thomas Thrift's daughter, of Hampshire; and left very young, under the guardianship of my old companion and acquaintance, Jack Moody. Bel. Your companion!-he's old enough to be your father. Har. Thank you, nephew-he has greatly the advantage of me in years, as well as wisdom. When I first launched from the university, into this ocean of London, he was the greatest rake in it; I knew him well for near two years, but all of a sudden he took a freak (a very prudent one) of retiring wholly into the country. Bel. There he gained such an ascendency over the odd disposition of his neighbour, Sir Thomas, that he left him sole guardian to his daughter; who forfeits half her fortune, if she does not marry with his consent-there's the devil, uncle. Har. And are you so young, so foolish, and so much in love, that you would take her with half her value? ha, nephew? Bel. I'll take her with any thing-with nothing. Har. What! such an unaccomplished, awkward, silly creature? he has scarce taught her to write; she has seen nobody to converse with, but the country people about 'em; so she can do nothing but dangle her arms, look gawky, turn her toes in, and talk broad Hampshire. Bel. Don't abuse her sweet simplicity; had you but heard her talk, as I have done, from the garden-wall in the country, by moon-light Har. Romeo and Juliet, I protest, ha, ha, ha! "Arise fair sun, and kill the envious-" ha, ha, ha! How often have you seen this fair Capulet? Bel. I saw her three times in the country, and spoke to her twice; I have leaped an orchard wall, like Romeo, to come at her; played the balcony scene, from an old summer-house in the garden; and if I lose her, I will find out an apothecary, and play the tomb scene too. Har. Well said, Dick!-this spirit must produce something; but has the old dragon ever caught you sighing at her? Bel. Never in the country; he saw me yesterday kissing my hand to her, from the new tavern window that looks upon the back of his house, and immediately drove her from it, and fastened up the window-shutters. Spark. [Without.] Very well, Will, I'll go up to 'em. Har. I hear Sparkish coming up; take care of what I told you; not a word of Peggy; hear his intelligence, and make use of it, without seeming to mind it. Bel. Mum, mum, uncle. Enter SPARKISH. Spark. O, my dear Harcourt, I shall die with laughing; I have such news for thee-ha, ha. ha!—What, your nephew too, and a little dump-ing ashamed to show himself; swore he was m 'sh, or so; you have been giving him a lecture love with his wife, and intended to cuckold him. apon economy. I suppose, you, who never had" Do you?" cried Moody, folding his arms, and any, can best describe the evils that arise from the scowling with his eyes thus "You must have want of it. I never mind my own affairs, not I-more wit than you used to have; besides, if you "The gods take care of Cato."-I hear, Mr. Bel- have as much as you think you have, I shall be ville, you have got a pretty snug house, with a out of your reach, and this profligate metropolis, bow-window that looks into the Park, and a back-in less than a week."-Moody would fain have door that goes out into it. Very convenient, and well imagined--no young handsome fellow should be without one-you may be always ready there, ike a spider in his web, to seize upon strayed women of quality. got rid of him, but the other held him by the sleeve, so I left 'em; rejoiced most luxuriously to see the poor devil tormented. Bel. I thought you said, just now, that he was not married; is not that a contradiction, Sir? [HARCOURT still makes signs to BELVILLE Spark. Why, it is a kind of one; but consideryour modesty, and the ignorance of the young lady, you are pretty tolerably inquisitive, methinks; ha, Harcourt! ha, ha, ha! Har. As you used to do-you vain fellow you; pr'ythee, don't teach my nephew your abandoned tricks; he is a modest young man, and you musting not spoil him. Spark. May be so; but his modesty has done some mischief at our house-my surly, jealous brother-in-law saw that modest young gentleman casting a wishful eye at his forbidden fruit, from the new tavern window. Bel. You mistake the person, Mr. Sparkish; I don't know what young lady you mean. Har. Explain yourself, Sparkish, you must mistake; Dick has never seen the girl. Spark. I don't say he has; only tell you what Moody says. Besides, he went to the tavern himself, and inquired of the waiter who dined in the back room, No. 4? and they told him it was Mr. Belville, your nephew; that's all I know of the matter, or desire to know of it, faith. Har. He kissed his hand, indeed, to your lady, Alithea, and is more in love with her than you are, and very near as much as I am; so look about you, such a youth may be dangerous. Har. Pooh, pooh! don't talk to that boy, tell me all you know. Spark. You must know, my booby of a bro ther-in-law hath brought up this ward of his (a good fortune let me tell you,) as he coops up and fattens his chickens, for his own eating; he is plaguy jealous of her, and was very sorry that he could not marry her in the country, without coming up to town; which he could not do on account of some writings or other; so what does my gentleman? he persuades the poor silly girl, by breaking a sixpence, or some nonsense or another, that they are to all intents married in heaven; but that the laws require the signing of articles and the church service to complete their union: so he has made her call him husband, and bud, which she constantly does; and he calls her wife, and gives out she is married, that she may Spark. The more danger the more honour: I not look after younger fellows, nor younger feldefy you both-win her and wear her if you lows after her, egad; ha, ha, ha! and all wont do can-Dolus an virtus in love as well as in war- Bel. Thank you, Sir. What heavenly news, though you must be expeditious, faith; for, I be- uncle! lieve, if I don't change my mind, I shall marry And so then you make but one trouble of it, and Har. What an idiot you are, nephew! [Apart] her to-morrow, or the day after.-Have you no honest clergyman, Harcourt, no fellow-collegian are both to be tacked together the same day? to recommend me, to do the business? Spark. No, no, he can't be married this week Har. Nothing ever, sure, was so lucky. [Aside.]he damns the lawyers for keeping him in townWhy, faith, I have, Sparkish; my brother, a twin-besides, I am out of favour; and he is continually brother, Ned Harcourt, will be in town to-day, snarling at me, and abusing me for not being jeaand proud to attend your commands. I am a lous. [Knocking at the door.] There he is-1 very generous rival, you see, to lend you my bro-must not be seen with you, for he'll suspect somether to marry the woman I love! Spark. And so am I too, to let your brother come so near us--but Ned shall be the man; poor Alithea grows impatient; I can't put off the evil day any longer. I fancy the brute, her brother, has a mind to marry his country idiot at the same time. Bel. How, country idiot, Sir? Har. Hold your tongue. [Apart to BELVILLE.] Bel. No, no, he is not married. [Aside thing; I'll wait for you, and make a visit to my wife that is to be, and perhaps we shall show young modesty here a sight of Peggy too. Re-enter a SERVANT. Serv. Sir, here's the strange odd sort of a gen tleman come again, and I have shown him into the fore-parlour. Spark. That must be Moody! Well said, Will; an odd sort of a strange gentleman, indeed; we'll step into the next room till he comes into this, and then you may have him all to yourself-much good may he do you. [Going] Re member that he is married, or he'll suspect me of. betraying him. [Elbowing BELVILLE. Spark. Not he-I have the finest story to tell you-by the by, he intends calling upon you, for [Exeunt SPARKISH and BELVILLE he asked me where you lived, to complain of mo- Har. Show him up, Will. [Erit SERVANT.] desty there. He picked up an old raking ac- Now must I prepare myself to see a very strange, quaintance of his as we came along together, though a very natural metamorphosis; a once highWill Frankly, who saw him with his girl, skulk-spirited, handsome, well-dressed, raking prodigal ing and muffled up, at the play last night; he of the town, sunk into a surly, suspicious, econoplagued him much about matrimony, and his be- mical, country sloven. Enter MOODY. Moo. Mr. Harcourt, your humble servant: have you forgot me ? Har. What, my old friend Jack Moody! by thy long absence from the town, the grumness of thy countenance, and the slovenliness of thy habit, I should give thee joy-you are certainly married. Moo. My long stay in the country will excuse my dress, and I have a suit at law that brings me up to town, and puts me out of humour; besides, I must give Sparkish ten thousand pounds tomorrow to take my sister off my hands. Har. Your sister is very much obliged to you: being so much older than you, you have taken upon you the authority of a father, and have engaged her to a coxcomb. Moo. I have, and to oblige her: nothing but coxcombs or debauchees are the favourites now-adays; and a coxcomb is rather the more innocent animal of the two. Har. She has sense and taste, and can't like him; so you must answer for the consequences. Moo. When she is out of my hands, her husband must look to consequences. He's a fashionable fool, and will cut his horns kindly. Har. And what is to secure your worship from consequences?—I did not expect marriage from such a rake one that knew the town so well; fy, fy, Jack. Moo. I'll tell you my security-I have married no London wife. Har. That's all one; that grave circumspection in marrying a country wife, is like refusing a deceitful, pampered, Smithfield jade, to go and be cheated by a friend in the country. Moo. I wish the devil had both him and his simile. Har. Well, never grumble about it, what 's done can't be undone. Is your wife handsome and young? Moo. She has little beauty but her youth, nothing to brag of but her health, and no attraction but her modesty--wholesome, homely, and housewifely; that's all. Har. You talk as like a grazier as you look, Jack. Why did you not bring her to town before, to be taught something? Moo. Which something I might repent as long as I live. Har. But pr'ythee, why wouldst thou marry her, if she be ugly, ill-bred, and silly? she must be rich then? Har. My nephew!-poor sheepish lad, he runs away from every woman he sees; he saw your sister Alithea at the opera, and was much smitten with her; he always toasts her, and hates the very name of Sparkish. I'll bring him to your house, and you shall see what a formidable Tarquin he is. Moo. I have no curiosity, so give yourself no trouble. You have heard of a wolf in sheep's clothing; and I have seen your innocent nephew kissing his hands at my windows. Har. At your sister, I suppose; not at her, unless he was tipsy. How can you, Jack, be so outrageously suspicious? Sparkish has promised to introduce him to his mistress. Moo. Sparkish is a fool, and may be what I'll take care not to be-I confess my visit to you, Mr. Harcourt, was partly for old acquaintance sake, but chiefly to desire your nephew to confine his gallantries to the tavern, and not send 'em in looks, signs, or tokens, on the other side of the way. I keep no brothel; so pray tell your ne[Going. phew. Har. Nay, pr'ythee, Jack, leave me in better humour. Well, I'll tell him; ha, ha, ha! Poor Dick, how he'll stare. This will give him a reputation, and the girls wont laugh at him any longer. Shall we dine together at the tavern, and send for my nephew to chide him for his gallantry? Ha, ha, ha! we shall have fine sport. Moo. I am not to be laughed out of my senses, Mr. Harcourt.-I was once a modest young gentleman myself; and I never have been half so mischievous before or since, as I was in that state of innocence.-And, so, old friend, make no ceremony with me; I have much business, and you have much pleasure, and therefore as I hate forms, I will excuse your returning my visit, or sending your nephew to satisfy me of his modesty and so your servant. [Exit. Har. Ha, ha, ha! poor Jack! what a life of suspicion does he lead! I pity the poor fellow, though he ought and will suffer for his follyFolly!-'tis treason, murder, sacrilege! When persons of a certain age will indulge their false, ungenerous appetites, at the expense of a young creature's happiness, dame Nature will revenge herself upon them, for thwarting her most heavenly will and pleasure. [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I-A Chamber in MOODY's House. Peg. Pray, sister, where are the best fields and woods to walk in, in London? Ali. A pretty question! why, sister, Vauxhall, Kensington Gardens, and St. James' Park, are the most frequented. Moo. As rich as if she had the wealth of the mogul. She'll not ruin her husband, like a London baggage, with a million of vices she never heard of: then, because she 's ugly, she's the likelier to be my own; and being ill-bred, she'll hate conversation; and since silly and innocent, will not know the difference between me and you; Peg. Pray, sister, tell me why my bud looks so that is, between a man of thirty, and one of forty.grum here in town, and keeps me up so close, and Har. Fifty, to my knowledge. [Moony turns wont let me go a walking, nor let me wear my and grumbles.]-But see how you and I dif- best gown yesterday? 'fer, Jack-wit to me is more necessary than beauty; I think no young woman ugly that has it, and no handsome woman agreeable without it. Moo. 'Tis my maxim-He's a fool that marries; but he's a greater that does not marry a fool.- -I know the town, Mr. Harcourt; and my wife shall be virtuous in spite of you or your nephew. Ali. O, he 's jealous, sister! Ali. He's afraid you should love another man Peg. How should he be afraid of my loving another man, when he will not let me see any but himself? Ali. Did he not carry you yesterday to a play 1 would not let me come near the gentry, who sat under us, so that I could see 'em. He told me none but naughty women sat there; but I would have ventured for all that. Ali. But how did you like the play? Peg. Indeed I was weary of the play; but I liked hugeously the actors; they are the goodliest, properest men, sister. Ali. O, but you must not like the actors, sister. Peg. Ay, how should I help it, sister? pray, sister, when my guardian comes in, will you ask leave for me to go a walking? Peg. Nay, if to enjoy all these things be a town life, London is not so bad a place, dear. Moo. How! if you love me, you must hate London. Peg. Bud, bud, do the town women love the Moo. Ay, I warrant you. Ali. A walking! ha, ha, ha! Lord, a country gentlewoman's pleasure is the drudgery of a foot-player-men too? post; and she requires as much airing as her husband's horses. [Aside.] But here comes my brother; I'll ask him, though I'm sure he'll not grant it. Enter MOODY. Peg. Ay, I warrant you. Moo. Why, you do not, I hope? Peg. No, no, bud; but why have we no player. men in the country? Moo. Ha! Mrs. Minx, ask me no more to go to a play. Peg. O my dear, dear bud, welcome home; why dost thou look so fropish? who has nanger'ding; thee? Moo. You're a fool. [PEGGY goes aside and cries. Ali. Faith, and so she is, for crying for no fault; poor tender creature! Moo. What, you would have her as impudent as yourself; as arrant a girl-flirt, a gadder, magpie; and, to say all, a mere notorious town woman! Ali. Brother, you are my only censurer: and the honour of your family will sooner suffer in your wife that is to be, than in me, though I take the innocent liberty of the town! Moo. Hark you, mistress! do not talk so before my wife: the innocent liberty of the town! Peg. Nay, why, love? I did not care for gobut when you forbid me, you make me as it were desire it. Pray, let me go to a play, dear? Moo. Hold your peace; I wont. Peg. Why, love? Moo. Why, I'll tell you. Peg. Pray why, dear? Moo. First, you like the actors; and the galalants may like you. Ali. Pray, what ill people frequent my lodg ings? I keep no company with any woman of scandalous reputation. Moo. No, you keep the men of scandalous reputation company. Ali. Would you not have me civil? answer 'em at public places? walk with 'em when they join me in the Park, Kensington Gardens, or Vauxhall ? Moo. Hold, hold; do not teach my wife where the men are to be found; I believe she's the worse for your town documents already. I bid you keep her in ignorance, as I do. Peg. Indeed, be not angry with her, bud, she will tell me nothing of the town, though I ask her a thousand times a day. Moo. Then you are very inquisitive to know, I find. Peg. What, a homely country girl? no, hud, nobody will like me. Moo. I tell you yes, they may. Peg. No, no, you jest-I wont believe you; I will go. Moo. I tell you then, that one of the most raking fellows in town, who saw you there, told me he was in love with you. Peg. Indeed! who, who, pray who was't? Moo. I've gone too far, and slipt before I was aware. How overjoyed she is? [Aride. Peg. Was it any Hampshire gallant? any of our neighbours ?-'Promise you I'am beholden te him. Moo. I promise you, you lie; for he would but ruin you, as he has done hundreds. Peg. Ay, but if he loves me, why should he ruin me? answer me to that. Methinks he should not; I would do him no harm. Ali. Ha, ha, ha! Moo. 'Tis very well; but I'll keep him from doing you any harm, or me either. But here comes company; get you in, get you in. Peg. But pray, husband, is he a pretty gentleman that loves me? Moo. In baggage, in. [Thrusts her in end Peg. Not I, indeed, dear; I hate London: shuts the door.] what, all the libertines of the our place-house in the country is worth a thou-town brought to my lodging by this easy corsand of't; would I were there again! Moo. So you shall, I warrant. But were you not talking of plays and players when I came in? you are her encourager in such discourses. [TO ALITHEA. Peg. No, indeed, dear: she chid me just now for liking the player-men. Moo. Nay, if she is so innocent as to own to me her liking them, there is no harm in't. [Aside.] Come, my poor rogue, but thou likest none better than me? Peg. Yes, indeed, but I do; the player-men are finer folks. Moo. But you love none better than me? comb! 'sdeath, I'll not suffer it. Enter SPARKISH, HARCOURT. and BELVILLE. Spark. Here, Belville, do you approve my choice? Dear little rogue, I told you I'd bring you acquainted with all my friends, the wits. [To ALITHEL Moo. Ay, they shall know her as well as your self will, I warrant you. [Aside. Spark. This is one of those, my pretty rogue, that are to dance at your wedding to-morrow and one you must make welcome; for he 's modest. [BELVILLE salutes ALITHEA.] Harcourt makes |