SIR Mr. Hodgkinson will be here directly.

Hodgkinson is a good study is not he?

Nobody quicker sir—

Glad of it—have a few lines here to open the theatre, will immortalize him—

Sir he is prepared with an address

Poo—mere make shift—because nothing better was offered him—

I am told it is a good thing sir—written by a gentleman of approved taste—

Mum for that—not one new idea—lay my exist­ence of it—these things are out of your Sphere Mr. Promp­ter—let him once see mine—

Here he comes sir.

Mr. Prompter—come—bustle—we have not a moment to spare—who is that? (aside)

A gentleman has brought you some lines to open the theatre with

Damn his lines.

No—let the audience do that.

Sir—your most obedient—Mr. Hodgkinson I presume—

At your service sir.

Sir— (takes his hand) I congratulate you on the opening this elegant theatre—I am safely arrived, and know­ing the barrenness of literary talent in this country—

Sir you mistake—

Oh—pardon me sir—policy may dictate excuses—but mum for that—you know better

A modest fellow this (aside)

My dear fellow—here—lock yourself up ten minutes and study there—all pith—none of your coarse frothy stuff—whipt syllabub every syllable:

Sir, I've—

Come, come—no excuses—they'll immortalize you—I know they'll succeed—hark'ye; read them to an old woman of sixty—Moliere's plan you know—an old deaf nurse where I board—liked them vastly—

Sir I—( eagerly)

No apologies between friends—expensive establish­ment this—want good things—dull stuff wont do—increase of company—lights expensive—salaries raised—people's expectations raised—hopes of emolument raised.

Yes sir—and if we stand talking here—the gods will be upon us before we are ready: and then there will be the devil of a dust raised—about our ears.

Mr. Hodgkinson, will you be kind enough to direct me to my dressing room—for tho' I've been in it two or three times, I cannot find my way to it.

Go up the staircase my dear round that cor­ner—on the second story turn to the left, and you will find a flight of stairs; go down them, and yours is the fourth door on the right hand: but be careful which staircase you go down, for if you take the wrong, you will lose yourself among the unfinished apartments—the prompter will conduct you.

Here sir—another jeu d'esprit—a serious—

Sir, I have no leisure now—my dear do get rid of this poet for me (turns away to give orders to the servants who are busy with the scenes.)

I will (she turns to Jingle) Sir, you will excuse me—but—

A serious prologue Madam; written in quick measure.

A serious prologue in quick measure! very singular that.

Yes Madam and a comic epilogue in blank verse

And a comic epilogue in blank verse! more singular still.

You don't see the propriety of that now

I do not I confess.

I'm astonished—no, I beg pardon—I'm not astonished: these are errors that a refined taste only can correct—now Madam—should not a serious address he levelled at the passions!—

Certainly

And since the passions are impetuous the attacks should be violent—and how can that be accomplished, but by a rapidity of utterance,—and what but quick measure can trip over the tongue.

Ingenious at least sir, if not convincing.

Why are you ladies so persuasive? why have you such superior hold over the passions? my Dear Madam merely from your volubility.

From our volubility only sir.

Solely Madam—did you ever know a woman capable of sitting three minutes comfortably without talking

I have known many such sir

Must have been deaf or dumb then

You are very polite sir

Facts are stubborn things Madam—Experientia docet; nature fore saw the evil and out of compassion to the ladies, as she gave them slippery tongues she left them with smooth chins—

I don't understand you sir

Can't you tell Madam why nature refused to give the ladies beards

Beards Sir!

I'll tell you Madam—because they can't hold their tongues long enough to be shaved

Upon my word sir—

No general rule tho' without an exception—knew two ladies myself that had beards—two old maids, one sixty five, the other seventy—easily accounted for; time who you know is your greatest enemy, had robbed them of their teeth, and to prevent discovery they imposed silence on their tongues; they shut them up in perpetual confinement—settled a contract between the nose and chin, to make the lips do the regular duty of strict jailors—as soon as na­ture perceived the danger of talking was over, she became bountiful, and the harvest on their chins made ample com­pensation for the daurage the mouth had sustained in the loss of its furniture.

If your doctrine is true sir, nature was very spiteful in furnishing your chin; for if you are always as talkative as at present your wind pipe must have been in frequent danger.

That's right Madam,—true woman—retort your foibles upon us—here, have you been having all the talk to yourself for this half hour

I! sir having all the—

There again—wont let me put in a word

Sir—

No fear of your having a beard Madam— (he sees the manager turns short round and follows him) now sir only give me your patient hearing and I will read one of the principal scenes either of a Tragedy, Comedy or Farce—I have them all about me— (takes them out of his pocket pulls out his spectacles and puts them on.)

Sir, it is impossible—you see how I am engag'd—if you will leave them at my house, I will read them the first leisure moment.

Leave them at your house! (stares at him)

Yes in Fair Street.

You wrote the launch, Sir didn't you?

I did!

And you wrote the Man of Fortitude.

Yes.

And I suppose, after you have detained my plays a mouth or two, you would be writing again?

Suppose I should?

Much obliged to you—can't leave my plays with any body—fine thoughts are worth stealing—

Sir, do you suspect!

Know you would— (pulls off his spectacles)

Sir— (in a passion)

Author can't help it—do it myself—steal half my best things—

I dont doubt it— (turns away in a pet)

(Turning short to Mrs. Hodg.) pick up a good thought Madam—Strip it of the author's language—dress it up in my own—wiredraw it a little for the advantage of weak judgments—and boldly claim the merit of originality.

But such thefts are easily detected, sir

Aye by one in a thousand—Madam thinking is no part of modern authorship—the ancients have left us thoughts enough—all we have to do is to hammer them well, and lay them on like modern plate, as thin as possible on any course materials.

Your ingenuity is equal to your politeness.

Took all my pieces to a man who has the general character of a connoisseur, but there is no taste here Madam, would you believe it? he laught at the most pathetic parts of my Tragedy; yawn'd and made wry faces during the great­er part of the Comedy, and absolutely went to sleep all the Farce—there is want of taste for you Madam—

But sir you had better call on Mr. Hodg­kinson To-morrow? I cannot stay any longer.

Take your advice Madam—but heark ye—a word [Page 8] in your ear—he'll be damn'd mad—that he miss'd my lines—the finest you ever read—only give me five minutes—

Impossible sir—

Adieu—call and read them to you another time—but hark'ye shan't trust my pieces out of my own hands—Sir Fretful Plagiary for that, you understand me.

Writes himself!

Well, have you got rid of him?

With some difficulty.

No matter how—so he's gone—Mr. Hughes desire the stage door keeper to admit no stranger whatever.

I want to try my voice, let us go thro' a short scene.

It must be a short one then.

I'll try an invocation to see whether the un­der tones are distinct.

Do—and let it be extempore

Restore him—merciful Gods (looks to the general box)

Ha! ha! ha!—

(Stops short) what do you laugh at?

My dear you forget where you are, you are not addressing the gods—that is the general box, the gods are yonder removed at awful distance.

True—I beg their godships pardon, well I'll suppose them there and apologize—pardon high and mighty gods, nor let your thun'dring vengeance fall upon an humble suppliant for so venial an offence: for tho' my er­ring eye mistook the awful seat of your abode, my aspiring heart, on adoration's wings, was soaring to approach you gratefully to thank you for every favour past, and humbly to implore your future approbation—

Very well my dear, very well

If I was to address the gods, for one quar­ter [Page 9] of an hour, my neck would be so set, that I should not have the use of it again for a month.

Come then I'll tell you how you may try your voice without breaking your neck.

How?

Why by singing a song.

With all my heart—

and now I'll go and see if I can find my dressing room.

Take care you don't mistake the slairs.

Sir, I tell you Mr. Hodgkinson—cannot be spo­ken with.

Boderation honey (pushes on with his wife) kape your pratty looking daddles off that lady joy▪ or by my shoul I'll—Oh your sarvant sir—you are not Mr. Hodg­kinson the manager to be sure now are you?

I am—but—

I did not guess that, do you see now—

And pray sir, who are you?

Oh!—to be sure I'm not little Flanagan O'Fla­harty—just landed, comfortably seaked and dry as a salt fish after a pleasant journey from dear Tipperary.

And the lady?

Oh to be sure, she is not my wife honey.

And your business?

Business joy!—to be sure you live in America and can't guess now!

Sir, it is a busy time—and I will thank you to tell your business as briefly as possible?

As to our business, look you joy a man of your disarnment can't see that with both your eyes shut, why to be sure our business is not playing my dear.

you are actors then?

You have hit it honey.

To deal plainly with you.

Oh don't be after complimenting; as to a choice of parts do ye see—we're not too delicate on that head! for my own part, look you—Richard—Macbeth—Lare—Hamlet Benedick—and a few other such characters would do to start with.

Sir many of those characters I fill myself.

Why aye, as you say—a New-York audience may have put up with a little makeshift—but let them once see me, my dare—and to be sure they won't find out the differ­ence—

Oh no doubt.

And then to shew you I'm not unrasonable—you may set me down now—for Falstaff—Wapid—Don Falix—Romeo and Marplot—for such second rate characters to be sure now little O'Flaharty would not astonish them—

But I tell you sir

Oh now—dont be apologising—my dare—I would not refuse to play such paltry characters as paping Tom—Lingo or even Shelty—joy—now to be sure you won't call that condacension—

Damn it sir, I tell you—

But my dare—don't be for putting me into any of your characters that have nothing to recommend them but the brogue—I never could put the damn'd brogue upon my tongue in my life.

Sir.

Oh none of your palaver—little O' Flaharty, is not to be humbug'd, my dare—you may give your brogues to those who can't speak pure English—You may play them yourself joy; I'm for your jonteel line honey.

And as for me, Sir.

For God's sake, Madam!

You may clap me down for Juliet—Lady Mac­beth—Beatrice—Lady Townley—Desdemona—Lady Racket—Alicia—and a few of that sort of things.

Madam, once for all, I must tell you—our company is full, and as for ladies, there are more already than I can possibly find parts to satisfy.

Now can't you be easy.

Sir—Madam.

Oh, don't be apologizing now.

Damnation—here John—shew this Gentle­man and Lady the door.

Nay Sir—I have no time.

Suppose I give you a fane in Macbeth.

I will not be interrupted Sir—and if you won't leave me, I must leave you. (Going.)

How damn'd fond you are of talking my dare; but since you will have all the palaver to yourself, I'll call on you again to-morrow. Your sarvant.

Who the devil would be a manager.

One word, honey.

Damnation.

You could not lend me five dollars for a few days?

I have no money to lend, Sir.

I'll pay you out of the profits of my benefit, honey.

Sir I desire you'll leave me.

What Sir.—Would you be after putting an af­front upon a jontleman?

Leave me Sir.

Oh, oh, to be sure, little O'Flaharty wont shew you what good breeding is—if you won't engage me, my dear, you shall sight me.

Any thing to get rid of you—any thing ano­ther time.

To be sure, I wont show you what a coward is.

Pray, Mr. Hodgkinson, why am I cant­ed up into a three pair of stairs dressing room?

My dear Madam, I have done all for the best, but you see it is impossible to please every body.

Sir, if I am to dance up and down three pair of stairs, at every trifling change of dress where am I to find breath to go thro' my part?

Madam you must be satisfied for to night, at least, this is no time to make alterations.

As to that, Sir, I am as soon satisfied as ano­ther; but I don't like partialities.

During this scene, Mr. Prigmore is measuring the stage, by walking across it.

Well Prig—What are you at now?

Practising the tread of the stage. I expect some of us, forgetting where we are, shall think we have made our exit, before we have half cross'd it; for instance, now in one of my characters—I am standing on this side; four strides, and three squints at the gallery, at the other theatre, carry me completely off—egad, you see, here, it would leave me right in the center.

Well, that would be no bad joke; for you might stand and make pretty faces at the gallery: They love to see your face, Prig.

Make faces at the gallery, that's a good joke—why damme, where would be the use of that: at the other house, indeed, a well made up face stood a chance to be noticed: but here, damme, we shall all look like wax-dolls, thro' the diminishing end of a telescope.

Sir: Mr. Hogg says, if the chimney in his dressing-room is not altered, he shall be smoke dried in a month like a side of bacon.

There's a pretty piece of gammon for you.

And here's the bill of the coals just laid in, Mr. Cant's compliments and you must send him the money.

Why they an't all deliver'd are they?

The last load came in this afternoon, Sir.

He is in a confounded hurry, tell him to call on Mr. Dunlap.

He says he can't wait, he don't like you player folks—he won't have dealing with the unrighteous; he has committed a great sin in selling coals for such an ungodly use, and he fears he shall be read out of the conventicle for it—he therefore wants the money directly, that he may close the affair, and pacify his conscience.

Damn his conscience—tell him he shall wait our convenience for his impudence.

Mr. Hodgkinson, do you know that it is within half an hour of the time to open the doors.

Yes—and every body is in a bustle and no­body ready.

Mrs. Johnson above behind the scenes, calls loud, as in a fright.

Mr. Johnson! Mr. Johnson!

Hark!—was not that Mrs. Johnson's voice?

It sounded like it—where can she be?

Mr. Johnson! (calling again.)

My God, is that you—where are you?

Here.

Here! where?

I don't know—I have lost myself—

Lost yourself—bless my soul!

Ha! ha! ha!—there she is, in the upper carpenter's gallery.

How the plague could she get there.

If the carpenters don't alter those bells I shall never be able to give the thunder and lightning proper warning.

Then Sir, why did not you look after those things in time.

Where am I to put all these properties, Sir?

Why in the property room to be sure.

The property room is full of carpenter's lum­ber, Sir.

Well, well, don't plague me about it just now, put them any where for the present.

All is in confusion above, Sir. the sky and the sea have run foul of each other—the garden scene has got entangled over the clouds! and trying to get them loose the glass in the green-house has cut off the horns of the new moon, and scratched the clouds so that they look like flying dumplings.

Why what the devil has got into the people—where are the painters and machinists that they don't look better after things?

They complain that so many people go a­bove, they are perpetually hindered, and if a stop is not put to it, every thing will be spoil'd—The black wench that at­tends the three pair of stairs dressing room, has been walk­ing over the new clouds and left all the marks of her feet upon them, she took herself for Juno I suppose.

I'll make her find out she is more like Belze­bub.

The clouds not being dry down she slipt and measur'd her whole length—smeared the seven stars and swept away half the full moon with her petticoats; in scrambling to get up she scratched the new Comet so unmercifully that it looks like a worn out traveller just arrived off a 500 years journey—talk of Juno—Juno never did so much mis­chief in the heavens with all her spite as that wench has done by accident.

Why don't they kick every body down stairs that has no business there?

Why sir, there was Miss Harding and little Sam Stockwell when I came down, making a sleigh of Juno's celestial Car, which Cicery has just finish'd painting.

What the devil's the matter now?

The Carpenters have loosened the cords and let us down sir.

Ha! ha! ha!

Thy serv'd you right—you had no business there, fasten the cords Carpenters, leave them where they are till I liberate them—I'll teach them to go a sleighing in the clouds.

Hallo—Jack.

What do you want.

Pull the rope belonging to that tackle between the first and second entrance—pull it hard and make haste, some [Page 16] of the gentlemen are waiting for the trunk fastened to the end of it.

I'll trundle it up to you in a jiffy—

What the devil are you at now?

The thick headed booby has got hold of the bell rope instead of the tackle rope.

Do my dear fellow, go and stop his noise.

Well Jack what's the news with you?

I've been looking after those things and no­seems to be right,

Right—why damn me nothing can be right here, every body seems to be doing every thing but what they ought to do—the Theatre is like the Tower of Babel, there's nothing but confusion of tongues in it.

As the porter was bringing St. Pauls Church upon his shoulder, the clumsy dog ran it thro' an Apotheca­ries window and broke a number of show glasses—there sir St. Paul lies in the shop drenched in physic, and the apothe­cary swears he will keep St. Paul as a pledge; till you pay the damage.

I'll forfeit the careless rascal for it.

And then here's the rain, is so dry it rattles no louder than a fall of snow—and the lightning is so damp it wont flash, and the thunder is out of order, it makes no more noise than a gentle zephyr, so I sent Tom for the old thun­der from the other house, his foot slipt, the lightning got scattered about and is so wet that you might as well try to flash with a snow-ball, the thunder-balls roll'd down a cellar kitchen overset a black woman's child and tumbled into the teawater cask, her husband swore the owner of the thunder should pay for the water, for his wife's tongue was too turbulent already, and he'd be dam'd before she should drink thunder water; upon this his wife snapt her fingers at [Page 17] him, dipt a quart mug into it and drank it off, threw a second into her husband's face—cursed him for a sneaking blockhead, kick'd one of the thunder balls against his shins, and threw a handful of lightning in his eyes.

A great scream is heard behind.

What next?—

What's in the wind now.

One of the ladies, I won't mention names, dressing her hair, her wig I mean, laid it down nicely fi­nished on a chair; who should sneak in but Chance, Mr. Cooper's dog, and the mischievous cur taking a fancy to it, walk'd off with it; the lady scream'd, Chance took to his heels, and the dressers are now in full chace after him to re­cover the stolen property.

The springs of that trap, the man says, are so weak, that the first ghost that ascends, will stand a chance to break his neck.

My dear fellow, that can't be, we'll call the man, and examine it—here John, tell the carpenters to open that trap door.

Mr. Hodgkinson.

What now, the theatre's haunted, I believe—above, below, we are attacked in every direction.

It is Mrs. Tyler's ghost, I believe, by the voice.

It comes from below sure enough what can she be doing there?

Mr. Hodgkinson, for God's sake, send somebody to get me out.

Get you out Madam! how in the name of wonder got you in.

Coming from my dressing room, I missed my way I suppose, for instead of getting on the stage, I have found my way under it, you see.

Prompter, ring the bell for the trap. (Aside.) The bell rings and the trap comes up with her upon it. There Tyler, do you think it will bear a ghost now?

All my doubts have vanish'd.

The doors are opening, Sir.

Down with the curtain then.

Aye—or like Sampson, the Philistines will be upon us.

Every one to his dressing room, I'll just wel­come our old friends in our new house, and then follow you.