Читать книгу The Busy Body; A Comedy, in Five Acts - Susanna Centlivre - Страница 3

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SUSANNA CENTLIVRE

Quem tulit ad scenam ventoso Gloria curru, Exanimat lentus Spectator, sedulus inflat. Sic Leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum Subruit aut reficit——

Horat. Epist. Lib. II. Ep. 1.

PROLOGUE.

Table of Contents

By the Author of Tunbridge-Walks.

Tho' modern Prophets were expos'd of late, The Author cou'd not prophesy his Fate: If with such Scenes an Audience had been fir'd, The Poet must have really been inspir'd. But these, alas! are melancholy Days For modern Prophets, and for modern Plays. Yet since Prophetic Lies please Fools of Fashion, And Women are so fond of Agitation; To Men of Sense I'll prophesy anew, And tell you wondrous Things that will prove true: Undaunted Colonels will to Camps repair, Assur'd there'll be no Skirmishes this Year; On our own Terms will flow the wish'd-for Peace, All Wars, except 'twixt Man and Wife shall cease. The grand Monarch may wish his Son a Throne, But hardly will advance to lose his own. This Season most Things bear a smiling Face;
But Play'rs in Summer have a dismal Case,	}
Since your Appearance only is our Act of Grace.
Court Ladies will to Country Seats be gone,
My Lord can't all the Year live great in Town; Where, wanting Opera's, Basset, and a Play, They'll sigh, and stitch a Gown to pass the Time away. Gay City-Wives at Tunbridge will appear, Whose Husbands long have labour'd for an Heir; Where many a Courtier may their Wants relieve; But by the Waters only they conceive. The Fleet-street Sempstress—Toast of Temple Sparks, That runs spruce Neckcloths for Attorneys Clerks; At Cupid's Gardens will her Hours regale, Sing fair Dorinda, and drink bottled Ale. At all Assemblies Rakes are up and down, And Gamesters where they think they are not known. Shou'd I denounce our Author's Fate to-day, To cry down Prophecies, you'd damn the Play; Yet Whims like these have sometimes made you laugh, 'Tis Tattling all like Isaac Bickerstaff. Since War and Places claim the Bards that write, Be kind, and bear a Woman's Treat to-night; Let your Indulgence all her Fears allay, And none but Women-Haters damn this Play.

EPILOGUE.

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In me you see one Busy Body more; Though you may have enough of one before. With Epilogues, the Busy Body's Way, We strive to help, but sometimes mar a Play. At this mad Sessions, half condemn'd ere try'd, Some, in three Days have been turn'd off, and died. In spite of Parties, their Attempts are vain, For, like false Prophets, they ne'er rise again. Too late, when cast, your Favour one beseeches, And Epilogues prove Execution-Speeches. Yet sure I spy no Busy Bodies here, And one may pass, since they do ev'ry where. Sour Criticks Time, and Breath and Censures waste, And baulk your Pleasure to refine your Taste, One busy Don ill-tim'd high Tenets preaches, Another yearly shows himself in Speeches. Some snivelling Cits would have a Peace for spite, To starve those Warriors who so bravely fight; Still of a Foe upon his Knees afraid, Whose well-bang'd Troops want Money, Heart and Bread. Old Beaux, who none, not ev'n themselves can please, Are busy still, for nothing——but to teize. The Young, so busy to engage a Heart, The Mischief done, are busy most to part. Ungrateful Wretches, who still cross one's Will, When they more kindly might be busy still. One to a Husband, who ne'er dreamt of Horns, Shows how dear Spouse with Friend his Brows adorns. Th' officious Tell-tale Fool, (he shou'd repent it) Parts three kind Souls that liv'd at Peace contented. Some with Law-Quirks set Houses by the Ears, With Physick one what he would heal impairs; Like that dark mob'd-up Fry, that Neighbr'ing Curse, Who to remove Love's Pains bestow a worse. Since then this meddling Tribe infest the Age, Bear one awhile expos'd upon the Stage: Let none but Busy Bodies vent their Spight, And with good-humour, Pleasure crown the Night.

Dramatis Personæ.

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MEN.
Sir George Airy, a Gentleman of Four Thousand a Year, in Love with Miranda,	Mr. Wilks.
Sir Francis Gripe, Guardian to Miranda and Marplot, Father to Charles, in Love with Miranda,	Mr. Estcourt.
Charles, Friend to Sir George, in Love with Isabinda,	Mr. Mills.
Sir Jealous Traffick, a Merchant that had liv'd some Time in Spain, a great Admirer of the Spanish Customs, Father to Isabinda,	Mr. Bullock.
Marplot, a sort of a silly Fellow, cowardly, but very inquisitive to know every body's Business, generally spoils all he undertakes, yet without Design,	Mr. Pack.
Whisper, Servant to Charles,	Mr. Bullock, jun.

WOMEN.
Miranda, an Heiress, worth Thirty Thousand Pounds, really in Love with Sir George, but pretends to be so with her Guardian Sir Francis,	Mrs. Cross.
Isabinda, Daughter to Sir Jealous, in Love with Charles, but design'd for a Spanish Merchant by her Father, and kept up from the Sight of all Men,	Mrs. Rogers.
Patch, her Woman,	Mrs. Saunders.
Scentwell, Woman to Miranda,	Mrs. Mills.

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