Smi. Prepare myfelf! what the devil does the fool mean? Bayes. Why, I'll tell you now, what I do. *If I am to write familiar things, as fonnets to Armida, and the like, I make use of stew'd prunes only; but when I have a grand design in hand, I ever take phyfick, and let blood: for, when you would have pure swiftnefs of thought, and fiery flights of fancy, you must have a care of the penfive part. In fine, you must purge the belly. Smi. By my troth, Sir, this is a moft admirable receipt, for writing. Bayes. Ay, 'tis my fecret; and in good earnest, I think one of the beft I have. Smi. In good faith, Sir, and that may very well be. Bayes. May be, Sir! I'gad, I'm fure on't: experto crede Roberto. But I must give you this caution by the way, be fure you never take † fnuff, when you write. * If I am to write familiar things, &c.] This humorous account of Mr. Bayes's management of himself, is a banter upon Mr. Dryden's practice, which is alledged to have been much as here represented. + Be sure you never take snuff, &c.] Mr. Dryden was a great taker of fnuff, and made most of it himself. Smi. Why fo, Sir? Bayes. Why, it spoil'd me once, I'gad, one of the sparkishest plays in all England. But a friend of mine at Gresham-College has promis'd to help me to fome spirit of brains, and l'gad that shall do my bufinefs. SCENE II. Enter the two Kings, hand in hand. Bayes. Oh, these are now the two kings of Brentford; take notice of their ftile: 'twas never yet upon the ftage; but if you like it, I could make a shift, perhaps, to fhew you a whole play writ all juft fo. 1 King. Did you obferve their whispers, brother king? 2 King. I did, and heard befides a grave bird fing, That they intend, sweet heart, to play us pranks. Bayes. This is now familiar, because they are both perfons of the fame quality. Smi. S'death, this would make a man fpew. 1 King. If that design appears, I'll lug 'em by the ears; Until I make 'em crack, 2 King. 2 King. And fo will I, i'fack. 1 King. You must begin, mon foy. 2 King. Sweet Sir, pardonnez moy : Bayes. Mark that I make 'em both fpeak French to fhew their breeding. Johnf. O, 'tis extraordinary fine! 2 King. Then fpite of fate, we'll thus combined ftand; And, like true brothers, walk ftill hand in hand. [Exeunt Reges. Johnf. This is a majestic scene indeed. Bayes. Ay, 'tis a crust, a lasting cruft for your rogue-criticks, I'gad; I would fain fee the proudeft of 'em all but dare to nibble at this; I'gad, if they do, this fhall rub their gums for 'em, I promife you. It was I, you must know, that have written a whole play juft in this very fame stile; it was never acted yet. Johns. How fo? Bayes. I'gad, I can hardly tell you, for laughing, ha, ha, ha, it is so pleasant a ftory: Ha, ha, ha. Smi. What is't? Bayes. I'gad the players refus'd to act it. Ha, ha, ha. Smi. That's impoffible. D 3 Bayes. Bayes. l'gad they did it, Sir; point-blank refus'd it, I'gad, ha, ha, ha. Johnf. Fie, that was rude. Bayes. Rude, ay, I'gad they are the rudeft, uncivileft perfons, and all that, in the whole world, I'gad: I'gad, there's no living with 'em I have written, Mr. Johnson, I do verily believe, a whole cart-load of things, every whit as good as this, and yet, I vow to gad, thefe infolent rafcals have turn'd 'em all back upon my hands again. Johnf. Strange fellows, indeed! Smi. But pray, Mr. Bayes, how came these two kings to know of this whisper! for as I remember, they were not at it. Bayes. No, but that's the actors fault, and not mine; for the two kings should, a pox take 'em, have popp'd both their heads in at the door, just as the other went off. Smi. That, indeed wou'd ha' done it. Bayes. Done it! Ay, I'gad, these fellows are able to spoil the best things in Chriftendom. I'll tell you, Mr. Johnfon, I vow to gad, I have been fo highly disoblig'd by the peremptoriness of these fellows, that I'm refolv'd hereafter to bend my thoughts wholly for the fervice of the nurfery, and mump your proud players, I'gad. So, now prince prince Pretty-man comes in, and falls afleep making love to his mistress, which, you know, was a grand intrigue in a late play, written by a very honeft gentleman; by a knight. SCENE II. Enter Prince Pretty-man. Pret. How ftrange a captive am I grown of late! And against fate, what mortal dares repine? But here fhe comes. Sure 'tis fome blazing comet! Is it not? [Lies down. Bayes. Blazing comet! Mark that, I'gad, very fine! Pret. But I am so furpriz'd with fleep, I cannot speak the reft. [Лeeps. Bayes. Does not that now furprize you to fall asleep in the nick? His spirits exhale with the heat of his paffion, and all that, and, fwop, falls afleep as you fee. Now here fhe muft make a fimile. * In a late play, &c.] viz. The Loft Lady, wrote by Sir Robert Stapleton. D 4 Smi. |