Much Ado: A Dialogue

MUCH ADO: A Dialogue

The Persons.

An old Gentleman. His Friend. Mr.

Johnson. His two Nieces. Veny, a

Lap-dog, &c.

  Old Gent:  Lost, say you?

  Friend:  Ay, Sir, cast away.

  Old Gent:  And no account how?

  Fr.  Not the least. 'Tis agreed on all han, that every soul perished.

  Old Gent:  Well, 'tis a sad affair; but we are all mortal, and-

Enter Nieces

  1st Niece:  Indeed, Madam, said she, if your ladyship will but consider, the flounces are not at all too deep- Lord! Mrs. La Soye, said I, they are too deep by a mile.- Your ladyship, said she, must remember the robeings.- The robeings, Mrs. La Soye, said I-

  Old Gent:  Nieces! Nieces! have you heard the news?

  1st Niece:  What, Sir? What?

  2nd Niece:  Dear uncle, what? I long to hear.

  Old Gent:  The Victory is lost.

  1st Niece:  And who won it, pray?

  Old Gent:  I mean, child, the ship so called is cast away; and in her a gallant admiral, and a thousand brave seamen. - A sad accident! Are you not sorry to hear it?

  1st Niece:  Lord, Sir, you know I am no politician.- I don't understand these matters.

  2nd Niece:  Well, I was always mightily afraid of water. You remember, cousin Jenny, I was once like to be drowned. Lord, what a sweet pair of shoes did I spoil by the wet!

  1st Niece:  You mean when you fell into the great puddle in the Mall.

  2nd Niece:  I do.

  1st Niece:  That was the very morning Mrs. Lay Soye brought home your pink damask.  Captain O Blaze met us, you remember, in blue and silver. No, no; 'twasn't blue neither - 'twas brown, turned up with brocade.

  2nd Niece:  Upon my word he never wore brocade till above a week after.

  1st Niece:  Then it must be the blue and silver.

  2nd Niece:  Stay, let me reflect a little. - (Suddenly Starting)- O lord! Jenny, look! look this moment! Help! help!

  1st Niece:  O! heavens! uncle! uncle! where's my uncle? For God's sake, help! - Poor dear little soul, 'twill be drown'd this very moment; twill be lost this instant.

  2nd Niece:  That odious turkey-cock! Who let him into the garden?

  Old Gent:  Heyday! heyday! what's the matter now?

  1st Niece: Lord, Sir, see - Veny, Sir, - Poor dear Veny - in the canal- frightened in by the turkey-cock.

  2nd Niece: Sweet creature! it can't swim; it never learnt.

  Old Gent:  Tom! Here! - Lend me thy rake.

  Friend:  Look, Sir; look - Miss Jenny faints.

  Old Gent:  Be so kind to dip up a little water, and fling in her face.

  2nd Niece:  Speak, my dear, speak!- Lord! Lord! what have I done with my bottle of salts? I can't find it for my life - Speak, Jenny; speak, my dear! - And poor Veny too! - Mr. Johnson, you are vastly good; for you have thrown a prodigious deal of water upon my cousin.

  Friend:  She is coming, madam, to herself - I believe we have fetch'd her.

  Old Gent:  Well, niece, I have raked himout - Don't be terrify'd - Veny's not drown'd this bout.

  1st Niece:  (recovering herself , and hugging Veny) - Little dear thing! how monstrously 'tis frighten'd? How it pants, and it quakes, and it drops, and it shivers? If it should take cold now, or have fits! - Well, please god, I'll send you to Dr. Slaughter this moment, and have his advice.

  Old Gent:  Come, come, niece, as the danger's over, better take a turn or two in the garden.  A little washing will do the dog no harm - But to return, Mr. Johnson, to the bad news - Don't it make you melancholy, to think on the loss of this brave ship?

  1st Niece:  Don't you shudder, my dear, to think on what might have happened to poor Veny?

  Old Gent:  How was it possible the pilot could be so mistaken?

  1st Niece:  How could Tom be such a wretch, as to let the turkey-cock into the garden? An abominable fellow, to mind nothing in the world but his cucumbers, and his melons, and his trumpery, and not to consider that -

  Old Gent:  Hark! hark! the dinnerbell! - Dinner, nieces! dinner!

  1st Niece:  - Nor to consider that such a great filthy, two-legg'd bird-

  Old Gent:  Dinner, I say! dinner!

  Both Nieces:  Lord, Sir, we are coming.- Would you have us fly?

  Old Gent:  Come along;  come along

[Exeunt omnes]

The London Magazine, and Monthly Chronologer. Ireland, Edward Ekshaw, 1741.

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