_Heart._ From other people's expense.

_Bel._ That's being a spunger, Sir, which is scarce honest. If you'd buy some experience with your own money, as 'twould be fairlier got, so 'twould stick longer by you.

_Berinthia._ Ah, Amanda, it's a delicious thing to be a young widow!

_Aman._ You'll hardly make me think so.

_Ber._ Phu! because you are in love with your husband; but that is not every woman's case.

_Aman._ I hope 'twas yours at least.

_Ber._ Mine, say ye? Now I have a great mind to tell you a lie, but I should do it so awkwardly you'd find me out.

_Aman._ Then e'en speak the truth.

_Ber._ Shall I? Then after all, I did love him, Amanda, as a man does penance.

_Aman._ Why did you not refuse to marry him, then?

_Ber._ Because my mother would have whipped me.

_Aman._ How did you live together?

_Ber._ Like man and wife--asunder. He loved the country, I the town. He hawks and hounds, I coaches and equipage. He eating and drinking, I carding and playing. He the sound of a horn, I the squeak of a fiddle. Whenever we met we gave one another the spleen.

_Aman._ But tell me one thing truly and sincerely.

_Ber._ What's that?

_Aman._ Notwithstanding all these jars, did not his death at last extremely trouble you?

_Ber._ O, yes. Not that my present pangs were so very violent, but the after pangs were intolerable. I was forced to wear a beastly widow's band a twelvemonth for 't.

In the "Journey to London," written at the end of Vanbrugh's life, and not finished, there is a very amusing account of the manner in which a country squire and family travelled up to London in the seventeenth century.

_James._ They have added two cart-horses to the four old mares, because my lady will have it said she came to town in her coach-and-six; and ha! ha! heavy George, the ploughman, rides postilion!

_Uncle Richard._ Very well; the journey begins as it should do--James!

_James._ Sir!

_Uncle R._ Dost know whether they bring all the children with them?

_James._ Only Squire Humphry and Miss Betty, Sir; the other six are put to board at half-a-crown a week a head with Joan Growse, at Smoke-dunghill Farm.

_Uncle R._ The Lord have mercy upon all good folks! What work will these people make! Dost know when they'll be here?

_James._ John says, Sir, they'd have been here last night, but that the old wheezy-belly horse tired, and the two fore-wheels came crash down at once in Waggon-rut Lane. Sir, they were cruelly loaden, as I understand. My lady herself, he says, laid on four mail trunks, besides the great deal-box, which fat Tom sat upon behind.

_Uncle R._ So.

_James._ Then within the coach there was Sir Francis, my lady, the great fat lap-dog, Squire Humphry, Miss Betty, my lady's maid, Mrs.

Handy, and Doll Tripe, the cook--but she puked with sitting backward, so they mounted her into the coach-box.

_Uncle R._ Very well.

_James._ Then, Sir, for fear of a famine before they should get to the baiting-place, there was such baskets of plum-cake, Dutch gingerbread, Cheshire cheese, Naples biscuits, maccaroons, neats'

tongues, and cold boiled beef; and in case of sickness, such bottles of usquebaugh, black-cherry brandy, cinnamon water, sack, tent, and strong beer, as made the old coach crack again.

_Uncle R._ Well said!

_James._ And for defence of this good cheer, and my lady's little pearl necklace, there was the family basket-hilt sword, the great Turkish cimiter, the old blunder-buss, a good bag of bullets, and a great horn of gunpowder.

_Uncle R._ Admirable!

Vanbrugh's friend, Colley Cibber, was also of foreign origin. His father was a native of Holstein, and coming over to England before the Restoration, is known as having executed the two figures of lunatics, for the gates of Bethlehem Hospital. Colley commenced life as an actor and playwriter, and Vanbrugh was so pleased with his "Love's Last Shift, or the Fool of Fashion," that he wrote an improved version of it in "The Relapse." Thus Sir Novelty Fashion was developed into Lord Foppington, and Vanbrugh, who patronized Cibber, employed him to act the character.

He was an exception to the rule that a good playwriter is not a good performer. In Cibber, we especially mark the Spanish element, which then tinged the drama, and although somewhat prosy and sententious, he is fertile and entertaining in his love intrigues. Of real humour, he seems to have no gift--some of his best attempts referring to such common failures as sometimes occur at hotels. We have in "She wou'd, and she wou'd not,"

_Host._ Did you call, gentlemen?

_Trapparti._ Yes, and bawl too, Sir. Here the gentlemen are almost famished, and n.o.body comes near 'em. What have you in the house now that will be ready presently?

_Host._ You may have what you please, Sir.

_Hypolita._ Can you get us a partridge?

_Host._ We have no partridges; but we'll get you what you please in a moment. We have a very good neck of mutton, Sir, if you please, it shall be clapt down in a moment.

_Hyp._ Have you any pigeons or chickens?

_Host._ Truly, Sir, we have no fowl in the house at present; if you please, you may have anything else in a moment.

_Hyp._ Then, prithee, get us some young rabbits.

_Host._ Upon my word, Sir, rabbits are so scarce, they are not to be had for money.

_Trap._ Have you any fish?

_Host._ Fish! Sir; I dressed yesterday the finest dish that ever came upon a table; I am sorry we have none, Sir; but, if you please, you may have anything else in a moment.

_Trap._ Hast thou nothing but Anything else in the house?

_Host._ Very good mutton, Sir.

_Hyp._ Prithee, get us a breast, then.