The devil upon two sticks: a comedy, in three acts. As it is performed at the Theatre-Royal in the Haymarket. Written by the late Samuel Foote, Esq. and now published by Mr. Colman.

ACT I. A Room.

Enter Sir Thomas Maxwell and Margaret.

Sir Thomas.

WHY, the woman is mad! these curs'd news-paper patriots have shatter'd her brains! nothing less than a senator of seven years standing can conceive what she means.

Marg.

Why, Sir Thomas, my conversation is neither deficient in order, precision, or dignity.

Sir Tho.

Dignity! and what occasion for dignity in tne common concerns of my house? why the deuce can't you converse like the rest of the world? If you want money to pay off my bills, you move me for further supplies; if I turn away a

servant, you condemn me for so often changing my ministry; and because I lock up my daugh|ter, to prevent her eloping with the paltry clerk of a pitiful trader, it is forsooth an invasion of the Bill of Rights, and a mortal stab to the great Charter of Liberty.

Marg.

As Serjeant Second'em said in the debate on the corn-bill,

Then why don't you chuse better ground, brother, and learn to enlarge your bottom a little? Consider, you must draw the line of liberty somewhere; for if these rights belong

—

Sir Tho.

Mercy on us!

Marg.

But indeed, my dear brother, you are got quite out of your depth: Woman, I tell you, is a microcosm, and rightly to rule her requires as great talents, as to govern a state. And what says the Aphorism of Cardinal Polignac?

If you would not have a person deceive you, be careful not to let him know you mistrust him!

and so of your daughter.

Sir Tho.

Mrs. Margaret Maxwell, bestow your advice where it is wanted! Out of my depth? a likely story indeed, that I, who am fix'd here in a national trust, appointed guardian of the Eng|lish interest at the court of Madrid, should not know how to manage a girl!

Marg.

And pray, Mr. Consul, what informa|tion

will your station afford you? I don't deny your knowledge in export and import, nor doubt your skill in the difference between wet and dry goods; you may weigh with exactness the bal|lance of trade, or explain the true spirit of a treaty of commerce; the surface, the mere skimmings of the political pot!

Sir Tho.

Mighty well!

Marg.

But had you, with me, traced things to their original source; had you discover'd all social subordination to arise from original compact; had you read Machiavel, Montesquieu, Locke, Bacon, Hobbes, Harrington, Hume; had you studied the political testaments of Alberoni and Cardinal Richlieu—

Sir Tho.

Mercy on us!

Marg.

Had you analiz'd the Pragmatic Sanc|tion, and the family-compact; had you toil'd thro' the laborious page of the Vinerian professor, or esti|mated the prevailing manners with the Vicar of Newcastle; in a word, had you read Amicus upon Taxation, and Inimicus upon Representa|tion, you would have known—

Sir Tho.

What?

Marg.

That, in spite of the frippery French Salick laws, woman is a free agent, a noun substantive entity, and, when treated with con|fidence——

Sir Tho.

Why, perhaps, she may not abuse it: But still, my sage sister, it is but a perhaps; now my method is certain, infallible; by confining her, I can't be deceiv'd.

Marg.

And pray, Sir, what right have you to confine her? look in your Puffendorff! tho' born in Spain, she is a native of England; her birth-right is liberty—a better patrimonial estate than any of your despotic countries could give her.

Sir Tho.

Zooks, you would tire the patience of Job! Pray answer me this; is Harriet my daughter?

Marg.

What then? for that inestimable blessing she is not beholden to you; nor can you, tho' a father, with reason, justice, or law, take it from her.

Sir Tho.

Why, Margaret, you forget where you are! This, child, is the town of Madrid; you are amongst a sage, steady people, who know and revere the natural rights of a parent.

Marg.

Natural rights! Can a right to tyran|nize be founded in nature?

Sir Tho.

Look'ee, Margaret! you are but losing your time; for unless you can prevail on Count Wall, or the president of Castille, to grant you a Habeas, why Harriet shall stay where she is.

Marg.

Ay, ay, you know where you are; but,

if my niece will take my advice, the justice that is denied to her here, she will instantly seek for elsewhere.

Sir Tho.

Elsewhere? hark you, sister! is it thus you answer my purpose in bringing you hither? I hop'd to have my daughter's principles form'd by your prudence; her conduct directed by your ex|perience and wisdom.

Marg.

The preliminary is categorically true.

Sir Tho.

Then why don't you abide by the treaty?

Marg.

Yes; you have given me powerful motives!

Sir Tho.

But another word, madam! as I don't chuse that Harriet should imbibe any more of your romantic republican notions, I shall take it as a great favour if you would prepare to quit this country with the first opportunity.

Marg.

You need not have remonstrated; a peti|tion would have answered your purpose: I did in|tend to withdraw, and without taking leave; nor will I reside on a spot where the great charter of my sex is hourly invaded! No, Sir Thomas, I shall re|turn to the land of liberty! but there expect to have your despotic dealings properly and publickly handled.

Sir Tho.

What, you design to turn author?

Marg.

There's no occasion for that; liberty has already a champion in one of my sex: The same

pen that has dar'd to scourge the arbitrary actions of some of our monarchs, shall do equal justice to the oppressive power of parents!

Sir Tho.

With all my heart.

Marg.

I may, perhaps, be too late to get you into the historical text; but, I promise you, you shall be soundly swinged in the marginal note.

Enter a Servant, who whispers Sir Thomas.

Sir Tho.

What! now?

Serv.

This instant.

Sir Tho.

How did he get in?

Serv.

By a ladder of ropes, dropped, I suppose, by Miss Harriet from the balcony.

Sir Tho.

That way, I reckon, he thinks to retreat; but I shall prevent him! Here, Dick, do you and Ralph run into the street, and front the house with a couple of carbines; bid James bring my toledo; and let the rest of the fel|lows follow my steps!

Marg.

Hey-day! what can be the meaning of this civil commotion?

Sir Tho.

Nothing extraordinary; only the natural consequence of some of your salutary suggestions.

Marg.

Mine, Sir Thomas?

Sir Tho.

Yes, yours, sister Margaret!

Marg.

I don't understand you.

Sir Tho.

Oh, nothing but Harriet making use

of her great natural charter of liberty, by let|ting young Invoice, Abraham Indigo's clerk, by the means of a ladder of ropes, into her chamber.

Marg.

I am not surprized.

Sir Tho.

Nor I neither.

Marg.

The instant your suspicions gave her a guard, I told her the act was tantamount to an open declaration of war, and sanctified every stratagem.

Sir Tho.

You did? mighty well, madam! I hope then, for once, you will approve my proceedings; the law of nations shall be strictly observed; you shall see how a spy ought to be treated, who is caught in the enemy's camp!

Enter Servant with the toledo.

Oh, here's my trusty toledo. Come, follow your leader!

Exit with Servants.

Marg.

Oh, Sir, I shall pursue, and reconoitre your motions; and tho' no cartel is settled be|tween you, take care how you infringe the jus gentium.

Exit Marg.

Another chamber. Harriet and Invoice discovered.

Har.

Are you sure you were not observed?

Inv.

I believe not.

Har.

Well, Mr. Invoice, you can, I think, now, no longer doubt of my kindness; tho', let me tell you, you are a good deal indebted for this early proof of it, to my father's severity.

Inv.

I am sorry; madam, an event, so happy for me, should proceed from so unlucky a cause: But are there no hopes that Sir Thomas may be softened in time?

Har.

None: He is, both from nature and habit, inflexibly obstinate. This too is his fa|vourite foible; no German baron was ever more attached to the genealogical laws of alliance than he: Marry his daughter to a person in trade? no! Put his present favourite out of the question, he can never be brought to submit to it.

Inv.

Dear Miss Harriet, then why will you hesitate? there can be no other alternative; you must either submit to marry the count, or by flight escape from the—

Har.

No, Mr. Invoice, not till the last ne|cessity drives me. Besides, where can we go? how subsist? whe will receive us?

Inv.

The world is all before us where to chuse; and, as we fly from oppression, Providence our guide.

Har.

The world, Mr. Invoice, is but a cold kind of common; and, as to Providence, let

us first be sure we deserve its protection.—

A noise without.

Bless me! don't I hear some bustle below?

Inv.

Madam!

Har.

Hush! my father, as I live! I fear, Mr. Invoice, you are discovered.

Inv.

No, surely!

Sir Tho.

without.

Have you secured all the posts?

Serv.

without.

All, Sir.

Sir. Tho.

Both the front and the rear?

Serv.

Both.

Har.

Lost, past redemption!

Sir Tho.

Then advance! now let us unhar|bour the rascal!

Har.

What can we do?

Sir Tho.

Come, madam, open your doors!

Har.

The balcony, quick, Mr. Invoice, the balcony!

Sir Tho.

Unlock, Mrs. Minx! your minion is discovered!

Inv.

A couple of fellows stand below, with their pieces pointed directly against it.

Sir Tho.

What, then, you will compel us to batter?

Har.

The whole house is surrounded! how can you escape?

Inv.

Where will this window conduct us?

Har.

To the leads that join our house to the chymist's.

Inv.

To the leads? it is but a step; there is no danger.

Har.

Then instantly fly! you have every thing to fear from my father.

Sir Tho.

John, fetch the mattock and crow!

Inv.

And leave my Harriet behind me?

Har.

Secure yourself, and abandon me to my fate.

Inv.

No, madam, that I will never do; I'll dare your father's utmost resentment.

Sir Tho.

Where is that rascal a-loitering?

Har.

Then you are lost!

Inv.

Would my Harriet accompany my flight—

Har.

Can you desire it?

Inv.

I do, I do; my dearest angel, I do! By all that's sacred, your honour shall be as se|cure with me as in the cell of a saint!

Har.

But character, decency, prudence—

Inv.

The occasion, the danger, all justify—

Sir Tho.

Oh, what, you are come at last.

Inv.

Determine, my life! You have but a moment—

Har.

Should you, Mr. Invoice, deceive me—

Inv.

When I do, may my last hope deceive me!

Har.

It is a bold, a dangerous step!

Inv.

Fear, nothing, my love!

Advances to the window, and gets out.

Sir Tho.

Drive at the pannel.

Marg.

without.

I enter my protest!

Sir Tho.

And I will enter the room!

Inv.

Now leap; all is safe.

Harriet gets out at the window.

Sir Thomas, adieu!

Sir Tho.

Wrench open the lock!

Marg.

Ay, do, at your peril!

Sir Tho.

Down with the door!

Marg.

Then you shall all be swingeingly sous'd. Produce your authority!

Sir Tho.

Mine.

Marg.

You have none; not so much as the sanction of a general warrant.

Sir Tho.

What, then, I see I must do it myself: There it goes! Pretty law indeed, to lock a man out of his own house!

Enter Sir Thomas, Margaret, and Servants.

Now, Mrs.—Heyday! what are become of the parties? vanished?

Marg.

Deceiv'd by your spies! no uncommon thing, brother, for a blundering general.

Sir Tho.

You are sure you saw him come in?

Serv.

Certain, Sir Thomas.

Sir Tho.

Then I warrant we will ferret them

out. Come, lads! let not a corner escape you!

Exeunt Sir Tho. and Servants.

Marg.

I shall wait on your motions, and bring up the rear.

Exit.

Scene changes to the Chymist's.

Enter Invoice and Harriet, through the sash.

Inv.

Safely landed, however.

Har.

Are you sure you are not pursued?

Inv.

Not a soul: Never fear! they will hardly venture this road.

Har.

What a step have you induced me to take! to what distress and difficulties have I ex|posed myself!

Inv.

Banish your fears, and let us look forward, my love.

Har.

Nay, I have gone too far to retreat. Well, Sir, what is next to be done?

Inv.

The Spaniards are naturally generous; perhaps, upon hearing our story, the owner of the house may lend his assistance. This, I sup|pose, is the Laboratory, and this door leads to the shop.

Devil

in a bottle.

Heigh-ho!

Har.

Who is that?

Inv.

That! where?

Har.

Did not you hear a voice?

Inv.

None. Fancy, my love; only your feats.

Devil.

Heigh-ho!

Har.

There again!

Inv.

I hear it now.—Who is there?

Devil.

Me.

Inv.

Me? he speaks English! Who and where are you?

Devil.

Here in this bottle; where I have been cork'd up for these six months.

Inv.

Cork'd up in a bottle! I never heard of such a thing in my life, unless, indeed, in the Hay|market once.—Cork'd up in a bottle, d'ye say?

Devil.

Ay; by the master of this house, a magician.

Inv.

A magician! Why then you are a spirit, I suppose.

Devil.

You are right; I am the Devil.

Har.

Mercy on us!

Devil.

Don't be terrified, Miss: You remem|ber the old proverb,

The Devil is not so black as he is painted.

Inv.

Well, but, Sir—

Devil.

A truce to your questions, my good Sir, for the present!—Consider, ramm'd up in this narrow compass, I can't be much at my ease; now if you will but break the bottle before you on the floor——

Har.

For heaven's sake, Mr. Invoice, take care what you do!

Devil.

Why, my pretty Miss, what risque do you run? your affairs can hardly be changed for the worse.

Har.

That's true, indeed!

Devil.

Believe me, Miss, as matters stand, we can be of mutual use: Your lover may deliver me from prison, and I can prevent you both from go|ing into confinement.

Inv.

What says my Harriet? shall I rely on the gentleman's word?

Devil.

Do, madam! I am a Devil of honour. Besides, you have but a little time to consider; in less than five minutes, you will have the Con|sul and all his crew in the house.

Inv.

Nay, then—Pray which is the bottle?

Devil.

That in the middle, right before you.

Inv.

There it goes!

He breaks the bottle, and Devil rises out of it. Thunder.

Har.

Oh, what a—

Devil.

I am not surpriz'd, Miss, that you are a little shock'd at my figure: I could have assum'd a much more agreeable form; but as we are to be a little better acquainted, I thought it best to quit all disguise and pretence; therefore, madam, you see me just as I am.

Har.

I am sure, Sir, you are ve—ve—very agreeable.

Devil.

Yo—yo—you are pleas'd to compliment, madam.—Come, answer me sincerely; am I such a being as you expected to see?

Har.

Really, Sir, I can hardly say what I ex|pected to see.

Devil.

I own it is a puzzling question; at least, if the world does us justice in the contradictory qualities they are pleas'd to afford us.

Inv.

You will forgive me, if I don't understand you.

Devil.

Why, for all their superlative epithets, you cannot but see how much men are beholden to us; by our means it is that you measure the extent both of your virtues and vices.

Inv.

As how?

Devil.

As thus: In describing your friends, or your foes, they are devilish rich, devilish poor, devilish ugly, devilish handsome; now and then, indeed, to vary the mode of conversing, you make a little free with our condition and country, as, hellish dull, damn'd clever, hellish cold; Psha! how damn'd hot it is!

Inv.

True, Sir; but I consider this as a rhetori|cal figure, a manner of speaking devis'd and practis'd by dulness, to conceal the lack of ideas, and the want of expressions.

Devil.

Partly that, I confess: Not but there is some truth in the case; for at different times we

have the power, and do assume the various forms, you assign us.

Inv.

We? I observe you always make use of the plural; is that, Sir, by way of distinction, or, is your family pretty large and extensive?

Devil.

Multitudinous as the sands on the beach, or the moats in a sun-beam: How the deuce else do you think we could do all the business below? Why, there's scarce an individual amongst you, at least of any rank or importance, but has five or six of us in his train.

Inv.

Indeed!

Devil.

A little before I got rammed in that phial, I had been for some time on very hard duty in this part of the world.

Inv.

Of what kind?

Devil.

The Daemon of Power and I had long laid siege to a subject, the man a grandee; I was then a popular spirit, and wore the mask of a patriot; at different times, we possessed him by turns; but, in the midst of a violent struggle (by which means I got lame on this leg, and ob|tained the nick-name of the Devil Upon Sticks), the Daemon of Vanity, a low under-strapper amongst us, held over his head a circle of gold, with five knobs on the top, and, whew! flew away with our prize in an instant.

Inv.

Under-strapper! what, are there different ranks and orders amongst you?

Devil.

Without doubt.

Inv.

And, pray, Sir—I hope, no offence; but I would not be wanting in proper respect— are you, when at home, of condition? or how must I—

Devil.

You mean, am I a Devil of fashion, or one of the base born?

Inv.

I do.

Devil.

I have no reason to be asham'd of my family.

Inv.

I don't doubt it. You will forgive me, if I make a mistake: Perhaps, my lord Lucifer.

Devil.

Who?

Inv.

Lord Lucifer.

Devil.

Lord Lucifer? how little you know of our folks! Lucifer a lord! Why, that's the meanest rascal amongst us.

Inv.

Indeed!

Devil.

Oh, a paltry mechanic! the very genius of jobbing! a mere Bull and Bear booby; the patron of lame ducks, brokers, and fraudulent bankrupts.

Inv.

You amaze me! I vow I always thought him a principal agent.

Devil.

He! Not at all. The fellow, indeed, gave himself some airs of importance, upon following the camp, and having the Contractors and Commissaries under his care; but that affair, you know, closed with the war.

Inv.

What, then, are they now entirely out of his hands?

Devil.

Yes; quite out of his: He only sug|gested their cent. per cent. squeezings, and prompted the various modes of extortion and rapine: But, in his room, they have six or seven Daemons a-piece, to direct the dissipation of their ill-gotten wealth.

Inv.

Indeed!

Devil.

Poor Lucifer, it is all over with him! if it were not for the fluctuation of India, an occasional lottery, or a contested election, the Alley would be empty, and Lucifer have as little to do as a pickpocket when the playhouses are shut.

Inv.

Perhaps, Sir, then your name may be Belzebub?

Devil.

He? worse and worse! Not a devil that has the least regard to his character would chuse to be seen in his company: Besides, it is the most petulant, waspish, quarrelsome cur— But no wonder; he is the imp of chicane, and protects the rotten part of the law.

Inv.

Then he, at least, has employment enough.

Devil.

Yes, during the Term, he has a good deal to do: He is the parent of quibbles, the guardian of pettifoggers, bad bail, and of bailiffs;

the supporter of alibi's, the source of sham pleas, the maker and finder of flaws, the patron of perjury, and a sworn foe to all trials by jury! Not long ago, though, my gentleman was put to his shifts.

Inv.

How was that?

Devil.

The law had laid hold of an old friend of his, for being too positive as to a matter of fact; evidence, evasion, protraction, pleas, every art, was employed to acquit him, that the most consummate skill could suggest; but all to no purpose.

Inv.

That was strange.

Devil.

Beyond all belief; he could have hang'd a dozen innocent people, with half the pains that this paltry perjury gave him.

Inv.

How came that about?

Devil.

Why—I don't know—he had unfor|tunately to do with an obstinate magistrate, who bears a mortal hatred to rogues, and whose sagacity could not be deceived. But, however, tho' he was not able to save his friend from the shame of conviction (a trifle, which he indeed but little regarded), yet he had the address to evade, or at least defer, the time of his pu|nishment.

Inv.

By what means?

Devil.

By finding a flaw.

Inv.

A flaw! what's a flaw?

Devil.

A legal loop-hole, that the lawyers leave open for a rogue now and then to creep through, that the game mayn't be wholly de|stroyed.

Inv.

Provident sportsmen! Would it not be too much trouble to favour me with this particular instance?

Devil.

Not at all. Why, Sir, when matters grew desperate, and the case was given over for lost, little Belzy starts up in the form of an able practitioner, and humbly conceived, that his client could not be convicted upon that indictment; forasmuch as therein he was charg'd with forswearing himself NOW; whereas it clearly appeared, by the evidence, that he had only forsworn himself THEN: If, indeed, he had been indicted generally, for committing perjury now AND then, proofs might be produced of any perjury he may have committed; whereas, by limiting the point of time to the now, no proofs could be admitted as to the then: So that, with submission, he humbly conceived, his client was clearly absolved, and his character as fair and as spotless as a babe that's just born, and immaculate as a sheet of white paper.

Inv.

And the objection was good?

Devil.

Fatal; there was no getting rid of the flaw.

Inv.

And the gentleman—

Devil.

Walks about at his ease; not a public place, but he thrusts his person full in your face.

Inv.

That ought not to be; the contempt of the Public, that necessary supplement to the best-digested body of laws, should in these cases be never dispensed with.

Devil.

In days of yore, when the world was but young, that method had merit, and the sense of shame was a kind of a curb; but knaves are now so numerous and wealthy, they can keep one another in countenance, and laugh at the rest of the world.

Inv.

There may be something in that.— Well, Sir, I have twice been out of my guess; will you give me leave to hazard a third? Per|haps you are Belphegor, or Uriel?

Devil.

Neither. They too are but diminutive devils: The first favours the petty, pilfering frauds; he may be traced in the double score and soap'd pot of the publican, the allum and chalk of the baker, in the sophisticated mixtures of the brewers of wine and of beer, and in the false measures and weights of them all.

Inv.

And Uriel?

Devil.

He is the Daemon of quacks and of mountebanks; a thriving race all over the world, but their true seat of empire is England:

There, a short sword, a tye, and a nostrum, a month's advertising, with a shower of handbills, never fail of creating a fortune. But of this tribe I foresee I shall have occasion to speak hereafter.

Inv.

Well. but, Sir—

Devil.

Come, Sir, I will put an end to your pain; for, from my appearance, it is impossible you should ever guess at my person.—Now, Miss, what think you of Cupid.

Har.

You? you Cupid? you the gay god of love?

Devil.

Yes; me, me, Miss!—What, I sup|pose you expected the quiver at my back, and the bow in my hand; the purple pinions, and filleted forehead, with the blooming graces of youth and of beauty.

Har.

Why, I can't but say the poets had taught me to expect charms—

Devil.

That never existed but in the fire of their fancy; all fiction and phrenzy!

Inv.

Then, perhaps, Sir, these creative gen|tlemen may err as much in your office, as it is clear they have mistaken your person.

Devil.

Why, their notions of me are but narrow. It is true, I do a little business in the amorous way; but my dealings are of a dif|ferent kind to those they describe.—My pro|vince

lies in forming conjunctions absurd and preposterous: It is I that couple boys and beldames, girls and greybeards, together; and when you see a man of fashion lock'd in legiti|mate wedlock with the stale leavings of half the fellows in town, or a lady of fortune setting out for Edinburgh in a post-chaise with her footman, you may always set it down as some of my handywork. But this is but an incon|siderable branch of my business.

Inv.

Indeed?

Devil.

The several arts of, the drama, dance|ing, musick, and painting, owe their existence to me: I am the father of fashions, the inventor of quints, trente, quarante, and hazard; the guardian of gamesters, the genius of gluttony, and the author, protector, and patron of licen|tiousness, lewdness, and luxury.

Inv.

Your department is large.

Devil.

One time or other I may give you a more minute account of these matters; at present we have not a moment to lose: Should my tyrant return, I must expert to be again cork'd up in a bottle.

Knocking.

And hark! it is the consul that knocks at the door; there|fore be quick! how can I serve you?

Inv.

You are no stranger, Sir, to our distress: Here, we are unprotected and friendless; could your art convey us to the place of our birth—

Devil.

To England?

Inv.

If you please.

Devil.

Without danger, and with great ex|pedition. Come to this window, and lay hold of my cloak.—I have often resided in England: At present, indeed, there are but few of our family there; every seventh year, we have a general dispensation for residence; for at that time the inhabitants themselves can play the devil without our aid or assistance.—Off we go! stick fast to your hold!

Thunder. Exeunt.