The spoil'd child: A farce, in two acts, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane — Text and Context

e you, and so shall John too; aye, aye.——But I had forgot poor Poll—what did you roast the parrot for, you young dog?

_Little P._ Why, sir, I knew you and my aunt were both so fond of it, I thought you would like to see it well dress’d.

_Pick._ Ha!—ha!—ha!——

_Little P._ But dear aunt, I know you must be angry with me, and you think with reason.

_Miss P._ Don’t speak to me, I am not so weak as your father, whatever you may fancy.

_Little P._ But indeed, aunt, you must hear me, had I not loved you as I do, I should not have thus offended you, but it was merely my regard for your _character_.

[_Exit, PICKLE kicks him off._

_Little P._ My dear aunt, I always heard that no lady’s keep parrots or lap-dogs, ’till they can no longer keep lovers—and when at school, I told ’em you had a parrot, the boys all said, then you must be a foolish old maid.

_Miss P._ Indeed!—impudent young wretches.

_Little P._ Yes, aunt, and so I resolved you should no longer be thought so—for I think you are a great deal too young, and too handsome for an old maid. (_taking her hand_)

_Pick._ Come, sister, i’faith you must forgive him, no female heart can withstand that.

_Miss P._ Brother, you know I can forgive where I see occasion; but though these faults are thus excused, how will you answer to a charge of scandal and ill-nature.

_Little P._ Ill-nature, madam—I’m sure nobody can accuse me of that.

_Miss P._ How will you justify the report you spread, of my being locked up in my closet with Mr. Tagg, the author—can you defend so vile an attempt to injure my reputation?

_Pick._ What, that too, I suppose, was from your care of her character—and so to hinder your aunt from being an old maid, you locked her up in her closet with this author, as he is called.

_Little P._ Nay, indeed, dear madam, I beseech you—’twas no such thing, all I said was, you were amusing yourself in your closet with a favourite author.

_Miss P._ I amuse myself in my closet with a favourite author! worse and worse.

_Pick._ Sister have patience—hear——

_Miss P._ I am ashamed to see you support your boy in such insolence—I, indeed! who am scrupulous to a fault; but no longer will I remain subject to such impertinence, I quit your house, sir, and you shall quit all claim to my fortune—this moment will I alter my will, and leave my money to a stranger, sooner than to your family.

_Pick._ Her money to a stranger, leave her money to a stranger! Oh! the three per-cent. consols—oh, the India stock—go, child—fly, throw yourself at your aunt’s feet—say any thing to please her—I shall run distracted.—Oh! those _consols_——

_Little P._ I am gone, sir—shall I say she may die as soon as she pleases, but she must not give her money to a stranger.

_Pick._ Aye, aye, there’s a good boy, say any thing to please her, that will do very well—say she may die as soon as she pleases, but she must not leave her money to a stranger. (_Exit LITTLE P._) Sure never man was so tormented—well, I thought when my poor dear wife, Mrs. Pickle died, and left me a disconsolate widower, I stood some chance of being a happy man, but I know not how it is, I could bear the vexation of my wife’s bad temper better than this woman’s. All my married friends were as miserable as myself—but now—faith here she comes, and in a fine humour, no doubt.

_Miss P._ Brother, I have given directions for my immediate departure, and am now come to tell you, I will persist in my design, unless you this moment adopt the scheme I yesterday proposed for my nephew’s amendment.

_Pick._ Why, my dear sister you know there is nothing I would not readily do to satisfy and appease you, but to abandon my only child, to pretend that he is not mine—to receive a beggar brat into my arms—impossible——

_Miss P._ (_going_) Very well, sir, then I am gone.

_Pick._ But sister, stop—was ever man so used—how long is this scheme of yours to last? how long am I to be deprived of him?