A
K E Y
TO THE
New COMEDY, &c.

To Sir H. M.

My Friend,
You have sent me a long letter to persuade me to an undertaking I cannot think myself capable of executing; therefore, I must call it worse to me than an Egyptian bondage! My frequenting the Theatre (you say) I make my favourite amusement—I confess it—I think it a rational, instructive, and most pleasurable one, of all those this great city affords: Where can a man pass three hours of his idle time better? however, I never enter the house as a critick, and therefore find myself unequal to the task you have imposed upon me; yet notwithstanding, I will venture. But as you make use of this old sentence in your letter,

Ut clavis partam, sic pandit EpistolÆ pectum.

I shall divide (as parsons do their pulpit orations) my matter into three parts. First then I shall give you my own thoughts, which I believe concur with at least three parts of the audience. So I shall unlock (according to your motto) my breast, and tell you all I know or think concerning this affair.

2dly. I intend to let you know as much as I do; at least, all the persons that are satiriz'd in this merry drama.

3dly, And lastly, without the least favour, I shall discover according to my judgment, from whence they have borrowed, or bordered upon any likeness from any other dramatick piece within my knowledge.

Now as to the First article. The expectation of all lovers of the drama, were rais'd to the highest pitch, from the great reputation of the authors, (the Triumvir, as they were call'd) Pope, Gay, and Arbuthnot. I went to the Theatre the first night, but could not find the least room; every door that was opened to me, diffus'd more heat than a baker's oven, or the mouth of a glass-house. The next morning, I stroll'd to several coffee-houses, where I knew the wits and criticks met like surgeons, to dissect the body of any new piece; but I found more opinions among them, than there are sectaries in the world: So I resolv'd to venture a sweating the next evening, and be my own judge. When I came to the Theatre, I found it crowded as the night before, but fortunately got a seat in the boxes among some of my acquaintance.

Wilk's spoke the prologue with his usual vivacity and applause! but he had no sooner ended, and thrown the fool's cap on the stage,[D] but the storm began, and the criticks musick of cat-calls join'd in the chorus.—The play was acted like a ship tost in a tempest; yet notwithstanding, through those clouds of confusion and uproar, I, as one of the neutral powers, could discover a great many passages that gave me much satisfaction; and while the inimitable Oldfield was speaking the epilogue, (who performed the character of Mrs. Townley, the doctor's wife) the storm subsided—And to speak poetically, my friend—

The billows seem'd to slumber on the shore.

But when the play was given out for the third night, (tho' the benefit of the author was not mention'd) the roar burst out again, like sudden thunder from two meeting clouds; but I with pleasure observ'd, the roar of applause overcame and triumph'd.

I went the third night to the pit, where I saw the comedy perform'd to a numerous and polite audience with general applause! as for my own particular part, I was extremely delighted. Thus have I unlock'd my own sentiments concerning this three hours after marriage, and expos'd them naked before you. And so ends the first promised article of my Key—Now I shall proceed to the

Second, viz. The persons that are struck at in this drama (which has opened so many mouths against it) and the cause which drew the satirical lash upon them.

Poets, that are inspir'd by Apollo are so quickly fir'd, that the least touch sets them in a blaze. The Triumvir had been inform'd, that Dr. Fossile, or Dr. Woodward, which you please; (for Dr. Woodward they mean by Dr. Fossile) had very concisely affronted them all three in one speech, viz. Pope's essay on critiscism, was plundered from Vida—Gays pastoral lucubrations, were built upon Spencer, and Brown's Britania's-pastorals, published in the year 1613—and Arbuthnot could never be eminent in surgery, since he never study'd at Paris or Leyden; for in Scotland, he could learn nothing, but to cure the itch. So Fossile appears as the principal character in this ludicrous drama: He gain'd that title tis said, by asking a man digging in a gravel-pit—if he ever met with any Fossils? the man mistaking the Word, reply'd—no, nor Spiggot's master; for I believe this gravel-pit was never an ale-cellar yet. Thus have I given you all the intelligence I can, why Dr Woodward is Dr. Fossile in this comedy.

The other two physicians next in the dramatis personÆ, do not, I believe, mean any particular persons, only to satirize pretenders, and you know we have too many that kill without license.

Sir Tremendous is meant for that snarling, ill-natur'd critick, Dennis, who fell so critically upon Addison, with his billingsgate remarks on Cato! a growler, who never yet lik'd any child of fancy but his own! and I must declare, all of his offspring that I have seen, are as ill-shap'd, and as hard-favour'd as the parent that begot 'em: He swells like an invenom'd reptile, at any thing that gives pleasure to the rest of the world, while he only torments himself; therefore he has truly gain'd the true name of Heautontimerumenos.

The two extraordinary lovers, Plotwell, and Underplot; there are so many of their resemblance in this great town, that we may call them knights of the shires, who represent them all.

The two players by their different manner of speaking, by those whoever convers'd with them, might be easily found to mean Wilk's and Booth.

Now we have open'd our lock, and set to view all our men display'd in our three hours after marriage, I shall proceed to the women, which are but two pointed at in the drama, whatever may occur in the body of the play, which I shall refer to the last article of my discourse. (do not I my friend talk like your chaplain in the country! on the day between saturday and monday)?

Mrs. Townley, the heroine of our play, I am inform'd, does not suit the character of Fossile's real wife in the least; for tis said they cannot slander that poor woman with any other failing, than that thing so much out of fashion call'd virtue; which seems as ridiculous as if a woman of quality should come to court to a ball on a birth day, with a black-bever high-crown-hat on: But they say another eminent physician's wife sat for that picture; and the painters have done her justice in all but the catastrophe; for the poor man has her still, nor feels he yet any pain in the forehead; therefore shall be nameless, for I think it hard, a man's head should be laden, for the lightness of his wife's heels.

Phoebe Clinket; I am a little griev'd to say, reflects a little on a lady of your acquaintance, the Countess of W——sea, who is so much affected with that itch of versifying, that she has implements for writing, in every room in her house that she frequents. You and I know, Gay has many obligations to that lady, therefore, out of justice and good manners ought to have spar'd her. But poets provok'd, are as bad as hornets; they care not who they sting! and I think the motto to the thistle, (the arms of North-Britain) Nemo me impune lacessit, given by James V. of Scotland, is not an improper one for a poet—That unlucky lady was heard to say,—Gays trivia show'd he was more proper to walk before a chair, than to ride in one. This sarcasm was the cause, why the poor Countess is thrust among such a pack of motley figures on the stage. As Hamlet says by the players; "You had better have a poets good word, than a bad epitaph after your death." I must confess a poor revenge upon a woman; and a revenge of this kind on any of the soft sex, is below the dignity of man. I am of the poets opinion, who says—

"Too noble for revenge! which still we find
"The weakest frailty of a feeble mind;
"Ungenerous passion! and for man too base—

Thus my friend have I finish'd my 2d article, and proceed to the Third and last, which shall be to consider the play, and remark every passage that borders on any other in the dramatic way, but not with the ill-natur'd design of a critick.

The very first scene of the play, puts me in mind of the first entrance of Morose, with his epicÆne in Ben Johnson's silent woman; and several other scenes in this Three Hours after Marriage, convinces me the authors had that celebrated comedy often in view. But Fossile in his first speech where he says—

"I now proclaim a solemn suspension of arms between medicine and diseases; Be this day sacred to my love." Puts me strongly in mind of Jupiter's ending the first act of Dryden's amphytrion: and I doubt not, but the author had the same thought with me.

"Let human kind their sovereign's leisure wait,
"Love is this night my great affair of state:
"Let this one night on providence be void:
"All Jove for once, is on himself employ'd.

In the next page Mrs. Townley says—

Marriage, is not to be undertaken wantonly like brute beasts. Do you not think this following speech of Truwits to Morose upon his sudden marriage, was not the father of Mrs. Townley's speech.

"Wou'd you go to bed so soon? a man of your head and hair should owe more to the reverend ceremony, and not mount the marriage-bed like a town-bull, &c.

The messages from his patients, I like the least of any thing in the whole play, tho' it is a just satire on those people of rank, that dare not be well without the advice of their physician: Yet I am angry at the countess of Hippokekoana, who is no other than the good dutchess of M—n—th, who generally took an emetick once a week. This lady had the misfortune to break her thigh-bone by a fall, but her modesty was so great, she would not allow the surgeons to apply any remedy; but by their advice, women took their office upon them, but performed it so ill, that the poor lady must go lame to her tomb. The annual day, on which her illustrious husband lost his head, she fasts the four and twenty hours: a rare example of conjugal-love! But indeed something of this whole scene may be picked out of Moliere.

In the scene between Tremendous, Clinket and the Players; that critick talks in the usual stile of Dennis—But in this speech of—

There is not in all this sodom of ignorance, ten righteous criticks—The triumvir makes a little too free with the old testament.

Those letters that are given to the doctor in disguise of his footman, are something like several passages in Molier's Cecu imaginaire. That sign'd Wyburn, I believe I need not inform you, is the most noted bawd in London. The character of Lubomirski, may be found (at least something like it) in Lopez de Vega; but his water of virginity, you may find something very like that in a play call'd the Changeling, written by Middleton and Rowley in conjunction, printed 1653.

Their Mummy may be found in a little piece in the Theatre Italien, call'd the mummies of Egypt; and I believe the Nile furnish'd the Crocodile.

I begin to be tir'd my friend, and, therefore let me tell you, Mrs. Townley proving no wife to Fossile, may put you in mind of Ben Johnson's silent woman, and Congreve's old batchelor.

But what of all this! who would search for what I have done, but such a compliant puppy as myself, to please one who does not care what trouble I take; but for taking hints from the French, Spanish, or any of our own celebrated authors, especially if they are improved upon, as in justice these are. I will not esteem a crime—How many whole plays have we translated from the celebrated Moliere, that every winter gives pleasure to a British audience? I shall never ask my cook of what ingredients my dishes are compos'd, so my viands are wholsome and well relish'd: And this Three Hours after Marriage, in my opinion, had not the satire been pointed at particular people, might have furnis'd out a repast for many winters Theatric nights.

A LETTER, &c.

To the Publisher.

SIR,
I Desire you will publish this short account I send you, if you think fit, since it cannot more properly be tacked to any other work—It is wrote by a person who is still alive, and tho' a woman, intimate with the poets of this century, and consequently with most of the theatrical persons worthy notice; therefore I have sent you a careful copy from the original, by the gentleman's consent it was wrote to.
A LETTER, giving an Account of the Origin of the Quarrel between Cibber, Pope, and Gay.

SIR,
You tell me, it is matter of great surprize to you, that Pope like a vicious horse, has so often flung out at the Laureat, whose apology for his life and comedies you so much admire. Women, depend on it, Sir Thomas, keep up a little vanity, even in the decline of life, as well as you men; and you will certainly think so, when I tell you I can unravel all the true reasons, and sources of that affair.—I have often informed you, my intimacy with Mrs. Oldfield brought me the freedom of the theatre, as well at rehearsals in the morning, as the use of her box at night. I accompany'd her almost every morning to the Three Hours after Marriage. This comedy was the source of that bitterness, and keen-cutting satire that Pope expresses against Cibber in all his writings. At the rehearsal of this piece, no two could express more amity; and the former was often heard to say, with his other two associates, Arbuthnot and Gay: "Cibber, in teaching the comedians their parts, had struck out infinitely more humour than they themselves conceiv'd, or even meant; and I heard Gay say"—

"We dug the oar, but he refin'd the gold."

Which was plainly owning, they all three had a hand in mixing the ingredients for this theatric pudding.

We shall give the first appearance of Pope's resentment, in Mr. Cibber's own words, in his letter to Pope; and then relate another passage the laureat has omitted.

"The play of the Rehearsal, which had lain some few years dormant, being by his present majesty (then Prince of Wales) commanded to be reviv'd, the part of Bayes fell to my share. To this character, there always had been allow'd such ludicrous liberties of observation, upon any thing new or remarkable in the state of the stage, as Mr. Bayes should think proper to take. Much about this time the Three Hours after Marriage had been acted, which Mr. Baye's as usual had a fling at, which in itself as no jest, unless the audience would please to make it one. In this play, two coxcombs being in love with a virtuoso's wife; to get unsuspected access to her, ingenuously sent themselves as two presented rarities to the husband, the one swath'd up like an Egyptian Mummy, and the other sllyly cover'd in the paste board skin of a Crocodile: Upon which poetical expedient, Mr. Bayes, when the two kings of Brentford came down from the clouds into the throne again; instead of what my part directed me to say, I made use of these words, viz. Now Sir, this revolution, I had some thoughts of introducing by a quite different contrivance; but my design taking air, some of your sharp wits I found, had made use of it before me; otherwise, I intended to have stolen one of them in, in the shape of a mummy, and the other, in that of a crocodile. The audience by their roar of applause, show'd their approbation: But why am I answerable for that? I did not lead them by any reflection of my own. But this it seems was so heinously taken by Mr. Pope, that in the swellings of his heart after the play was over, he came behind the scenes with his lips pale, and voice trembling, to call me to account for the insult, and, accordingly fell upon me with all the foul language, that a wit out of his senses, could be capable of—How durst I have the impudence to treat any gentlemen in that manner? &c., &c., &c. Now let the reader judge by this concern, who was the true mother of the child—When he was almost choak'd with the foam of his passion, I was enough recovered to make him (as near as I can remember) this reply—viz. Mr. Pope, you are so particular a man, that I must be asham'd to return your language as I ought to do; but since you have attacked me in so monstrous a manner, this you may depend upon, that as long as the play continues to be acted, I will never fail to repeat the same words over and over again. Now, as he accordingly found I kept my word for several nights following, I am afraid he has since thought, that his pen was a sharper weapon than his tongue, to trust his revenge with; and, however just cause this may be for his doing so; it is, at least, the only cause my conscience can charge me with.

So far has Mr. Cibber thought fit to relate of this affair, and no farther, which is strictly true: But the laureat in this account of the first failing of Mr. Popes friendship, makes no mention of what pass'd between him and Mr. Gay, the fourth evening, after his sparring with Mr. Pope: Perhaps, the death of Gay prevail'd on him to be silent, or perhaps, that author, never having publickly attack'd him, might be his motive for not mentioning the affair.

Thus it was, Mr Pope's frail form not being cut out for a hero, spirited up Mr. Gay, as a party concerned in the suppos'd affront; and accordingly, the fourth night, after Pope's ill success, Gay, like a valiant champion, came behind the scenes to attack Bayes at the head of his new rais'd forces: A dangerous undertaking, since, he might have seen, if rage had not blinded him, several horse, rang'd on each side the field of battle, ready for the riders to mount, at the first call of the trumpet—most of the forces were in their tents, waiting the word of command. But Bayes, the general, already prepar'd, was gone from his pavilion, and reconnoitring the numerous spectators—that is without a metaphor: Cibber with his glove rais'd up to his eyes, (his usual custom) was observing the audience about half an hour after five o'clock (the play beginning in drury-lane axactly at six) when Gay accosted him. We shall wave the short dialogue; but only observe that great poets are as well vers'd in the vulgar language, as well as the sublime, and perhaps, in their anger show as little politeness, as those educated in the boarding school of billing's-gate. But at last Gays passion grew ungovernable; he with his arm rais'd high, was going to discharge a ponderous blow upon Baye's, but a stander by disarmed him, and prevented the ignominious blow. They then seiz'd each other, grappled hard, and a cuff or two were exchang'd on both sides—Gay having the advantage of youth, and strength, threw Bayes down, yet he bravely drag'd his foe down with him in his fall: But the affair growing a little too serious, the combatants were parted, without bloodshed, save that Bayes got a small scratch upon the nose, which the piece of wet brown paper, (a property of his part) decently conceal'd from the spectators. It is certain, one of those that endeavoured to part them, got a most severe broken shin from one of them; so that we may be assur'd they kick'd as well as cuff'd. However this combat did not last so long as it takes up in the relation. Bayes's wig went once more under the correction of the barber, and the play began at the stated time. We cannot call this by the pompous name of Battle, but simply skirmishing; but as Gay was obliged to quit the field, Bayes may in some sort be termed victor; however, he triumph'd with his mummy and crocodile that night, but dropt it afterwards, the jest growing stale. Mr. Pope's apparition to Mr. Cibber on this occasion was known to very few, but this of Mr. Gay was the common town and table-talk for some time, kept up by the grub-street wits that made many a hearty meal upon it, ('till something more in season threw it out of the bill of fare.) It is manifest, this truffing beginning put an end to Pope's friendship for Cibber if he realy had any; and the continuance of his enmity, for near thirty years, is no mark of humanity. It is accounted unmanly and mean, to give a person repeated strokes, when he has not spirit enough to resent the first; and yet that excellent poet, had so much bitterness in his sweet wit, (if we may be allowed to say so,) that to many it palls the taste. The reader in this supplement, will not find Cibber's name once mentioned: The reason is apparent; he had not done any thing to provoke; but since the year of the three Hours after Marriage, (1717) he has a dart at him in almost every thing he publishes—In his epistle to doctor Arbuthnot he plainly says—(mentioning a play he was desired to recommend to the stage)

There (thank my stars) my whole commission ends,
Cibber and I, are luckily no friends.

And yet it is well known, Mr. Cibber never made the least return, till his letter to Pope 1742, and then, he declar'd to many of his friends, he did it, because he had no other business on his hands, and that he might not be forgot before he was dead. Of all the foibles Mr. Cibber might be guilty of, those that are conversant with him, know malice, envy or slander, are not in the composition.

When a person informed him, Pope was no more; he seem'd much concern'd, and reply'd, I am griev'd for the loss of so great a man; I was never his enemy, and for those spots he seem'd to dash on me, his admirable wit made me overlook them all—and I am convinced, he sometimes wrote against the sentiments of his heart. Nay we are informed, Pope was heard to say in his last sickness—

"My satires against Cibber, are not my last repented faults."

But we are not willing to part with this Three Hours after Marriage, without relating an odd accident, that happened the 4th night of that play; it may be called a scene of distress, in a pantomime that befell an unlucky lover; for it was all in dumb show: We are sure, it created more vociferous mirth in the spectators, than any other passage of wit or satire; and the enemies to the Triumvir, declared it was the best thing in the whole piece. Had Hogarth been present (as he might have been) his inimitable pencil would, have stronger ideas, of the comic distress, than any description can do: But, perhaps, contemplating the scene may strengthen the readers imagination.

Cibber, was the mummy, curiously wrapt and folded with proper bandages, painted with false Egyptian Hieroglyphics, but however false the heraldry, his arms were at liberty. The droll facetious Penkethman, was that amphibious devourer, the crocodile, where the painter, the tailor, with other artificers had us'd their utmost skill: The monster's two foremost legs, were fitted to his arms, and Penky's legs, serv'd for those of the monster. He made a formidable figure as he crawl'd in, with his great head, and long tail; for, tho' he was ordered to be carry'd as a stuff'd monster, he would creep, as crocodiles should do on dry land: When he stood upright, his face peep'd from the belly of the monster; form'd monstrously to charm indeed! The case that brought in the mummy-lover, was plac'd in the center of the stage behind, and the door, or, open part, stood facing the audience upright—While they were employ'd in their courtship, displaying their charms as lovers; Penkethman, the crocodile, boasting much in the beauty of his long tail, and, traversing the stage, unfortunately made such a parade with it, that he threw down Sarsnet (the attendant and confidant of Mrs. Townley) flat upon her back, where she discovered more linnen than other habitiments, and, more skin and flesh than linnen, this began the first uproar in the audience. The persons of the drama upon the stage, strove to screen the accident as much as they could, and the crocodile, Penkethman, (whose face was a farce) rising from giving his assistance to the fallen maid; unluckilly, his back encountered the case for the mummy, which stood upright, openmouth'd, to receive him, that case and crocodile fell backward with such violent noise, that the body of the crocodile lay intirely inhum'd in the case of the mummy, all absorb'd but the head and tail of the monster; and the rapidity of the fall, had so forcibly jamm'd all that appertain'd to Pinky's fair form, that all the strength and skill of twenty people running to the assistance of the monster, could not disengage him, till Pallas in the likeness of hammers, saws, chissels, and other implements in the hands of those that knew their use, releas'd him. This scene took more than half an hour in the action; with what roar of applause the reader must form in his own Imagination. Many of the audience the next night, made an interruption of some minutes, to have the scene repeated, which so much allarmed poor Sarsnet, that she run off the stage extremely frighted, which provok'd a peal of laughter from the spectators.

You see sir, it is some danger, to give a woman room to talk; but I'll make an end with Bromias's last speech in the second act of Amphytrion, viz.

"The tongue is the last moving thing about a woman.