The devil to pay, or, The wives metamorphosed : a comic opera in two acts / by Charles Coffey ; revised by Colley Cibber.

  • Charles Coffey
Date:
[1837?]
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: The devil to pay, or, The wives metamorphosed : a comic opera in two acts / by Charles Coffey ; revised by Colley Cibber. Source: Wellcome Collection.

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    Lmhf'L: You, Lettlce, you slut I [Striking her.~\ W<3Tf*t yotF'kffGw me, neitter ? Let. Help ! help t- Sir J. What’s to do there ? But. Why, sir, here’s a mad woman calls herself my lady, and is beating and cuffing us all round. Sir J. [To Lady Loverule.] Thou my wife! — Poor creature, I pity thee ! I never saw thee before. Enter Nell, r. Lady L. [To Sir John.'] Then it is in vain to expect redress from thee, thou wicked contriver of all my misery ! Nell. [Aside.] How am I amazed! Can that be I, there, in my clothes, that have made all this disturbance ? And yet I am here, to my thinking, in these fine clothes. How can this be ? I am so confounded and affrighted, that 1 begin to wish I was with Zekiel Jobson again. Lady L. To whom shall I apply myself, or whither can I fiy ? [Turning, and seeing Nell.] Heavens! what do I see ? Is not that myself yonder, in-the—gown and petti¬ coat I wore yesterday ? How can it be ? I cannot be in two places at once ! Sir J. Poor wretch ! she’s stark mad. Lady L. What, in tlxe devil’s mrfflfc, was-T-before I caret; here ? ’ Let me look in the glass. [Going to a mirror.] Oh, Heavens 1 I am astonished ! I don’t know myself L— If this be I that the glass shows me, I never saw myself before. Sir J. What incoherent madness is tiffs’? L. Lady L. There, that’s the devil in my likeness, wire has rubbed me of my countenance ! Is here, tea ! on iu iilaf Aye, hussy ! and here’s my strap, you quean ! Nell. [Aside,.'] Oh, dear ! I’m afraid my husband will beat me, that am on t’other side the room there ! |-Tn f, j hope your honours will pardon her: she was drinking with a conjurer last night, and has been mad ever since, calling herself my Lady Loverule. Sir J. Poor woman ! take care of her ; do not hurt her ; she may be cured of this. Yes; and, please your worship, you shall see me cure her presently. [To Lady Loverule, showing his strap.] Hussy, do you see this ? Nell. Oh, pray, Zekiel, don’t beat me !
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