THE PLAGUE OF ENVY
(Enter CANKER and FOOTMAN)
Cank. Is not my Man come in yet?
Foot. No, Sir.
Cank. Pray will you oblige me by letting one of your Servants step to Covent Garden Playhouse to look for him.
Foot. I'll go myself, Sir; for I shan't be wanted 'till my Lady comes from the Play.(Exit)
Cank. Let me see (pulling out his Watch) 'tis now half an hour after Seven. By this time the Fate of the Suspicious Husband is determined; applauded to the Skies; or damned beyond Redemption; its Author crowned with Laurel, or covered with Shame. Sure they can't approve it! And yet the Stings I felt at the reading [of] it give me presaging Pangs of its Success. (Sighs deeply) It has its Beauties I must confess. Why should I thus grieve at a young Author's approaching Fame? His Throes and Pangs lest it should fail have been far short of mine lest it should succeed; nor would the Author's Joy for its kind Reception equal my secret Rapture at its irretrievable Disgrace. What is this that like a slow but infallible Poison corrodes my Vitals and destroys my Peace of Mind? Emulation? (Shakes his head and sighs) I am afraid the World will call it Envy. All Mankind has some, but Authors most; and we can better brook a Rival in our Love than in our Fame. What can detain this Rascal? I am upon the Rack to know how it goes on—let me see, in what Manner would I have it treated? In the first Act I would have them applaud it violently,—in the second and third be coldly attentive,—in the fourth begin to groan, horse laugh and whistle,—and in the fifth just before the Catastrophe, one and all cry aloud, off, off, off! The Epilogue! The Epilogue! O that would be delightful! Exquisite!
(Enter FOOTMAN)
So Sir! You Blockhead, how came you to stay so long? But first tell me how the Play was received; whereabouts did they begin to hiss?
Foot. Hiss! he, he, he, Lard, Zir, why they did not hiss at all.