We shall now exhibit the head of An Old Maid. [Takes the head.] This is called antiquated virginity; it is a period when elderly unmarried ladies are supposed to be bearing apes about in leading-strings, as a punishment, because, when those elderly unmarried ladies were young and beautiful, they made monkies of mankind. Old maids are supposed to be ill-natured and crabbed, as wine kept too long on the lees will turn to vinegar.
Not to be partial to either sex [takes the head up], as a companion to the Old Maid, here is the head of An Old Bachelor. These old bachelors are mere bullies; they are perpetually abusing matrimony, without ever daring to accept of the challenge. When they are in company they are ever exclaiming against hen-pecked husbands, saying, if they were married, their wives should never go any where without asking their lords and masters' leave; and if they were married, the children should never cry, nor the servants commit a fault: they'd set the house to rights; they would do every thing. But the lion-like talkers abroad are mere baa-lambs at home, being generally dupes and slaves to some termagant mistress, against whose imperiousness they dare not open their lips, but are frightened even if she frowns. Old bachelors, in this, resemble your pretenders to atheism, who make a mock in public of what in private they tremble at and fall down to. When they become superannuated, they set up for suitors, they ogle through spectacles, and sing love songs to ladies with catarrhs by way of symphonies, and they address a young lady with, "Come, my dear, I'll put on my spectacles and pin your handkerchief for you; I'll sing you a love song; 'How can you, lovely Nancy!'" &c. [Laughs aloud.] How droll to hear the dotards aping youth, And talk of love's delights without a tooth! [Gives the head off.]
It is something odd that ladies shall have their charms all abroad in this manner [takes the head], and the very next moment this shall come souse over their heads, like an extinguisher. [Pulls the calash over.] This is a hood in high taste at the upper end of the town; and this [takes the head] a hood in high taste at the lower end of the town. Not more different are these two heads in their dresses than they are in their manner of conversation: this makes use of a delicate dialect, it being thought polite pronunciation to say instead of cannot, ca'ant; must not ma'ant; shall not, sha'ant, This clipping of letters would be extremely detrimental to the current coin of conversation, did not these good dames make ample amends by adding supernumerary syllables when they talk of break-fastes, and toastesses, and running their heads against the postasses to avoid the wild beastesses. These female orators, brought up at the bar of Billingsgate, have a peculiar way of expressing themselves, which, however indelicate it may seem to more civilized ears, is exactly conformable to the way of ancient oratory. The difference between ancient and modern oratory consists in saying something or nothing to the purpose. Some people talk without saying any thing; some people don't care what they say; some married men would be glad to have nothing to say to their wives; and some husbands would be full as glad if their wives had not any thing to say to them. [ Gives the head off.] Ancient oratory is the gift of just persuasion; modern oratory the knack of putting words, not things, together; for speech-makers now are estimated, not by the merit, but by the length of their harangues; they are minuted as we do galloping horses, and their goodness rated according as they hold out against time. For example, a gentleman lately coming into a coffee-house, and expressing himself highly pleased with some debates which he had just then heard, one of his acquaintance begged the favour that he would tell the company what the debates were about.
"About, Sir!—Yes, Sir.—About!—what were they debating about? Why they were about five hours long." "But what did they say, Sir?" "What did they say, Sir? Why one man said every thing; he was up two hours, three quarters, nineteen seconds, and five eighths, by my watch, which is the best stop-watch in England; so, if I don't know what he said, who should? for I had my eye upon my watch all the time he was speaking." "Which side was he of?" "Why he was of my side, I stood close by him all the time."
Here are the busts of two ancient laughing and crying Philosophers, or orators. [Takes the two heads up.] These in their life-time were heads, of two powerful factions, called the Groaners and the Grinners. (Holds one head in each hand.) This Don Dismal's faction, is a representation of that discontented part of mankind who are always railing at the times, and the world, and the people of the world: This is a good-natured fellow, that made the best of every thing: and this Don Dismal would attack his brother—"Oh, brother! brother! brother! what will this world come to?" "The same place it set out from this day twelve-month." "When will the nation's debt be paid off?" "Will you pass your word for it?" "These are very slippery times—very slippery times." "They are always so in frosty weather." "What's become of our liberty?—Where shall we find liberty?" "In Ireland, to be sure." "I can't bear to see such times." "Shut your eyes then." [ Gives the heads off.]
It may seem strange to those spectators [takes the head] who are unacquainted with the reasons that induce ladies to appear in such caricatures, how that delicate sex can walk under the weight of such enormous head-coverings; but what will not English hearts endure for the good of their country? And it's all for the good of their country the ladies wear such appearances; for, while mankind are such enemies to Old England as to run wool to France, our ladies, by making use of wool as part of their head-dresses [lets down the tail and takes out the wool], keep it at home, and encourage the woollen manufactory. [Takes off the head.]