He is the first comedian who rode an ass upon the stage. He acted the mountebank, Waltho Van Clutterbank, High German, chemical, wonder-working doctor and dentifricator, and spoke his famous “Horse-doctor's harangue” to the mob. He challenged a celebrated quack called “The Unborn Doctor,” at the town of Hertford, on a market-day, to have a trial of skill with him. Being both mounted on the public stage, and surrounded by a numerous auditory eager to hear this learned dispute, Joe desired that each might stand upon a joint stool. “Gentlemen,” said Joe, “I thank you for your good company, and hope soon to prove how grossly you have been deceived by this arch-impostor. I come hither neither to get a name, nor an estate: the first, by many miraculous cures performed in Italy, Spain, Holland, France, and England, per totum terrarium, orbem, has long been established. As to the latter, those Emperors, Kings, and foreign potentates, whom I have snatched from the gaping jaws of death, whose image I have the honour to wear (showing several medals), have sufficiently rewarded me. Besides, I am the seventh son of a seventh son; so were my father and grandfather. To convince you, therefore, that what I affirm is truth, I prognosticate some heavy judgment will fall on the head of that impudent quack. May the charlatan tumble ingloriously, while the true doctor remains unhurt!” At which words, Haynes's Merry-Andrew, who was underneath the stage, with a cord fast to B———'s stool, just as B-was going to stutter out a reply, pulled the stool from under him, and down he came; which, passing for a miracle, Joe was borne home to his lodging in triumph, and B———hooted out of the town. *
Some of Doctor Haynes's miraculous mock cures, were the Duchess of Boromolpho of a cramp in her tongue; the Count de Rodomontado of a bilious passion, after a surfeit of buttered parsnips; and Duke Philorix of a dropsy—of which he died! He invites his patients to the “Sign of the Prancers,” in vico vulgo dicto, Rattlecliffero, something south-east of Templum Danicum in the Square of Profound-Close, not far from “Titter-Tatter Fair!” He was a good-looking fellow, of singular accomplishments, and in great request among the ladies. “With the agreeableness of my mien, ** the gaiety of my conversation, and the gallantry of my dancing, I charmed the fair sex wherever I came.
* “The Life of the late Famous Comedian, Jo. Hayns.
Containing his comical exploits and adventures, both at home
and abroad. London. Printed for J. Nutt, near Stationer's-
Hall, 1701.”
** “The Reasons of Mr. Joseph Hains, the Player's,
Conversion and Reconversion. Being the Third and Last Part to
the Dialogue of Mr. Bays. London: Printed for Richard
Baldwin, near the Black Bull in the Old Baily, 1690.” This
tract is intended as a skit upon Dryden, whose easy
“conversion and reconversion” are satirised in a very
laughable manner. In 1689, Haynes spoke his “Recantation
Prologue upon his first appearance on the stage after his
return from Rome,” in the character of a theatrical
penitent!
John Davies ridicules the coxcombs of his day, that it
engrossed the whole of their meal-times in talk of plays,
and censuring of players.
“As good play as work for nought, some say,
But players get much good by nought but play.”
'Signor Giusippe,'” (he was now Count Haynes!) “says one, 'when will you help me to string my lute? Signor Giusippe,' says another, 'shall we see you at night in the grotto behind the Duke's palace?' 'Signor Giusippe,' says a third, 'when will you teach me the last new song you made for the Prince of Tuscany?' and so, i' faith they Giusipped me, till I had sworn at least to a dozen assignations.”
His waggery was amusing to all who were not the butts of it. He once kept a merchant that had a laced-band which reached from shoulder to shoulder, two good hours in a coffee-house near the Exchange, while he explained the meaning of chevaux de frize; telling him there were horses in Frize-land that were bullet-proof! At another time he parleyed with a grocer a full quarter of an hour in the street, inquiring which was the near est way from Fleet Street to the Sun Tavern in Piccadilly; whether down the Strand, and so by Charing Cross; or through Lincoln's Inn Fields and Covent-Garden? though the simpleton declared his spouse sent him post-haste for a doctor, and—for all that Joe knew—made him lose an heir-apparent to “some dozen pounds of raisins, as many silver apostle spoons, Stow's London, and Speed's Chronicle.”
His astonished father-confessor, while listening to his sham catalogue of frightful enormities, looked as death-like as a frolicsome party of indigo porters in a dark cellar, by the melancholy light of burnt brandy! “For,” said the penitent wag, “last Wednesday I stole a consecrated bell from one of St. Anthony's holy pigs, and coined it into copper farthings! Such a day I pinned a fox's tail on a monk's cowl; and passing by an old gentlewoman sitting in her elbow-chair by the door, reading 'The Spiritual Carduus-posset for a Sinner's Belly-Ache,” (this, saving our noble comedian's presence, is more after the fashion of Rabbi Busy, than Friar Peter!) “I abstracted her spectacles from off her venerable purple nose, and converted them to the profane use of lighting my tobacco by the sunshine.”
“Hark!” said Mr. Bosky, as a voice of cock-crowing cacchination sounded under his window, “there is my St. Bartlemy-tide chorister. For twenty years has Nestor Nightingale proclaimed the joyous anniversary with a new song.” And having thrown up the sash, he threw down his accustomed gratuity, and was rewarded with
THE INQUISITIVE FARMER, OR HARLEQUIN HANGMAN.=
Harlequin, taking a journey to Bath,
Put up at an inn with his dagger of lath.