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Full text of "The British Drama: A Collection of the Most Esteemed Tragedies, Comedies ..."

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BRITISH DRAMA: 



A COLLEPTION OP THE MOOT- ESTEEMED 



TRAGEDIES, COMEDIES, OPERAS, AND FARCES 



ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 



VOLUME I. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
J. B. LIPPINOOTT A 0. 

M. POLOCK, 4116 COMMERCE ST. 
1859. 



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INDEX 



FIRST VOLUME. 



Ardbn of Feversham 4, 

Barbaroasa t, 

Cato, 

Douglas r r ^ 

Fatal Cur os ty /y* t? cJ-i, O 
George Barnwell -^W -J-f/ 
GuslausVasa^ j/j^B'/tUja 
IsabeOa J'oOt IT ^ -. 219 
Jane Shore ^a'^ &K*-C TT 
Oroonoko ?^ «^^ Kk v 667 
Percy X^i? / ^ (f 617 

The Fair Penitent, v^- / 
The Camesler O '^ '■ 
The G ecian Daughter '^ 
The Mo n ngBnde^^'-^^ ^' 
The Orphan 



C ^116 



; 



■^709 



The Revenge "■ 



Simspiin: 

VenKie Preserved, 
6 
OOKtEDZES 

A Bold Stroke for a Wife, . . 



A New Way to Pay Old Debts, 



She Stoops to Conquer, 

The Beaux'fStralagem, .... "J 

The Belle's StratagBm, . ... . I 

The Country Girl, *-,. ... , . e 



The Inco^tanl, __ 170 

The Jealous Wife, . ' . . . . C30 
The Man of the Worid, ,., t . 4» 

The Rivals . ^ 348 

The SiispiciouH,Husband, ... 488 
TheWondCT, .,.;.<... 868 

Ways and Means. 93 

FJUUCBB, 
Bon Ton, ... w' ... . 414 
Fortupe's Frolic, . ... 318 

The Apprentice, ..... 69 

The Deuce is in Him, . . '' .369 
The Deiil to ^^j, i ^ . 108 

The Irish Widow, 605 



C-iOoglc 



The Lying Valet ^ ^ ... . 
The MayoTj-of Garratt, ^y . .^. 
The Mock Doctor- ^ , ,. ^ . . . 
Three Weela after Marriag^, 



Midas, . ,, ." . .„. . . .148 



Blfo. 7 



The Crkie, , . .'..£.. .554 
The Doctor and tha Apothecary, . 468 
The Padlock, ...,.,,,. 321 

Tom Thumb, .-,,.... 611 



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FATAL CURIOSITY: 



A TBAeSDY, 



BY GEORGE LILLO. 



of Wnea and heros 



ought on pri- 
toinmoii and 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



OldWilhot, Mr. KtmNe 

TOUNQ WiLUOT, Mr. Barrymote.. 

EUSTACB, Mr. Truman.... 

RiMDAL Mr.CKcrOiU!... 



..Mra. SiMam Afisa Sherrv. 

..Mri. Powell Jtfrj, BuHefej 

..Miu Leake Msa HmAe. 



ScBJti. — Penryn, Comwail. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I.—A Room in Oi.d Wilmot's House. 

Enter Old Wiluot. 

O. WS,. The day is far advanc'rJi the cheerful 

Pursues with vigour his repeatsil coUTBe ; 
N"o labour leasens, nor no time decays 
His strength or splendour ; evermore the Barae 
From age to a^ hie influence suataina 
Dependeiit worlds, bestows both life and motiij 
On ths dull mass that forms their dusky orbs, 
Cheers them inth heat, and gilds them w 

Tet man, of Jarring elements compos'il, 
Who posts Mom change to change, from the & 

Of iiis frail being till Ms dissolution, 



Enjoys the sad ptei'ogatii'e above him, 
To Ihiiik, and to be wretched.— What is life, 
To him that's born to die ! or what that wisdom. 
Whose perfection ends' in knowing we know 

nothing I 
Mefa conlradiction all ! a tragic farce, 
Tedious though short, and without art elab'ratd. 

Ridiculously sad 

Enter Randal, 
Where bast been, Randall 
Ran. Not out of Penryn, Sir; but to the strand, 



To hear what 



s from Falmouth s 



Of wind last night. 
O. Wa. It was a dreadful one. 
Ran. Some found it ao, A noble ship ft 



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FATAL CURIOSITY. 



tAO 



EiitMng in the harbour, ran apon a roclt, 
Jtnd there was lost 

O, Wii. What 'came of those on board heel 

Son. Some few are eav'd ; but much the 
greater part, 
'Tis thought, are perished, 

O. Wil. They are past the fear 
Of future tempests or a wreck on shore ; 
Those who escap'd are still enpoa'd lo both, 
Where'sjour mistress? 

Ran. I saw her pass the High-street, towards 
the Minster. 

O Wil. She's gone to '''^^ Charlotte— She 
doth weir 
In the soft bosom of that gentle maid, 
There dwells more goodness than the rigid race 
Of moral pedants e'er beUev'd or taught. 
With what aniaang lonstancy and truth 
Doth she sustain the absence of our son, . _. 
Whom more than life she loves ! How shun for 

Whom we shall n. 
Who own her d 

happy. 
Since our misfortunes, .we ha™ fimnd no ftiend, 
None who regarded our distress, but her ; 
And she, by what I have observ'd of late, 
la tir'd, or eshauat*d — curs'd condition! 
To live a burden to one only friend, 
And blast her youth with our contagious woe I 
Wlio ^ttt had reason, soul, or sense, would bear it 
A moment longer I— Then, this honest wretch !— 
I must dismiss him— Why should I detain 
A grateful, gen'rous youth to perish with me? 
His service may procure him Bread elsewhere. 
Though I have none to give him. Pr'ythee 

Randal 
How long hast thou been with me 1 



ow long h 

San. m,- . — - 

wna n very child when first you took me, 

upon your son. my dear yoona master I 



To ..... , 

1 oft have wish'd I'l 

Though ya, deaaindinB, give tiim o'er tor lost 

I am to blame.— 'This talt revives your sorrow 

For his absence. 

O. WU. ThatcaimotboreviVd, 
Which never died, 

Ron. The whole of my intent 
Was to confess your bounty, that supplied 
The loss of both my parents: I was Jong 
The object of your cdarilable care. 

O. Wil. Wo more of that.— Thou'st serv'd t 

Without reward ; so that account is balanc'd. 
Or, rather I'm thy debtor, 1 remember, 
When poverty began to show her face 
Within these walls, and all my other servants, 
" "';e pamper'd vermin ffbm a fidUn^ house, 



Par such ungrateful wretches, to be crush'c! 
Beneath the ruin they had hclp'd to mate. 
That you, m ■■ "— — "" '■^■"^ "• 



id than wise, reHised to le 

Ran. Nay, I beseech you. Sir '. — 

O, Wil. With my distress, 
In perfect contradiction to the world, 
Thy love respect, and diligence increased ; 
Now all the recompense within my power, 
Is lo discharge thee, Randal, fivin my hard. 
Unprofitable service. 

«an. Heaven forbid ! 



Shall I forsake you in your worst necesaty 1 
Believe me. Sir, my honest soul abhors 
The barb'rous thought. 

O. Wil. What ! canst thou feed on air ' 
I have have not left wherewith to purchase food 
For one meal more. 

.Bon. Rather than Ifave you thus, 
I'll beg my bread and live on others' bounty 
While I. serve jou. 

O. Wil. Down, down my sweUing heart, 
Or burst in silence : 'tis thy cruel fate 
Insolts thee by Ms kindness. He is innocent 
Of all the pain it gives thee. Go thy ways, 
[ vrill no more suppress thy youthful hopes 
Of riangin tiie world. 
, .pan. T'is true; I'm young. 
And never tried my fortune, or my eenius ; 
Which may, perhaps, find out some happy means 
As yet unthonght of, to supply your wants. 

O. Wil. Thou tortur'st me— I hate all obliga 

Which I can ne'er return. And who art thou. 
That I should stoop to take 'em from thy hand 1 
Care for thyself, buttake no. thought forme; 
I vrill not want thee — trouble me no more, 

San. Be not offended. Sir, and I wiU go; 
I ne'er repin'd at your commands before ; , 
But, heaven's mj witness, I obey yon now 
With strong reluctance and a heavy heart. 
Farewell, my worthy master ! [ Going 

O. Wil, Parewell— Stay- 
As thou art yet a stranger lo the world, 
Of which, alas I I've had too much experience, 
I should, methinka, before we part, bestow 
A httle counsel on thee. Dry thy eyes— 
If thou weep'st thus, I shall proceed no ferther. 
Dost thou aspire to greatness, or to wealth, 
Uuit books and the unprofitable search 
Of wisdom there, and study human kind; 
No science will avail thee without that ; 
But, Uiat obtain'd, thou need'al not any other. 
This will instruct thee to conceal thy views, 
And wear the face' of probity and honour, 
'Till thou hast gain'd thy end ; which must be 

Thy own advantage, at that man's eipense 
Who shall be weak enough to think thee honest 
flan. You mock me, sure. 

flan. Why should you counsel what yoa 

scom'd lo practised 
O, Wil. Because that foolish scorn has been 

I've been an idiot, but would have thee wiser. 
And treat mankind, as they would treat thee, 
Banda! ; 
s They deserve, and I've been treated by 'em, 
Thou'st seen, by me, and those who now despis* 

How men of fortune fell, and beggars rise ; 
Shun my eiample ; treasure up my precepts ; . 
The world's before thee— be a knave and prosper. 
What, art thou dumb 1 [After a Umg pavae. 

Lmazemenl ties my tongue. 
Where are your former principles 1 



nc'd 'e 



I have m 



Suppose I have _ ... . 

And love thee still ; therefore would h 

think. 

The world is all a scene of deep decwt. 
And he mho deals vrith mankind on the square, 
" ■ ■ ( own bubble, and undoes himself [Exit 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



BII.] 



FATAL CURIOSITY. 



n I thought eo wise enJ 



Ran. Is this the 

What ! teach iUid counsel me to be a vUkin 1 
Sure grief has majie him frantic, or some fiend 
ABBumed his shape — I shall suspict my BCnses. 
High-minded h£ was ever, and uupiondent ; 
But pitiful and generous to a &u1t : 
Pleosute he lov5, but honour was Mb idoL 
O, fetal change I O, horriil trsnsfoiniaUon! 
So a majiistic temple, sunk lo ruin, 
Becomes the loatbsome eheitei and abode 
Of lurking serpents, toads, and beasts of prey; 
And scalj drngons hiss, and lions roar, 
Where wisdom taught, and music, charmed be 
fore. [Exit 

SCENE Jl—A ParlmiT in ChahlOT T b's House 
Knter Ch:1Hlotte and Mabij. 

Char. What larror and omaiement most the) 
Who die by shipwreck 1 [fee 

Moo: 'Tlsadreadful thought! 

Char. Ay ; is it not, Maria % to descend, 
LiTing and conscious, to that watery tomb \ 
Alas Miad we no sorrows of out own. 
The fteiiUBnt instances of others' woe 
Must give a gen'rons mind a world of pain. 
But you forget you promised mc to sing. 
Though cheerfulness and I have long Been stran 



Harmomc 
There's si 
But finds 
These 



still delightful to me. 
I passion in the human sout, 
Id in music — I would hear 
~ by that unhappy maid. 



s sounds 



Whose iaithful lover 'scap'd a thousand perils 
From rocks, and sands, and the devouring deep: 
And t^r all, being arrived at homo, 
Passing a narrow brook, was drowned there. 
And peiished in her sight. 

Mai. Cease, cease, heart-easing tears ; 
Adiew, you, fiulfTing fears. 
Which se^n long tedious years 

Taught me to beaT. 
Teara are for lighter woes ; 
Fear, no such danger knoJBS, 
As Fate remoTsdess shaas. 

Endless despair. 
Dear couse of all my pain. 
On Ike wide stormy main. 
Thou least preserved in vain, 

Thovgh stUl ador'd ; 
Bidsl thmt died there unseen. 
Sty wounded eyes had been 
Sav'dfrom the direst scene 

Maide'er dephr'd. 
[Chahlotte finds a letter, 
aioT. What's this'— A letter, 



MonB could convey it here but you, Maria : 
tTngen'rons, cruel m^ ! to nsc me thus! 
To join with flatt'ring men to break my peace, 
And persecute me to the last retreat ! 

Mar. Why should it break your peaca, to heo 
the ragbs 
Of honourflile h 
Char. No ma 
opened. 
J have no love, no charms, but for my Wilmot, 
Nor would have any. 
Mar. Alas I Wilmot's dead ] 
"iff. dead to you. 



Or, tivins. dead to you. 
Char. I'll not despaij^ 



Patience shall chensh hope, nor wronff his honoul 

By unjust suspicion. 1 know his truth, 

And will presei'vB my own. But to prevent 

All future, vun, officious importunity, 

Know, thou incrasant foe of my repose. 

Whether he sleeps, secure from mortal cares, 

In the deep bosom of the boist'rous mmn, 

Or, tossed witk tempests, still endures its rage, 

No second choice shall violate my vows ; 

High heaven, which heard them, and abhors tha. 

peijured. 
Can witness, they were made wUhout icaerve ; 
Never to be retracted, ne'er dissolved 
By accidents or absence, time or death. 

Mar. And did your vows oblige you to support 
His haughty parents, to your utter ruin 1 
Well may you weep to think on what jou'v« 

Char. I weep to tkiidc that 1 can do no more 
For their support. What vrill become of "am— 
The hoKiy, helpless, miserable pair ! 

Mar. What I can't praise, you force me ta 

And mourn for you, as you lament for them. 
Your patience, constancy, and resignation. 
Merit a better fete. 

Char. So pride would tell me, 
And vain self-love ; but I believe them not: 
And if, by vtanting pleasure, I have ganed 
Humility, I'm richer for my loss. 

Mar. You have the heavenly art, still to im- 

Your mind by all events. But here cornea one. 
Whose pride seems to increase with her misfar- 
Her feded dress, unfeshionably fine, [tune*. 

As ill conceals her poverty, as that 
Strained complaisance her haughty, swelling 

Thoagh perishing with want, so &r fi^>m askinir. 
She ne'er receives a favour uncompelled ; 
And while she ruins, scorns to bo obliged; 
Let me depart, I know she loves me not. 

[E^il Maki.. 

Enter Aones. 

Oiar. This visit 's kind, 

Agn. Few else would think it so t 
Those who would once have thought themselves 

much honoured 
By the least favour, though 'twere but a look, 
1 could have shown them, now refuse to see me. 
'Tis misery enough to be reduced 
To the low level of the common herd. 
Who, bom 10 begg'iy, envy all above them ; 
But 'tis the curse of curses, to endnre 
The insolent contempt of those we scorn. 

Char. By scorning, we provoke them to con- 
tempt; 
And thus oifend, and aufier in' our turns : 
We must have patience. 

Agn, No, I Bcom them yet. 



Tired with our woes, and hopeless of rehe^ 

Grows sick of life. 

And, urged by indignation and despair, 

Would plunge into eternity at once. 

By foul self-murder. 

Oiar. Gracious heaven, support him ! 

Agn. His fiied loue for me, 
Whom be would &in persuade to share his fate. 



h,l^,OOgLC 



FATAL CURIOSITY. 



And take tbe same, uncerlsin, dreadful 
Alone withholds his hand. 

Char. And may k ever ! , 

Agr-,. I've known with him the two eitremea 
of Ufe, 



Of such 3. vast tratisition. Saab a iail 

In the decline of life! I have as quick, 

Ab exquisite, a sense of pain as he, 

And would do any tlung, but die, to end it ; 

But there my courage ImU. Death is the wor 

That &te can bring, and cuts oft ev'ry hope. 



LT lot 



otchiiose but et 






Without reproach or guiit : but by one alt 

Of desperMion we may overthrow 

The merit we've been raising all our days ; 

And lose our whole reward. And now, incthinks. 

Now more iJian ever, we have cause lo feat, 

And ba upon our guard. The hand of heaven 

Spreoda clouds on clouds o'er our benighted heads, 

And, wrap|i'd in darkness, doubles our distress. 

I had, the night last past, repeated twice, 

A strange and awful dream: I would not yield 

To fcariul superstition, nor despise 

The admonition of a friendly power 

That wish'd my good. 

WtUiout the help of dreams to make me wretched. 
Char. I would not slakB my happiness or duty 
On thdr uncertain credit, nor on aught 
But reason, and the known decrees of heaven. 
Yet dreams have sometimes shown events to 



Mrv 

fNow 

To mark each ni 

Lest we attempt to eitricate ourselves, 

And seek dellveianee by forbidden ways ; 

To keep our hope and innocence entire, 

' dismiss'd to join the happy dead 



Orh. 






1. Well to your dream. 
CSor. Methought I sat, in a dark winter's 

On the wide summit of a barren mountain ; 
The sharp bieak nrinds pierc'd through my 
sbiu'ring frame, 
IS of hail, and sleet, and driving 

On one hand ever gentle Palienca sate. 
On whose calm bosom 1 reclin'd my head; 
And on the other silent Contemplation. 
At length to my unclos'd and watchful eyes. 
That long had roll'd in darkness, dawn appear'd ; 
And I beheld a man, an utter stranger. 
But of a graceful and exalted mien. 
Who press'd with eager transport to embrace me. 
I shann'd his arms. But at some words he spoke. 
Which I have now forgot, 1 turn'd agiun. 
But he was gone. And oh I transporting si 
Your son, my dearest WiluioE, M'u his piac 

Agn. If I regarded dreams, i shouki eipect 
Bomo fiiir event from yours. 

Char. But what's to come. 
Though more obscure, is terrible indeed 
Methought, we parted soon, and when ■ sought 



ting sight ! 



You and his father — (yes, you both ware there) — 
Strove to conceal him from me ; I pursued you 
Both with my cries, and call'd on heaven and earth 
To judge my wrongs, and force you to reveal 
Where you had hid my love, my life, my Wi^ 



'Tis just as likely Wilmot should return. 
As we become your foes. 

Otor. Far be such rudeness 
Prom Charlotte's thoughts ; but when I heard yon 



.dflTt. You will persist I — 

Char. Excuse me ; I have done. Bdng a 

I thought, indeed, it could not give oflence 

Agn. You could not think so, had you thoaghl 

But 1 take nolhiog ill from thee. Adieu ; 

I've tarried longer than I first intended, 

Ai^ my poor husband mourns the while alone. 



The least appearance ol 

Sets her impatient temper in a name. 

When grief, that well might humble, swells odt 

And pride increaang, aggravates our grief, 
The tempest must prevau 'till we are W. 
Heaven grant a fairer issue to her sorrows I 

[ExU. 

SCENE III— The Town and Part ^ Pemyn 



Wil, Welcome, my friend ! to Panryn : hen 

East. Then we're deUver'd t*ice; first from 
the sea, 
And then from savage men, who, more remoisa- 

lesE, 
Prey on shipwrecked wretches, and spoil and 

muiijer those 
Wliom &tal tempests and devouring waves, 
In all their fury, spar'd. 
Wil. It is a scandal, 
Though malice must acquit the better sort. 
The rude unpnlish'd people here in Cornwall 
Have long lam under,and with too much jusfiee: 
For 'tis an evil, grown almost invet'rate, 
And asks a bolifand skilful hand lo cure. 
Euet. Your treasure's sate, I hope. 
mi. 'Tis here, thank heaven •. 
Being in jewels, when I saw our danger, 
I hid it in my bosom. 

Bust. I observed you ; 
And wonder how you could command yow 

thoughts. 
In such a time of terror and confusbn. 

Wil, My thoughts were then at home— O En- 
gland 1 England I 
Thou seat of plenty, liberty, and health 
With transport I behold thy verdant fields, 
Thy lofty mountains lich with useful ore, 
Thy numerous herds, thy flocks, and windtng 



iioiBdD, Google 



FATAL CURIOSITY. 



Yet, after having ^iaw'd id 
Toal 






-You Bznilo, m 



re than 



And fondly apprehend what none e'er foun 
Or ever ghsll, pleasure and pain unnux'd ; 
And flatter and torment ourselves by tuniSj 
With what shall never be. 
Wil. I'll gi " " " 



Why,beitsc. _ , 

E'en in the wisest men, and may souituimai 
Be much the better guide. But, be it either, 
1 must confess, that e^en death ilsdf 
Appear'd to me with twice its native horrors, 
When apprehended in a foreen lani). 
Death is, no doubt, in ev'ry place the same : 
Yet nature cast a look towaras homo, and moat, 
Who have it in dieit power, choose to eijare 
Where they first drew their breath. 

EuBt. Befleve mo, Wihnot, 
Your grave refleetions were not what I smiled at ; 
I own the truth. That we're returned to Eng- 

Aflbrds me all the pleasure you can feel. 

Yet I must think a warmer pasaion moves you ; 

Thinking of that, I snul'd, 

WU. O Eustace I Eustace I 
Thou know'st, for I've confess'd to theo, I love ; 
But, having never seen the charming maid. 
Thou canst not know the fierceness of my flame. 
Mt hopes and fears, like the tempestuous seas 
That WB liave oast, now mount me to the skies, 
Now hurl me down from that BtupendouB height. 
And drive me to the centre. Didyoa know 
How much depends on this important hour. 
You would not be surprised to see me thus. 
The sinking fortune oSoiu aniaent bouse 
Compell'd me, young, lo leave my native country, 
JJy weemng parents, and my lovely Chariotte ; 
Who ruTd, and must for ever rule my fate. 
1 should my Charbtte, doubtful of my truth. 
Or in despair ever to see me laoro, 
Have given herself to some more happy lover !— 
Distraction's in the thought!— Or should my 

Griev'd for my absence and oppresaed with wan 
Have sunk beneath Ihdr burden, and expir'd, 
While I, too late, was flying to relieve them ; 
The end of all my long and weary travels, 
The hope that made success iiselfa blesang, 
Brang defeated, and tor ever lost. 
What were the riches of the world to me 1 

East. The vrretch who fears all that is pO! 
«ble, 
MuBt suffer more than he who feels the worst 
A man can feel, who Uves exempt from fear. 
A woman may be felse, and Mends are mortal 
And yet your aged parents may be living, 
Ami your feir nuatress constant. 

WU. True, they may ; 
I doubt, but I despair not— No, my ftiend! 
My hopes are strong, and lively as my fears; 
They tell me, Charlotte is as true as feir, 
That we abajl meet, never to jact agtdn ; 
That I shall see my prents, kiss the tears 
Prom their pale hollow cJieeks, cheer their sad 

And drive that garing phantom, meaEre want, 
For ever from their board ; crown all their days 
To come, with peace, with [deasure and abun- 

aecrive their tond embraces and their blesanga. 
And be a blessing to them. 

Husl. 'Tis our weakness : 

Blind lo events, we reason in the dark. 

Vol. I B 



Tos. 



yfale. 






that foreign habit i 

Wil. That's a trifle, 
Not worth my thoughts. 

Bust The hard^ips you've endur'd. 
And your long stay beneath the burning zone, 

nTT. eternal sultry summer reigns, 

d the native hue of your compleiioo ; 
Metjjinks, you look more like a sun-burnt Indian 
Than a Bnton. 

Wa. WeU, lis no matter, Eustace ! 
I hope my mind's not altered for the w 
Anil for my outside — But inform m 
"^hen I nMV hope to see you. 

Bust. Wlien you please: 
You'll find me at the inn. 

Wil. When I have leam'd my doom, eipectma 

TiU then fere well ! 
Eiitl. Farewell ! success attend you ! [Exevnl. 

ACT II. 

SCENE /—Charlotte's House. 
Charlotte enters, in thought ; and, soon after, 

Serv. Madam, a stranger in a foreign habil 
Deares to see you. 

Char. In a foreign habit— 
'Tis strange and unexpecfed— But admit him. 

Who can this stranger be ? I know no foreigner. 

WiLMOT en/erj. 



[Going to embraiie her. 
Char. Sir, you are too bold— forbear and kt 

What bus'nasa brought yon here ; or leave tb* 

WU. Perfidious midii '. am I forgot or scom'd '! 
Char. Can I forgot a man I never knew 1 
WU. My fears are true : some other has hra 

She's lost— My fetal absence has undone me. 

[Aside. 
O ! could thy Wilmot have forgot thee, Clmrlotte' 

Char. Ha I Wilmot I say ! what do your words 
■ import ■! 
Ogentle stranger 1 ease my swelling heart : 
W^t dost thou know of Wilmotl 

Wil. This I know. 
Wlien at] the winds of heaven seem'd to consi™ 
Against the slormy main, and dreadful peals 
of rattling thunder deafened ev'ry ear, 
Aiiddrown'd lb' affiighlen'd mariners' loud cries; 
When livid lightning spread its sulphurous flames 
Through al! the dark boriain, and disekis'd 
The ragmg seas incens'd to bis destruction ; 
When the good ship in which he was embark'd 
Briite, and, rferwhelra'd by the impetuous surg», 
Suii to the oozy bottom of the deep, 



, Google 



FATAL CURIOSITY. 



When his strength fail'il, and every hope forsook 

And his last breath press'd towards bis trembling 

Tiie neighbouring rocliB, tliat eoho'd to his moan, 
Betiirn'd no sound articulate, but — Ohai^otte. 
Char. The fatal tempest, whose descripOi 

The hearer with astoniahment, is oeBs'd; 
And Wilmot is at rest. The fiercer storm 
Of swelling passion chat o'ernhehns the soul, 
And rages worse than the mad foanung seas 
In whiiSi he perish'J, ne'er shall ^ei hun more. 
Wii. Thou seem'st to think lie's dead ; enjoy 
that thought ; 
Persuade yourself, that what yon wish is tri , 
And triumph in your falsehood, — Yea, he's d^d; 
You were nb fate. The cruel winds and waves. 
That cast him pale and breathlesB on the shore, 
Spar'd him lor greater woes — To know his Char- 
lotte, 
Forgetting all her vows to him and heaven, 
Had cast him from her thoughts — then, then he 

But never must have rest. E'en now he wanders, 

A sad, repining, discontented ghost. 

The unsubslan^al shadow of himself. 

And pours his pldntive groans in thy deaf ears. 

And stalks, unseen, before thee. 

Char. 'Tis enough 

Detested blsehood now has done its worst. 

And art thou deadl And would 'st thou die, 

my Wilmot I 
For one thou thought'st unjust t — thou soul of 



What n 



truth! 



le done 1 — Which way shall I e 



Thy dear departed simt of the love, 
Th' eternal love, and nevcr-faiUng faith, 
Of thy much injur'd, lost, despainng Charlotte 1 
H^. Be still, my nutt'ring heart ; hope not toe 

Perhaps I dream, and this is all illusion. 

Char. If, as some teach, the spirit afler death. 
Free from the bonds and ^s of sordid earth. 
Can trace us to our most conceat'd retreat, 
See all we act, and read our vgit thoughts ; 
To thee, O Wilmot ! kneeling, 1 appeal : — 
If e'er 1 swerv'd in action, word, or thought. 
Or ever wished to taste a joy on earth 
That centred not in thee since last we parted, — 
May we ne'er meet again, hi^ thy loud wrongs 
So close the ear of mercy lo m^ cries, 
That 1 may never see those bright abodes 
Where truth and virtue only have admi^ion, 
And thou inhahit'st now ! 

WU. Assist me, Heaven I 
Preserve my reason, memory, and sense I 
O moderate my fierce tumultuous joys, 
Or thar excess will drive "" '" '-' — '^— 



imaia unshaken, and support its truth. 
And yet thy frailer memory retain 
No image, no idna, of thy lover t 
Why dort thou ga;* so wildly 1 look on me : 
Turn thy dear eyes this way; observe me well. 
Have scorching climates, tune, and this strange 

habit, 
So cbang'd and so disguis'd thy IMthful Wilmot, 
That nothing in my voice, my fiice, or mien. 



Remains, lo tell my Charlotte I am he *? 

[After viewing him sometime, ehe appraoehet 

weeping, and gives him her hand ; and 

ihsn, luming towards him, sinks upon 

kit bosom. 
Why dost thou weepl why doat thou tremble 

thuBt 
Why doth thy panting heait and caatioua touch 
Speak thee but half convinc'd "i whence are thy 

Why art then silent '( canst thon doubt me still 1 

Chair. No, Wilmot! no; I'm blind with loo 
much light ; 
O'ercome with wonder, and oppress'd with joy ; 
This vast profusion of extreme delight, 
Rising at once, and bursting from despair. 
Defies the aid of words, and mocks description j 
But for one sorrow, one sad scene of anguish, 
That checks the swelling torrent of myjoya, 
I could not bear the transport. 

fm. Let me know it: 
Give me my portton of thy sorrow, Charlotte I 
Let me partake Ihy grief, or bear it for thee. 

Char. Alas! my^lTilmot! the sad tears are 
thine; 
They flow for thy misfortunes. I am piere'd 
With all the agonies of strong compassion, 
With all the bitter anguish you must feel. 
When you shall hear your parents 

Wa. Are no more. 

Char. You apprehend me wrong, 

Wil. Perhaps 1 do. 
Perhaps yon mean to say, the g: 






e with ground- 

Yonr parents both are hving. Their distress, 

Tlie poverty to which they arc reduc'd, 

'" spite of my weak aid, was what I mourn'd; 

id thai in helpless age, to them whose youth 

as crowned with fuil prosperity, I iear, 

irorse, much worse, than death. 

Wil. My joy's complete ! 

My parents hving, and possessed of thee I 

From this bless'd hour, the happiest of my liib, 

I'll date my rest. My aniious hopes and fears. 

My weary travels, and my dangers past. 

Are now rewarded all : now I rejoice 

In my success, and count my riches gain. 

For know, my soul's best treasure I I have 

wealth 
Enough to glut e'en avarice itself: 
"o more shall cruel want, or proud contempt, 
ppresB the sinking spirits, or insult 
he hoary heads of those, who Kive me being. 
Char. Tis now, O riches, I conceive yonr 

. Du are not base, nor can you be superfluous, 
But when misplaced in base and sordid bands. 
Fly, fly, my Wilmot! leave thy happy Charlotte' 
Thy filial piety, the sighs and tears 
Of thy lamenting parents, call thee hence. 

WU. I have R friend, the partner of my voyage, 
''ho in the storm last night, was shipwreck'd 

Chair. Shipwreck'd last night I Oyouimmor- 

What have you suiTered t How were you pn*- 



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IL] 



FATAL CURIOSFry. 



WH. Let that, and all m}' other strange escapee 
And perilous adventures, be the theme 
Of many a happy winter night to come. 
My present purpose was t'intreat my angel, 
To know this fhend, this ather better Wilmot ; 
And wme with him this evening to my &Uier's : 
I'll send him to.thee. 

Char. 1 consent with pleasure; .-. , 
Wil. Heavens! what a night ! How ahall I. 
bear mj joy 1 
My parents, yours, my fiionds, all vrill be ni 
If soch the eerly hopea, the vernal bloom, 
The distant prospect of my future bliss, . 
Then what the ruddy autumn 1— What (he fruit, 
The full posses^n of Ihy heavenly charms t 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE II— A Street in Peni-yn. 
Enter Rjndal. 
flan. Poor ! poor [ and friendless ! whither 
shall I wander, 
And to what point direct my views and hopes 1 
A menial servant [ — No — What ! shall I live, 
Here in this land of freedom, live distinguish'd, 
And mark'd the vnlling slave of some proud 

subject, 
To swell his useless train tor broken fragments ; 
The cold remains of his superfluous board i 
I would aspire to something more and better. 
;Tum Ihj ej^s then lo the prolific oceany 
Whose spacious bosom opens lo thy view : 
There deathless honour, and unenvied wealthy 
Have often crown'd the brave adventurer's toils. 
This is the native uncontested right, 
The fitir inheritance of ev'ry Briton 
That dares put in his claim. My choice is made : 
A long &rewell to Cornwall, and to England. 
ITI return — But stay, what stranger's this, 
Who, as he views me, seems to mend his pace 1 
Enter WilMOt. 
Wil. Randal ! The dear companion of my 

Sure lavish fortune means to Mve me all 
I could desire or ask for,. this btess'd day. 
And leave me nothing to expect hereailer. 

Ran. Your pardon. Sir! I know hut one on 
Could properiy salute me by the titlo [earth 

You're ploBsod to give me, and I would not tiiiuk 
That yoa are he— That you are Wihnol— 

WU. Why! 

Ran. Because I could not bear the disappoint- 

Shonld I be deceiv'd. 

WU, I am pleased to hear it : 
Thy friendly tears better express thy thoughts 
Than words could do. 

Ran. 1 Wllmot ! 1 my mastra' I . 
Are you returned 1 

WU. I have not embrar'd 
My parents — I shall see you a* my lather's. 

Ban.. No; I'm discl^rged from thence — O. 
Sir! such ruin. 

WU. I've heard it all, andhastentorelievc 'em, 
Sure heaven hetit blessed me to that very end : 
I've wealth enough ; nor shalt thou want a part. 

Ran. 1 have a part already. I am bless'd 
In your success, and share in all your jeys. 

WU. I doubt it not But, tell me, dost thou 
think, 
My parents not suspecting my return. 
That I may visit them, and not be known? 



Ran. 'Tis hard for me to judge. You are 
already 
Grown so familiar to me, that I wonder 
I knew you not at first ; yet it may be ; 
For youre much alter'd, and they think you dead. 

Hd This tacertam, Charlotte beheldmelong, 
And heard my loud reproaches and complaints, 
Without remerabenug she had ever teen me 
My mmd at ease grows wanton I would lain 
Refine on happmeas Why may I not 
Indulge my curiosity, and try 
If it te possible by seeing first 
My parents as a stinger, to improve 
Their pleasure by surprise ^ 

Ran It may ind«ed 
Enhance your own, to see from what despair 
Your tamely coming and unhop d success 
Have pven you power to raise them 

WU. I remember, 
E'er since we learned Mgelhcr, you excetl'd 
In writing lurly, and could imitate 
Whatever hand you saw, with groat esactness. 
I therefore beg you'll write, in Charlotte's name 
And character, a letter to my father, 
And recommend me as a friend of hers 
To his acquaintance. 

flan. Sir, if you deare it — 
And yet 

Wil. Nay, no obieclions— 'Twill save time. 
Most precious with me now. For the deceptioE, 
If doing what my Charlotte vrill approve, 
'Cause done for mc, end vrith a ^oiid intent, 
Deserves the nair.e. 111 answer it myself 
If this succeeds, 1 purpose to defer 
Discov'ring who I am 'tilt CharbUe comes. 
And thou, and all who love me. Ev'ry fiiend 
Who witneeses my happiness to night, 
Will, by partaking, midtiply my joys. 

Ran, You grow luiurious in imagination. 
Couid I deny you aught, I wouU not write 
This letter. To saj trui, I ever thought 
Your boundless curiosity a weakness. 

WU. What canst thou blame in this 1 
Ran. Your pardon, Sir! 
Perhaps 1 spoke loo freely ; 
"'m ready to obey your orders. 

WU, 1 am mucfi thy debtor ; 
But I shall finds time to quit thy kindncaa.. 
O Randal ! but imagms to thyself 
The floods of transport, the sincere delight 
That all my friends will feel, when I d^ose . 
To my astonished parents, my return ; 
And then confess that I have well contriv'd 
By giving others joy, to eialt my own. 

SCENE m—A Room in Oe,d Wilmot's 

OtD WiLMOT and Aqnes. 
O. Wil. Hera, take this Seneca, this haughlj 
pedant 
Who, governing the master of mankind. 
And awing power imperial, prates of— patience ; 
And i^raises poverty — possess'd of milhons ; 
SeU him, and buy us bread. The scantiest meal 
The vilest copy of his book e'er purchas'd, 
WUI give us more relief in this distress, 
Than all his boasted precepts. Nay, no tears ; 
Keep them to move compassion when you bi-g. 
Agn. My heart may break, but never stoop te 
that. . . 



,/ Google 



FATAL CURIOSITY. 



> stranger 



Where must 1 charge thb length of misery, 

That gathers force each moment as it rolls, 

And must at last o'erwhelm me, but on hope : 

Vam, flattering, delusive, groundless hope, 

That has for years deceiv'd f Had I thought 

As I do now, aa wise men ever think, 

When first this hell of povertj" o'ertoob me. 

That power to die unphes a nght to do it. 

And euould be used when life, becomes a pain, 

What plagues had I prevented I True, my wife 

Ib still B slave to prejudice and fear. 

I would not leave my better part, the dear [ Weept. 

Faithful companion of my I^ppier days, 

To bear the weiirhC of age and want alone. — 

nit,,on«moS. 

Enter Aonbs, and after her YouNO Wilmot. 

O. Wil. Return'd, my life I 

Agn. The unespccted com 
Prevents my gmng yet. 

H^, You're, I presume. 
The gentleman to whom this is directed, 

[Gluts a letter. 
What wild neglect, the token of despair. 
What indigence, what misery, appears 
In this once happy house ! What discontent, 
What anguish and confusion till the faces 
Of its dejected owners! [Aside. 

O. Wii. Sir, such welcome 
As this poor house affords, you may command. 
Our ever friendlj; nriohbour — once we hoped 
T' have called fair Charlotto by a dearer name — 
But we have done with hope— I pray excuse 
This incoherence — We had oncoa son. [Weejis, 

Agn, That you are come from the dear vir- 

Revivea in us the mem 
Which though long si: 

Wil. The joy to see them, and the bitter pain 
It is Co see them thus, touches my soul 
With tenderness aiid grief, that will o'etflow. 
They know me not, — and yet, I fear, I shall 
Defeat my purpose, and betray myaeif [Aside. 

O. Wit. The lady calls you, here, her valued 

Enough, though nothing more should be implied, 



To 






But she, perhaps, hath purpoa'd to enrich 
You with herself, and end her fruitless sorrow 
For one whom death alone can justify 
For leaving her so long. If it be so. 
May you repair his loss, and be to Charlotte 
A second, happier Wilmot! Partial nature, 
Who only favours youth, as feeble age 
Were not her offipring, or below her care, 
Has sealed oar doom : no second hope shall spring 
To dry our tears, and dissipate deapfur. 

Agn. The lost and most abandoned of om 

By heaven and earth neglected, or despised ! 
Tne loathsome grave that robb'd us of our son, 
And all our joys in him, must he our refuge. 

Wil. Irft ghosts unpardon'd, or devoted fiends 
fear without hope, and wail in such sad str^na; 
But grace defenil the living from despair. 



The darkest hours precede the riaing son ; 
And meicy may appear when least expected 

O. Wil. Tm I have heanl a thousand tiniH 
repeated. 
And have, beUeving, been as ofi decdv'd. 

WU. Behold in me an instance of its troth. 
At sea twice ahipwreck'd, and as ott the prey 
Of lawlesa pirates ; by the Arabs thrice 
Surpris'd and robb'd on shore ; and once radnc'd 
To worse than these, the sum of all distress 
Tliat the most wretched feel on this side hell, 

slavery itself: yet here 1 stand, 
Except one trouble that will quickly end, 
The nappieat of mankind. 

O. Wa. A rare esample 
Of fortune's changes ; apter to surprise 
Or entertain, than comfort or instruct. 
If yon would reason from events, be just. 
And count, when you escap'd, how many perish'd j 
And draw your inference thence. 

' 'li, Alas 1 who knows, 
SB were render'd childless bj some storm. 
In which you, though preaerv'd, might heara parti 

"U. How has my curiosity betraj'd me 
Into superfluous pain ! I &int with fondness; 
And sba.il, if I stay longer, rush upon them. 
Proclaim myself their son, kiss and embrao* 

Till theu; souls, transported with the eicess 

Of pleasure and surpose, quit their frailmansioni. 

And leave them breathless in my longing arms. 

By circumstances then, and slow degrees. 

They must lie let into a happiness 

Too great for them to bear at once, and live: 

That Charlotte will perfbpn; I need not fdgn 

sk an hour for rest, , [jlsttfc.J Sir, i entreat 
The ftvour to rettte, where, fm a while, 
1 may repose myself. You will excuse 
Thia freedom, and the trouble that I give you : 
'Tis long anco I have slept, and nature calls, 

O. Wa. I pray, no more ; believe we're only 
troubled, 
That you ahould think any eicuae were needful 

Wil. The weight of this is some incumbranCBj 
[ Takes a cos^f oat of his bosom, and giv» 
il to hii mother. 
And its contents of value ; if you please 
To take the charge of it, 'till I awake, 
I shall not rest the worse. If I should sleep 
'Till 1 am ask'd for, as perhaps I may, 
I beg that you would wake me, 

Agn. Doubt it not: 
Distracted as I am with various woes. 
I shall remember that, [Ertf, with O. Wlk. 

Wit. Merdless grief 1 
What ravage has it made ! how has it chang'd 
Her lovely form and mind 1 1 feel her anguish, 
And dread, I know not what, from her despair. 

My father loo O grant them patience 

Heaven! 
A httle longer, a few short hours more. 
And alt their cares, and mine, shall end for ever, 
[ExU. 

ACT III. 
SCENE I.— 7^ same. 
Agngs eitterB aloiie^iuitk the casket in her hand. 
Agn, Who should this stranger bo I And then 
this casket — 
He says it is of value, and yet trusts it, 
As if a trifle to a stranger's hand— 



r,i^.oogle 



eLj 



FATAL CURIOSITY. 



Hie lonlidence amazes me — Perhaps 

It !s Itot what he says— I'm atFongty tempted 

To open il and see — No, let it rest. 

Why should my curiosity eicite me 

To searcli and prr into tit' afSaia of others, 

Who have, t'eniploj my thoughts, so many cares 

And sorrows of my own f — With how much ease 

The spring gives way !— Surprising ! 

My eyes are dazzled, and my ravish'd lieart 

Leaps St the glorious ught — How bright 'b the 

How immense tlie worth of these fiiir jewels 1 
Ay, such a treasure would expel Cor ever 
Base poverty, and all its abject train ; 
Famine ; the eM neglect of friends ; 
The galnng scorn or more prosoking pity 
Of an inanlting world — Possesa'd of these. 
Plenty, content, and power might take theirturn, 
And lofly pride itare its aspiring head 
At our approach, and once more bend boSire us. — 
A plessina dream ! 'Tis past ; and now 1 wake. 
For sure it was a hanoiness to think. 
Though but a mo 
Nay,^it was r™ 

touched 
The bright tempta^on, and 
'Tis here — 'Os mine — t have it in (>osse»sion- 
Must 1 re«gn it 1 Must I give it back 1 
And I, in love with misery and want, 
To rob myself, and court so vast a loss 1 — 
Retain it (hen— But how ?— There is a way- 
Why sinks my heart 1 Why does my blood 

coldf 
Why am I thrill'd with horror 1 — 'Tie not chi 
But dire necessity, suggests the thought. 
Enter Oi-D WiLMOT. 
O. WiL The mind contented, vrith how little 

The wand'ring eensex yield to soft repose. 
And die to gam new life 1 He's fellen asleep 
Already, happy man ! — What dost thou thinl 
My Agnes, oi our unexpected guest 1 

;o me a youth of great humanity : 
-'-■"-' 8, that.- ' ■ 



than thought— I i 



re be clos'd m 






; and — dost thou 



What art thou gazing on 7 — Fie, 'tis not well — 
This cadiet was delivered to yuu closed : 
Why have you open'd HI Should this be known. 
How mean must we appear 1 

Agt-,. And who shall know it t 

O. WiL There is a kind of pride, a decent 
dignity. 
Due to ourselves; which, s^le of our mislor- 



Pursue no farther this detested theme : 
I will not die, I wUl not leave the worid 
For all that you can urge, until compell'd. 

O. fVa. To chase a shadow, when the setting 

b darting his Inst rays, were ju^ as wise. 

As your aniiety for fleeting Ufe, 

Nov/ the last means for its support are fellini! : 



Were femine not as mortal as the sword, 

Your warmth might oe eitus'd — But take thy 

chfuce; 
Die how you will, VMi shall not die aloiw. 

Agn, Nor live, I hops, 

O. WU. There is no fear of that. 

Agn. Then, we'll live both. 

O.Wil. Strange folly I where tho means 1 

Agn. There those jewels — 

O. Wil. Ah!— Take heed I— 
Perhaps thou dost but try me ; yet lake heed — 
Theren nought bo monstrous but the mind of 

In some conditions may be brought t'approve; 
Thell, sacrilege, treason, and parricide. 
When flatfring opportuiuty entic'd, 
And desperation drove, have been committed 
By those who once would start to hear them 

Agrt. And add ta these detested suicide, 
Which, by a crime much less, we may avoid. 

O. Wil. The inhospitable murder of ourguest I — 
How could'st thou form a thought so very damn- 
So advantageous, so secure, and easy ; 
And ye* so cruel, and so fijll of horror 1 

Agn. 'Tis less impiety, less against nature. 
To lake another's hfe than end our own. 

O. Wil. No matter which, the less or greater 

Howe'er we may deceive ourselves or others, 
We act lium inclination, not by rule. 
Or none could act amiss.— And tliat all err. 
None bat the conscious hypocrite denies. 
O '. what is man, his excellence and strength, 
When in an hour of trial and desertion. 
Reason, his noblest power, may be subom'd 
To plead the cause of vile assassination. 
Agn, You're loo severe: reason may justly 

For our own preservation. 

O. Wil. Rest contented : 
Whate'er resistance I may seem to make, 
I am betray'd within : my will 's seduc'd, 
And my whole soul infected. The dewre 
Of life returns, and brings wUh it a train 
Of appetites, that r^e to be supplied. 
Whoever stands to parley with temptation, 
Parleys to be o'ercome. 

Agn. Then nought remains, 
But the swift enecution of a deed 
That is not to be thought on or delay'd. 

O. Wil. Generous, unhappy man! O! what 

To put thy life and fortune in the hands 
"^f wretches mad with anguish. 

Agn. By what means 

hall we effect his death 1 
O. Wil. Why, what a fiend !— 

low cruel, how remorseless, and impatienl, ' 

iave pride and poverty made thee 1 i 

Agn, Barbarous man ! 
Whose wasteful riots ruin'd our estates. 
And drove our son, ere the fiist down had spread 
His rosy cheeks, s{Mte of my sad presages, 
Earnest entreaties, agonies, and tears, 
To seek his bread 'mongst strangers, and to pcrisn 
In some remote, inhospitable land — 
The toveliest youth, in person and in mind. 
That ever crown'il a groaning mother's pains! 
Where was thy pity, whore Uiy patience then, 
Thon cruel hualrand 1 thou unnat'ral fether I 



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14 



FATAL CURIOSITY. 



Thou most T^moTsel^s, most ungrateful man 1 
To waste my fortune, rob me of my aon ; 
To drive me to despair, and then reproach me 
For bang what thou'at made me, 

O. Wu. Dry thy tears : 
I aught not to leproRch thea. I confess 
That thou hast suffec'd much: so have we Lioth, 
But chide no more ; I'm vreought up lo thy purpose. 
The poor, ill-fsted, uuBUspecling victim, 
Ere be reclin'd him on tlie &tal couch, 
From which he's ne'er to rise, took off the sash 
And costly da^er that thou saw'st him wear ; 
And thus, unthinhing, furnish'd us with arms 
Against himself. Steal to the door. 
And bring me word, if lie be stil! asleep. 

iExil AoNES, 
imself 
Theihappeat of mankind.' Deiuded wretch ! 
Thy thoughts are perishing, thy yovithflil joys, 
ToQch'd bythe icy hand ofgnBh^ death. 
Are with'ring in thea bloom. But, thought ex- 

' Hnguish'd, 
He'll never know the loss, nor feel the bitter 
Pangs of disajip<rintment. Then I was wrong 
Incountioghnn a wretch: to die well pleas'd, 
Is all the happiest of mankind can hope for. 
To be a wretch, i-' .-—■'-, i — 



Of every joy, and even hope itself, 
Aa I have done. Why do I mourn ! 
Por, by the anguish of my torlur'd s( 



He's to be envied, if compat'd with me. {Exit. 

SCENE II.— A Roam, wlih YouNe Wiumot 

asUep. upon a Bed, in the diatan^^ 

' Enter O1.D "Wilmot and Agnes. 

Agn. The Btmnt^r sleeps at present ; but so 



His slumbers eeem, they ci 



le long. 



O. WU. O, Agnes \ Agues ! 

We should expect it. 

Goes u> ta3ie the dagger, lets it fall. 
Agn. Shake off this panic, and be more your- 
self. 



Grim Poverty, demand ; — they shall be atopp'd. 
AmlH^n, persecuHon, and rovenge, 
Dbtout their milhons MIy : and shall I — 
Bnt follow me^ and see how httlfl cause 
You had lo thmk there was the least remain 
Of manhood', pity^ mercy, or remorse. 
Left in this savage bnasc, 

{Going the wrong vray. 

Agn. Where do you go 1 
Thestreel is that way. 

O. Wtl. True, I had tbrgol. 

Agii. Q^t«, quite confounded. 

O. Wa. Well, I recover. 
1 shall find the way, [Retirea toaards the bed. 

Agn. O, softly! softlyt The least noise undoes 



Stop, hold thy hand !— Inconstant, wretched wcv 
What I doth my heart recoil i— O, Wilmol ! Wil- 



SC£J¥E III.— Another Room. 
Enter Chahlotte, Eustace, and RANUiL. 

Char. What strange neglect I The doors are 
all unberr'd, 
And not a living creature lo be seen. 

Enter Old Wilmot oiirf Aones. 

A thousand greetings. — Ha! what can (his meaal 
Why do you look with such aoiazement on usl 
Are these your transports for your son's return 1 
Where is my Wilmol } Has he not been here 1 
Would he defer your hapjiiness so long ; 
Of, could a habit so disguise your son. 
That you reiiis'd to own him 1 

Agn. Heard you that 1 
Wtet prodigy (rf horror is disclcidng. 
To render murder venial ! 

O. WU. Pr'ythee, peace: 
The miserable damn'd suspend their howling. 
And the swill orbs are lix'd in deep attention. 

Ran. What mean these dceBdml words and 
frantic air ! 
That is the dagger my young maaler wore. 

£10. My mmd miEgives me. £>o not dand to 

On these dumbphantoms of despair and horror] 
' et us search Artilel : Randal, show the way. 
[Exeunt Randai., Eustace, and Charlottb 
Agn. Let life forsake the earth, and light the 

And death and darkness bury in oblivion 
' ' inkind and all their deeds, that no postenty 

IV ever rise to bear our horrid tale, 

the grave of such detested parricides. 

_..*■" " ■' -- 

The E 

When we the curse and burden of the earth. 
Shall be absorh'd and mingled with its dust. 
Our guilt and de«olaUon must be laid. 
From age t« age, to teach desponding mortals. 
How for beyond the reach of human thought 

TT ...C... : ,1 — punish. — Die thoB 

[iSla^ AoNES. 

iat itiy weakness, 

Agn. EvHi 



much riffo 

To give thee life tor hfe, and blood for blood, 
la not enough. Had I ten thousand lives, 



h, Wilmot! oh, my son! my son! [Oio. 

Enter Randal and Eustace. 
Bust. Oh, Wilmot ! Wilmot I 
Are these the fruits of all thy aniioua cares 
For thv ungrateful parents 1— Cruel fSends ! 
O. Wil. What whining fool art Ihoa, whi 
would'at uaurp 
My sovereign right of grief 1— Was he thy son i- 



.1.,,,^'Oogn: 



FATAL CURIOSITY. 



lb 



Say ! canst thou ebow Iby hands reeking with 

That liaw'd, thiough purer channela, from thj 

Compule the sands that bound the apacious ocean, 
And swell their numbers with.a single grun; 
Increase the ndee of thunder with tTiy voice j 
Or, when the i^ng wind lavs nature waste, 
Asast the terapsit with thy feeble breath ! 
But naiTW not thy laint sorrun with the anguish 
Of a curs'd wretch, who only hopes &r this 

[Stabs himself. 
To change the scejie, but not relieve his pain. 

Ran. A dreadfnl instance of the laat remorse I 
May all our woes end here! 

O. wa. would they end 



A thousand ages hence, I then should sufter 
Much less than I deserve. Yet let me say, 
You'll do but justice, to inform the world, 
This horrid deed, that punishes itself 
Was not intended, thinsing him our son; 
Pot that we knew not, 'tilTit was too late. 
Proud and impatient under our alQicUona, 
While heaven mas labouring to make us happy. 
We brought this dreaJfiil ruin on ourselves. 
Manlina may learn — but — oht — [Dia, 

Ran. Heaven grant tlieymav! 
And may thy penitence atone thy crime '. 
'Tend well the hapless Chariotte, and bear henc« 
These bleeding victims of despair and pride; 
Toll the death-bell! and follow lo the grave 
The wretched parents and ill-lated son. lExeaxt. 



, Google 



THE GUARDIAN: 

A OOIKEEDT, 

IN TWO ACTS. 

BY DAVID GARRICK, Esii. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Mr. Heabtlv, Jtfr. Gorriel Mr. Murray. 

Sitt Chaklks Claoeit Mr. Yates Mr. Munden. 

Mk-Ci-ackit. JMr. O'Brtea itfr. Bninim, 

Sebyant, Mr. W.MtiTray. 



ACT!. 

SCENE I.— A Hall at Ma. Heartly's. 
Enter ^ C. Clackit, Yognq Clackit, and 



Sen). I shnll, Sir— [Exit. 

Sir C. Novr nephew, condder once again, 
before I open llie matter to mj neighbour Heartlj, 
what I am gmng lo andertake for yon. — Why 
Ami you apeak'! 

Young C. Is it proper Bud decent, uncle t 

Sir C. Pshaw; dont be a fool— but answer 
me— don't you flatter yonreelf— What assurance 
have yon that this young lady, ncf iHend's ward, 
has a ilhinz tOTOU 1 

Voimg C. First then — Whenever 1 see hor 
riie never looks at me— That's a sign of love. — 
Whenever i speak to her she never answers 
16 



me — Another sign of love. — And whenever I 
speab to any body elae she eecms to be pcl- 
(eclly easy — That^ a certain sign of love. 

Sir C. The devil it is ! 

young' C. When I am with her, she's alwaji 
grave ; and tiie moment I get up to leavp her, 
thenflie poor thing begins— " Stay, you agree- 
able runaway, stay, I shall soon overcome Eha 

fears your presonee gives me." 1 could say 

more But a man of honour^ uncle 

Sir C What,and has shesaid all these things 
to you 1 

Young- C. O yes, and ten times more- with 

^r C With Iter eyes! Eyes are very equi- 
vocal, Jaek. — However, if (he young lady has 
any liking to you, Mr. Heartly is too much a 
man of the world, and too much my friend, to 
oppose the match ; so do you walk into the gal- 
den, and 1 will open the matter to him. 

YoMng C. Is there any objection to my Btajing, 



h,l^,OOgLC 



THE GUARDIAN. 



unde ' The buainess will soon be ended. H 
will prapnse the match, he will give his conse 
I shall give mine, miss is aent for, and I'afa 
eetfait. [Saapping hisjingf..^. 

Sir C. And so you think that a young beautiful 
heiress, vith forty thousand pounds, is to be had 
with a scrap of French, and a snap of your Jin- 
ger ■) — Pr'ythee, get away, and don t provoke me. 

Young C. Well, wel(, I am gone, uncle. 

When you come lo the point, I shall be ready to 
make my appearance, — Bon voyage ! [Exit. 

Sir C. The davil's in these young fellows " 
think.— We send 'em abroad to cure tteir shei 
islmesB, and they gat above proof the other wa 

Enter Heaktlt. 
Good morrow to you, n^ghbour. 

Heort. And to you. Sir Charles ; I am glad 
see you so strong and healthy. 

Sir C, I can return you the compliment, i; 
friend — Without flaUBTy, you don't look 
thirly-five ; and between ouraelv 
the wrongside of forty— But, nn 

Heart Ease and tranq^uilhty ! 






id wife would do well for you. 



Heart. For me 1 you are pleased to be merry. 
Sir Charles. 

Sir C. No, fiuth, I am serious, and had I a daugh- 
ter to reconmiend lo you, you should say me nay, 
more than once, I assure you, neighlmur Hearlly, 
before I would quit yf 



nuchoi 






my business. — You liav 

,,ioac, to tie up yolir Wart 

lot, though you have slipped the coUa 



BO objection, I suppose, to tie up your ward. 

Miss Harriot, though y ' 

yourself — Ha, ha, ha I 



Heart. Cluite the contrary. Sir ; I have taken 
her some Ume from the boarding school, and 
brought her home, in onler Co dispose of her 
worthily with her own inclination. 

Sir C. Her fetheTj I have heard you ssy, re- 
commended that particular care lo you, when she 
had reached a certain age. 

Beart. He did so— And I am the more desi- 
rous to obey him scrupolously in this ciicumstance, 
as she will be a most valuable acquisition to the 
person who shall gain her — for, not to mention 
oer fortune wliich is the least consideration, her 
sentiments are worthy her larth, she is gentle, 
modest, and obU^ng. — In a word, my friend, I 
never saw youth more amiabie or discreet — but 
perhaps I am a Uttle partial to her 

Sir C. No, no, she is a delicious creature, every 
body saya so. — But I believe, neighbour, some- 
Ihing has happened that you little thmk of. 

Heart. What, play, Sir Charles l 

Sir C. My nephew, Mr. Heartly 

Re-enter Young Oi.ackit. 

Youne C. Here I am at your service, Sir.— 
My uncle is a little nnbappy in his manner; but 
ril clear the matterin a moment — Miss Harriot, 
Sir — your ward — 

Sir C Gret away, you pappy ! 

Yourt^ C. iVIiss Harriot, sir, your ward, a most 
accomplished young lady, lo be sure 

Sir C. Thou art a most accomplished coxcomb. 

Heart. Pray, Sir Chatles, let the young gen- 
Voi,. I. . , .C 3« 



17 

'., Mr. Heartly— 



Young C. You'll 
My uncle does not set up for a 
confused or so. Sir — You see what I am— But 
1 ought to ask pardon for the young lady and 
mysdf — We arc young. Sir.— I must confess we 
were wrong to conceal it from you— butmyoncle, 
i. see is pleased to be angry, and tlierefore I shall 
say no more at present. 

Sir C. If you don't leave the room this moment, 
and stay in the garden dll I call you 

Young' C I am aorty I have displeased you — 
I did not think il was mai^a^ropos; but yon 



It have your way, i 



-■fo.' 



m« 



submit — Mr. Heartly, yours. 

I^T C. Puppy ! [Aside.] My nephew's a little 
unthinking, Mr, Heartly, as yon see, and there- 
fore I have been a little cautious how I have pro- 
ceeded in this aflair : but indeed lie lias pcrsuiided 
, n a manner, that your ward and he are not 
ill together. 

Heart. Indeed ! This is the first notice I liave 
id of it, and 1 cannot conceive why Miss Har- 
riot should conceal it from me ; for I have often 
assured her that I would never oppose her incli- 
1, though I might endeavour to direct it. , 
■ C. You are right, neighbour. — But here 

Enter HjHBiOT and Ldcy. 
Har. He is with company — I'll speak to him 
nolher lime. [Retiret. 

lAicy. Young, handsome, and afraid of bung 
een, — You are very parliculat. Miss. 

[Apart to Harriot, 
Heart. Miss Harriot, you must not so.^Hah- 
;loT returyts.] Sir Chanes, give me teave to in- 
troduce you to this young lady. — [Introdiicea her,] 
You know, I suppose, Uie reason of this gentler 
an's viat to me 1 

Hir. Sir! [Qmfviieti. 

Heart. Dont be disturb'd, I shall not reproach 
you with any thing but keeping your wishes a 
— cret from me ao long. 

Har. Upon my word, Sir Lucy I 

lAicy. Well, and Lucy I I'll lay my life 'tis a 
treaty of marriafre,— Is fhal such a dreadful thing 1 
Oh, for shame. Madam ! Young ladies of ^ishion 
e not frightened at such things now-a-days. 
ifcori. [To SiK CHiELES.] Wo have none too 
far, Sir Charles.— We must excuse her dehcaoy, 
^ive her time to recover; — I had better t^k 
with tier alone ; we will leave her now. — Be per- 
iDaded that no endeavours shall be wanting on 
my port to iuing this aifair lo a happy and a^edy 
conclusion. 

Sir C. 1 sliall be obliged lo you, Mr. Healtly. — 
Young lady, your servant, — What grace and 
modesty I She is a. most engaging creature, and I 
shall be proud to malie her one irf my family, 

[ Th Hesrtlt. 
Heart. You do us honour. Sir Charles. 

[Exeunt Sm Charles and Heartly, 
tucy. Indeed, Miss Harriot, you are very par- 
ticular. You was (ired of the boarding school, 
and yet seemto have no incUnation to Se marri- 
ed,— What can be the meaning of all thisi That 
smirking old gentieman ia uncle lo Mr, Clackit ; 
and, my lite ior it, he has made some propoaals 
(0 your guardian. 

Har. Pr'ythee, don't plague me about Mr. 
Clackit, 
Lwcij. But why not, Missl Though he is « 



ic.i.= o;*^.OOglc 



THE GUARDIAN. 



little fentaetical, loves lo hsar himself talk, and 
is somewhat Belf-aofficient, you must CDnsidar he 
ie young, has been abroad, and keeps good com- 
pany,— The trade will soon be at an end, if 
joong ladies and gentiemen grow over-nice and 






Har. But if I ( 



niindor 



withont these faults. 



—What difficulties 



1 may surely plesae myself. 

Z/uoy, WiUioUt these Mlta ! and is he young, 

Hbr. He is sensible, modest, polite, affable, and 
generous i and charms from the natural impulses 
of his own heart, as much as others disgust by 
their senseless bitb and insolent affectation. 

Z/Ucj, Upon my word!— but why have you 
kej* this a secret so long1 Your guardi— " 

kind to you beyond -^"" — tw>.=i At^r- 

can you have to ovenuuic t 

Har. Why, the difficulty of declaring my sen- 
timents, 

Lfliey. Leave Ibat to me, Miss.- But your 
Bpark, with all his accomplishments, must have 
very little penetration not to have discovered his 
good fortune in your eyes. 

flar. I take care that my eyes dont tell too 
much i and he has too mntdi dehcacy In mterpret 
looks lo his advantage. Besides he woold cer- 
tainly disapprove my pasMonj and if I should 
ever make die declaradon, and meet with a denial, 
I should absolutely die with shame. 

Imi^. ni insure your hfe for a alver thimble.— 
But what can possibly hinder your coming toge- 
ther 1 

flor. His escess of merit. 

limy. His excess of a fiddlestick I— -But come, 
IT! put you in the way ;— you shall trust me with 

the secret I'll entrust it again to half a dozen 

irienda ; they shall entrust it lo half a dozen 
more; by which means it will travel half the 
world over in a week's time: the gentleman will 
certainly hear of it, and then if he is not at your 
feet in the fetching of a sigh, I'll give up all my 

Eerquisites at your wedding.— What is his name, 
lissl 

Bar. I cannot tell yon his name— indeed I 
cannot ; I am afraid of bong thought loo singu- 
lar,— Bat why should I be ashamed of my pas- 
Ron 1 Is the unpression which a virtuous cha- 
racter makes uprai our hearts audi a weakness 
that it may not be eicused % 

iMcy. By my Mh, Miss, I can't understand 
Tou: yon are a&aid of being thought singular, 
and you really are so.— I would sooner renounce 
all the passions in the uiiiverso, than have one in 
my bosom beating and fluttering ilaelf to pieces. 
Ee-erder He*htly. 

Heart. Leave us, Lucy. 

Itun/. There's something going forward— tis 
Tery hard I can't bo of the party. [Asirfe, exit. 

Heart. She certainly thinks, from the character 
of the young man, that I shall disapprove of her 
choice. \Aside. 

Har. WTiat can I possibly aay to hira 1 I am 
as much ashamed to make the declaration, as he 
would be (o understand it, [Aside. 

Heart. Dont imagine that I would know more 
of your thoughts than you desire I should ; but 
the tender care which I have ever shown, and the 
sincere frienddiip which I shall alvjays have for 
yon, give me a right lo inquire into every thing 
that concerns you.— Some friends have spoken to 



in particular. — But that is not all— T have 

lately found you thoughtfiil, absent, and disturbed 
—Be pkin wilh me— has not somebody beeii 
happy enough to please you 1 

iibr. I cannot deny it, Sir— yes- 
indeed has pleased me.— Bui I must ei 
not In rive credit to any idle stories, ui h^m uho 
further into the particulars of my inchnailon; 

r I cannot possibly have resolution enough to 

Heart. Bui have you made a choice my dear 1 

Hut. I have, in my own mind. Sir, and 'tis 

impossible lo make a better ;— reason, honour, 



passion! 

Har. Ever since I left the country to live with 
■u. , [Sigh). 

IRart. I see your confuMon, and will reiievB 
lU from it immediately — I am informed of the 

Har. Sir! 

Heart. Don't be uneasy, for I can with pleasure 
.. isuro yon that your passion is returned with 
equal lendemess. 

Har. If you are not deceived — I cannot be more 

Heart. I think I am not deceived; — hut aflet 
the declaration you have made, and the assurances 
which 1 have mven you, why will you conceal il 
any longer 1 Have I not deserved a littie more 
confidence from you 1 

Har. You have indeed deserved it, and should 
certainly have it, were I not well araured that 
you would Oppose my inclmations. 

HeuTt. I oppose 'em I Am I then so unkind lo 
you, my dear Harriot 1— Can you in tJie least 
doubt irfmy affection for you!— I promise yon 
that I have no will but yours. 

Har. Since you desire it then, I will endeavonr 
to expltun myself. 

Heart. I am all attention— speak. 

Har. And if I do, I feel I shall never be able 

Heart. I see your delicacy is hurt : but let me 
entreat you once more to contido in me..— — Tell 
me his name, and the next moment I will go to 
him, and assure him that my consent shall confirm 
both your happiness. 

Har. You wiU easily find him. — And whMi 
you base, pray tell him how improper it is for a 
young woman to speak first — persuade him l« 
spare my blushes, and to release me from so ter- 
rible a situation. — I shall leave him with you — 
and hope that this declaration mil mate it impos- 
Mble for you to mistake me any longer [ Going. 
Enter YovsaCLJLcmT. — Harkiot remaina on 
the Stage. 

Ikart. Are we not alone 1 what can this mean ? 

Young' C. Apropos, feith! Here they are to- 

Heart. I did not see him ; but now the riddle 's 
explained, [Aside. 

Har. What can he want now— This is th« 
most spiteful interruption. [Asida. 

Yoang C. By your leave, Mr. Heartly — 
rCrosses him to go to HinaiOT.] Have I oaiihl 
you at last, my divine Harriot 1— Well, Mr. 
Heartly, sans /apoii— But what's the matter T- 
Things look a little gloomy here i^one mutters 
lo himself and gives me no answer, and tiie other 



o; *^.OOg IC 



THE GUARDIAN. 



-. I wink at you, Sir !— Did I, 



[, my angel— but n 



Young a Yt^ j._, .,., „.^.,- 
Mr. Heattly, for heaven's sake, what is all iMsl 
Speak, 1 conjure you, is it lite or death with 

Bar. What a dreadful situation I am in t 

Young C. Hope for the best.— I'll bring 
tefa about, I warrant yon, 

"" !. Miss Harriot's niJl ia a law to me j 



^^a this occasion. 

Sar, I shall die with confusion 1 [Aside 

Young C. I am alive again,- Deaf Mr. Heart- 
!y, thou art a most adorable creature t Wliaf a 
happiness it is to have to do with a man of senso, 
wSohasnofoolishprejudices, andean see when a 
young fellow has something tolerable about him! 

Beart. Sir, not to flatter you, I must declare 
that It IS from, a knowledge of your friends and 
amily, that I have hopes of seeing you and this 
young lady happy. I wil! go directly to your 
oncle, and assure Mm that every thing goea on 
to our -wislies.- — - [Going. 

Har. Mr. Heartly — pray. Sir I 

Heart, Poor Harriot, I see your distress, and 
am soiry for i( ; but it must be got over, and the 
sooner the better.— Mr. Clackit, my dear, will I 
glad of an opportunity to entertain yon for tii 
Tittle time that! shall be absent. EoorMiasHa 
no? I f Smiles lExi 



Young C. Dont you make yoursslf m 
Hiss Harriot 1 
Har. I am only So when you perast to 



B thai 






. ._. i think every 
thing succeeds to our wishea.— Be sincere, my 

sdorable Don't you think yourself a very 

happy young lady ^ 

Bar. I shall be moat particularly obhged to 
you. Sir, if vou would in&nn me what is the 
meaning of all this. 

Yimnf a Inform you, Miss i— The matter, I 
believe, is pretty clear :— our friends have under- 
standings — we have auctions- and a marriage 



Yaiing C. I may be deceived, feith ;— but apon 
my honour, I always supposed that there was 
a htlle SQWttering of inclination between ua. 

Bar. And have you spoke to my guardian 
upon this supposition, Sir^ 

Youtig C, And are yoa angry at iH— " 

Bir. Indeed, Sir, this behaviour of yours is 
most eitraordinary. 

Yoang C. Upon my soul this is very droll— 
What I haa not your guardian been here this mo- 
naent, and eipressed all imaginable pleasure at 
our intended union "i 

Hot. He is in an error, Sir:— and had I not 
been too much astonished at your behaviour, I had 
undeceived hun long before now. 

Young C. [Bums a tune.] But pray. Miss, 
what can be your intention m raising all this 
confusion m the Ikmily, and oppoana vour own 
inclinariona 1 " -5 j 

flar. Opposing ray own inclinations, Sir 1 

Young a Ay, opposing your own inclina-' 
tiona. Madam. 

Bar. Be aaaqred. Sir, I never in my life had 
Uie least thought about you. 



[Smiies. 

Bar. Positively not. 

Young- C. And you are very sure now thai 
you hate me 1 [ConceUedlu. 

Bar. Oh ! most cordially. 

Yoang C. Poor young lady! I do pity you 
from my soul. 

Bar. Then why don't you leave mel 

Young C. '■ She never fold her love 
But let conteahnent, like a wormi'th' bad, 
Peed on her damask cheek." 
Taie warning. Miss, when you onoe begin to 
pine in thoaght, 'tis all over with you; and be. 
assured, rince you are ohatinately bent to give 
yourself airs, that if you once suffer me to leave 
thia house in a pet— Do you mind me 1— not all 
your Mghing, whining, fits, vapours, and hyster- 
ics, shall ever move me to lake Ihe least compas- 
sion on yon— Co«<e qa'it eotite. 
Re-enter HEjHrtr and Sir Chahles Cljckit. 



I am of this alliance in onr families. 

Sir a 'Gad, I will send for the fiddles, and 
take a dance mysoif, and a fig for the gout and 

rhanmaUam. But hold, hold the lovers me- 

thinks are a liltle out of humour witli each other. 
What is the matter, Jack i Not pouting sure 
before your time 1 

Young C. A trifle, Sir the lady will tell 

ou- [Hams a iune 

Heart. You seem to be troubled, Harnot 1— 

ffor. You have been m an error. Sir, about 
le ;— I did not undeceive you, because I couU 
ot imagine that the consequences could have 
Ben so serious and so sudden,— but I am now 
forced to tell you that you have miaunderetood 
B — that you have distrrasod me. 
Heart. How, my iiear 1 
Sir C. Whatdo you say, Missi 
Young G. MademMselfe is pleai ' 
of humour ; but I cant blame her ; 

honour, Ithink a little coquetry beci. 

■Sir C. Ay, ay, ay— oh oh— Is that all % These 
Iiltle squalls seldom overset the kivera boat bul 

drive it the faster to port — ay ay ay 

Young C. Talk to her a htlle Mr Heartly 
She is a fine lady and haa many virtues but 
she does not know the world 

Heart. For heavens sake Miss Hamot ex 
plain this riddle to me 

Bar. I cannot. Sir— I have discovered thf 
weakness of my heart — I have diicovered it to 
you. Sir ;— but your unkmd inteniretations and 
reproachful looks convince me that I have al 
ready sakl too much [Exti , Hejrtlt muse* 
iStr C, Well, but harkye, nephew— this is 
going a little too fer— What have you done to hei 1 
" ' " never saw her so agllated before. 



r, upon my 



lo.Bd, Google 



THE GUARDIAN. 



Yming Q. Upon my soul, gentlemen, I am as 

much surptiseiJ at it as you can be The little 

bravaierie between us arose upon her persisting 
that there was no pasMon, iioperacftant between us. 

- - -■ Jl y- -'•-• "--'■ ^'- 

don't approve of. , , . 

' Young- C, But what can the lady object i 
I have offered to marry her ; is not that a pr 
Buffident that 1 Uke her % A young fellow m 
have some affeclion that will go such length: 
indulge it. Ha, ha! , , , , 

Sir C. Why really, friend Hearlly, I don t see 
how a young man can well do more, or a lady 
doiJre more. ^What aay you neighbour 1 

Beart. Upon my word, 1 am paizled about it 

my thoughta upon the matter are so 

and so confused.— Every thing I see and 

so contradictory ia so She certaii 

not like any body else I 

young- C. No, no, I'll anawer for that. 

Heart. Or she may be fearful then that your 
pas«on for her ia not sincere ; or, hke other 
young men of the limes, you may grow careless 
upon marriage, and neglect her. 

Young C. Ha! 'Egad, you have 

thing but a little natural, delicate sei 

[B 

Heart. If s{ 
proauhes may ^ 
your protesaions. 

Yonng C. Je ii. 



[act II. 

at delicate and 



defend from every inquietude the ni 
tender of her aei. 
air C. Most nobly and warmly said, Mr, 

Heartly. Qo to her, nephew directSy, ■ 

throw yourself at her feet, and swear how much 
■ beauty and virtue have captivalad yon, and 
till yon have set her dear little 



leauty and 
! let her go 



Sir C. Damn your conceit. Jack ; I 

Heart. I am very sorry 
lady BO near and dear ' 






find that any young 

_ie, should bestow her 

'here there ia bo Utile prospect of its bemg 

as it ought. However, I shall not op- 

ly authority to her inclinations ; and so 






a SsavANT. 



.. lande pardon — I havt 

onuuilo her a hundred and a hundred timea, thai 
she should be the happiest of her ses,— But 
there ia nothing suprising in all this ; it is the 
misery of an over-fond heart, to be always doubt- 
ful of its happiness. 

Heart And if she marncs thee, I fear that 
•he'll be kept in a stale of doubt as long as she 
[,^_ '^ [Half aside. 

Re-enter LncT. 
I/mi. Pray, gentlemen, which of you has af- 
ftonted my miatreaal She ia in a most prodi- 
gious taking yonder, and vows to return into th 
country again. 

YowigC. Poor thing! _ , , 

Henri. I must inquire further inlothis; her b( 

haviQUC is too particular for me not to he disturi 

«d at it. 

hacy. She dearea that 

p -i/ -L^ rtiQ^ lolt until .,.,..«, ,.,... 

[ 'ih Hejutly. 
Heart. I shall with pleasure attend her. 

[Exit Lucv, 
Sir C. I would give, old as I am, a leg or an 
irm to be beloved by that aweet creature as you 
are. Jack! , ^ 

Yintng C. And throw your gout and rheuma- 
tism into the bargain, uncle 1 Ha, ha. Divine 

Bacchus. La, ia, ia, &c. [Sings. 

Sir C. I wonder what the devil - '- ' - 

■ ■■wi 

it upon 'em. — la 
o make 'em less fond of them- 
»elves and moremindful of the ladies'! 

mart. IJfflt ye, Mr, Clackit, if Jdiss Harriot's 
affec^ns declare for you, she most pot be Seated 

with neglect or disdain Nor cpuld 

Sir. — Any man [ 

iked, svho would 



Let the youns lady know that I shall attend her 
commani in the library. [Bri( berv.,nt.] WiU 
you excuse me, gentlemen? 

Sir C, Ay, ay— we'll leave yon to yourselvesi 
and pray convince her that I and my nephew are 
moat sincerely her very humble servants. 

Young C. O yea, you may depend upon me. 

Heart, A very slender dependence truly. 

[Aside I ExU. 

Young C. We'll be with you again to know 
what your t61e JL tfite ptoduccB. and in the mean- 
time I am hers and youra Adieu. Come 

uncle Fal, lal, la, lal 

Sir C I could knock Mm down with pleasure. 
[Aside, Exeunt. 

. ACT 11. 
SCENE I.—A Library. 
Hejrtlv and a Servant discocered. 
Heart. Tell Miss Harriot that I am here.— If 
ahe is indispoaed, I will wait upon her in her own 
room. [Exit Servant.] Hovrever m_ysterioua her 
conduct appears to me, yel stiU it is to be deci- 
phered ^This young gentleman has cer- 
tainly touched her— There are some objections 
to him, and among so many young men of fashion 
that fall in her way, she certainly might have 
made a better choice : she has an understanding 
sensible of this; and, if 1 am not mistaken, 
itrusale between her reason and her pas- 
. ^..._. -..11 »ut-, «^^F,,^\f.n riiit herfi 



St be proud of her partiality 
t be feshionahly insensit ' " '" 
it make it his darling c 






IS all this confusit 



Enter Harriot, 



Har. I hope you are not angry, Sir, that I left 
you so abrupUy, without making any apology 1 

Heart. I am angry that you think an apology 
necessary. — 'The matter we were upon was of 
such a delicate nature, that I was more pleased 
with your confusion than I should have been with 
your excuses, Youll pardon me my dear. 

Har. I have reflected that the person for whom 
I have conceived a most tender regard, may, from 
the wisest motivea, doubt of my passion ; and 
therefore I would endeavour lo answer all his 
objections, and convince him how deserving he is 
of my highest esteem. .... 

Heart. I have not jet apprehended what kind 
of dispute could arise betwee 



1 and Mr 



o; *^.OOg IC 



I-l 



THE GUARDIAN. 



Clackit:— but I would advise you both to come 
lo a reconciliation a^ soon as possible. 

Sar. He still continues in Us error, imd I can- 
uot undeceive bim. [Aside. 

Heart. Shall I ta^te the liberty of teUing you, 
mv dear 1 — [ Ta&ea her lumd,}—Yim tremble, 
Harriot ! What is the matter with you f 

Hot. Nothing, Sir.— Pray go on. 

Hettrt I gueys whence proc«eda alT your anea- 
■iness. — You fear that die "world will not he so 



deserving of you; but^our regard for him gives 
him a merit he otherwise vroold have wanted, and 



lousLy fb 

confession of this kind will not become me, 
have been thinking of some innocent stntlagei 
lo spare my bluslSs, and, in jarl, to reiievB ni 
from the shame of n declarauoii, — Might I be 
permitted to write to him 1 

I^atl. \ thinls jou may my dear, without the 
least oHence to your delii^cy : and indeed you 



ought to explain yourself; your late a 
.standing makes it absolutely necessi 
Sot. will you be tiiid enougii to 



Will you write it for me. Sir 

Heart. Oh^ moat wilUngl v !— And aa I am 
made a pait^ it will remove all objections. 

Hair. 1 will dictate to you in the best manner I 
am able. [Sigha. 

Heart. Here is pen, ink, and paper; and novt, 
my dear, 1 am ready, — He is certainly a man of 
family, and though ho has some Uttle &ults, time 
and your virtues will correct them.^Come, what 
diall I write 1 [Prepares to vHte. 

Hot. Pray give me a moment's thought; — 'tis 
a terrible task, Mr, Hearlly, 

jFfeart. 1 know it is, — Don't hurry yourself— 
1 diall wait with patience,— Come, Miss Harriot, 

Hot. [Dictating,] It is in vain for me to con- 
cealjrom one t^yottr understand/iTiffj the aecretB 
iff my heart. 

Heart, The secrets qf mif heart. [Writes, 

Har, Though your huntiiity and modesty vtUt 



Mar, Pray indulge me, Sir. 
Heart. I beg your pardon, — Your humility 
and modesty ■£ill not saffer you, to perceive it — 

Har, Eaery thing tells i/ou, that it ii you that 



Heart. O ! yes, yes — I understand you— iftt 
it is you that I lope, — This is very plain, my dea. 

Har. 1 would have it so, — Aiul though I am 
already bouTid in gratitude to you 

Heart. In gratitude to Mr. Clackit 1 

Har. Pray write. Sir, 

Heart. Well — m gratitmie to you— I must 
write what she would have me. [Aside, 



Har. Yet my passion is a most disiTiterested 

Heart. Most disinterested one. 

Har- And to convince you,that you, otoe much 

tore to mj affections 

Heairt. And then % 

Har. Icouidinishthatlhadnote^tperienced — 

Bsoirt. Stay, slay : Hid not experienced 

Har, Yo-ar tender care (fme in my ij^ancy 

Heart. What did you say t — —Did I hear 
right, or am 1 in a dream 1 [Aside, 

«„'■ -„L.. I .... . ._ .,.__:, .^■, .Till I 



Why iwve I declared myself 1 He^ll hate 
me for my folly, [Aside, 

Heart, Harriot! 

Har. Sir ! 

Heart, To whom do you write thisletter? 

Hir. To— to— Mr. Clackit— Is it notf 

Heart. You must not mention then the care of 
your infancy : it woidd be ridiculous. 

Har. It would indeed : — I own it ; — It is im- 
proper. 

Heart. Then I'll only finish your letter with 
the usuai compliment and send it away, 

Hxr, Yea — send it away — if you think I oughl 



Heart, [Troubled,] Ought lo send it 



Who's 



. _ ',jtding the ie^ier.l— Is 

not for Mr. Clackit^ 
Har. [Peenishly,'} Who can it be for 1 
Heart. [To the fi&-ron(.] Here, take this letter 
Mr. Clackit. [Gives the letter ; exit Servant. 
HhT, He disai^iroves my pasdon, and I shall 
die with confu^u. [Jcidc. 

Enter Lugt. 
Inury. The conversation is over, and I may 
appear. [Aside^ — Sir Charles is without, Sir, 
and is impatient to know your determination.'— — . 
May he be permitted to see you t 
&aTt I must retire, to conceal my weakness. 
[Aside ; Exit, 
Ijucy, Upon my word this is very whimsical. — 
What is the reason. Miss, that your guardian is 
without giving me an answer, 
hat a contem^ he must have for me 
to behave in this manner ! [Aside ; Exit, 

Imcu, Extremely well this, and equally foolish 
1 both sides! — But what can be the meaning of 
T— What a shame is this that I don't know 
lore of this matter, a wench of spnit as I am, a 
vourite of my mistress, and as mquinUve as I 
ought to be ^ It is an afiront to my character, and 
' 1 have satisfection immediately. — [GDt?iB-.J ^ 

SI directly to mj young mistress, lease her 
till I am at the bottom of Ihts ; and if 
threatening, soothing, scolding, whispering, crying, 
and lying will not prevail, I will e'en ^ve her 
warning-— and go upon the stage. [Exit. 

Se-enter Hesbtly, 
Heart, The more I reflect upon what has 
passed, the more I am convinced that she did not 

intend writing to this youna fellow. What 

am I to think of it then 1— Had not my reason 
made a little stand asainst my presumption, ! 
might have interpreted Bomo of Harriot s words 

in my own fevour; but Can it be pesdblu 

that so young a creature should even cast a thought 
of that kinf u])on me t — Upon mc > — No, no — 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



THE GUARDIAN. 



[AC 



[ wili do her and myself the iusdce to acknow- 
fedge, that, for a very few ^ight appearances, 
there are a thousand leasons that d^troy so ri- 
diculous a suppo»ition. 

Enter Sir Charlh3 Cljchit. 

Sir C. Well, Mr. Heartly, what are we to 
hope for 1 

Heart. Upon my word. Sir, I am still in the 
Jaik ; we puzzle about indeed, but ne don't get 

Sir C. What the deril is the meaning of all 
dus? There 






It have 



X"".? 



little 



too rough with the (ndy 1 1^'or as 1 passed by her 

but now, she seemed a littls out of hmnour 

And, upon my faith, not the less beautiful tor a 
little poutiDg. 

Heart. Upon my word, Sir Charles, what I 
can collect mim her behaviour is, that your ne- 
phew is not so Dioch in her good graces as he 
made you believe. 



Heartly, does he take me for his fool, his beast, 

hia merry Andrew 1 By the lord Harry 

Heart. He is of an age Sir Charles 

Sir C. Ay, of an age to bo very unpertinent ; 

bat I shall desite him to be less free with his uncie 

tor the future, I assure him. 

Be-enter Lucy. 



— I know the knighterrant thai 
has WDunded our distressed lady. 

Sir C. Well, and who, and what, child 1 

Jjitcy. Wiiat ! has she not told you Sir 1 

[To Heaktly. 

Heart. Not directly. 

Lucy, So much the betfer, — What pleasure 
it is to discover a secret, and then tell it to all the 
world ! — I pressed her so much that she at last 
confessed. 

SItC. Well, what! 

liucy. That, in tJie first place, she did not like 
your nenhew. 

Sir C. And I told the pappy so. 

I/iuy. That she had a most mortal antipathy 
for the young men of this age ; and thai she had 
srttled her afiectiona upon one of riper years, and 
riper understaniling. 

fiSr C. Indeodl 

Lnicy. And that she espectec! from a lover in 
his autumn mere atfection, more complaisance, 
more constanvy, ■iad discretion, of course. 

Heart. This is veiy parlJcalar. 

Sir C Ay, but it is very prudent for all that. 

lAoy. In shmt, as she liad openly declared 
against the nephew, 1 look upon ine to speak of 
his uncle. 

Sir a Of mo, child 1 

LMcy, Yes, of you. Sir ; And she did not 

•ay me nav" But cast such a look, and fetched 

fcuch a sign that if ever I looked and sighed 

in my lite, 1 know how it is with her. 

rSSr C, What the devil !— Why surely—Eh, 
Lucy 1 You ioke for certain — Mr. Heartly ! — Eh ! 

Lmry. indeed I do not, Sir. 'Twaa in vain 

(iw me to say that nothing could be so ridiculous 



as sucha choice.— Kay, Sir, I went a Kftie farther 
(you'll excuse me,) and told her — " Good God, 
madam," saiii I; "why he is old and gouty, asth- 
matic, rheumatic, sdalJCj splenetic." — It signified 
nothing she had determined. 

Sir C. But you need not have told her aH 
that.— It can't be me.— Nu, no, it can't be me. 

iMcy. But I tell you it is. Sir. You are the 

Sr C. Sav you so 1— Why then, monsieur ne- 

e' ew, I shall have a Utile laugh with you 
a, ha, ha 1 — Your betters must be served before 

you, — But here he comes Not a wordj for 

your Ule. We'll laugh at him most tnmft- 

phantly Ha, ha I but mum, mum. 

Enter YouNO ClsCKIT. 
Yamig C. Meeting by accident with si 



Sir C. Now for i' 

Oiart, Miss Harriot, Sir was not destined for 



Yoang C. Upon another I 

Sir C Yes, Sir, another ; That is English, 

Sir i and you my translate it into French, if you 
like it better. 

Young C. Very vrall, Sir, extremely welL 

Sir C. And that Mher, Sir, is one to whom 



ct nephen 

and Ae young lady, when you have n 
terest in her ffian the czar of Muscovy. 

Young C. [Smites.] But, my dear uncle, don't 
carry this jest too ftr 1 shaU begin to be un- 
easy: but whoever my precious rival is, he 
aat prepare himself for a little humility; for, bo 
1 ever so mighty, my dear uncle, I have tliat in 
y pocket wUl lower his topsails for him, 

[Seareking hia pocket. 
SirC. Well,™hat'sthatl 
Young C. A iburlflen pounder only, ray good 
uncle— A letter from the young lady. 

[ Takes it out qf his pocket. 
Sir C. What ! to you ? 

Young C. To me, Sir This moment re- 

ved, and overflowing with the lenderest senti- 

Sir a To you 1 

Youn^ C, Most undoubtedly. She re- 

jBohes me with my escessive modesty— there 



Sir C. What let 


er is this he chatters about 1 




1 31) Heabtlt. 


Heart. Ono wrhti 


n by me, and dictated by the 


'"i'?Wi .. 


nt by her to him 1 


Heart. I believe s 




Sir C. Well, but 


then How tho devil 


Mrs. Lucy I Eh 


What becomes of yom 


fine story 1 






Sir a Not 11 





,/ Google 



^] 



THE GUARDIAN. 



Heart, [Hesiti 
Yming C. But I diA-And sq you will all pre- 
ienily. 

Re-enler HabhcOt. 
B, Mt. Hearlly, what k all this 
n of the 






Young a I „.-^ 
string, Mademoiseile, lo coiisiiice you that 
SH I ought the honour you have done me.— [SftoMi- 
ing- the letter,],— But, far hflaven's sake, be sin- 
cere a little with these good folks ; they IcU me 
here that I am nobody, and there ia another hap- 
pier than myself 

flor. To hesitate anylonger would be injurioua 
tomyguaidian, his friend, this young gentiema 
and my own ohafacter. You have all Twen in s 
error. — My baahfulnesB may iiave deceived you- 
My heart never did. 

Young C. Ceetvrai. 

Har. Therefore before I declare ra 






JTar. With fear and shame confess 

Young C. Courage, Mademoiselle ! 
Hut. That another, not you, Sir, has gained a 
power over my heart. [To Younh CTlackit. 

Sir C. Another, not you; mind that, Jack. 

Hit. It ia a. power indeed which he deapiaea, — 
I cannot be deceived in his conduct,— Modesty 
may tie the tongue of our sex, but silence in him 
could proceed only from contempt. 

Sir C, How prettily she reproaches me ! — But 
I'll soon make it Dp with her. [Aside. 

Har. As to that letter. Sir, your error there ia 
eicuaablo ; and I own myself in that particular a 

little blaraeable. But it was not my feult that 

it was Bent to you ; and the contents must have 
told jou that it caold not possibly be meant ■ for 
you, jTd YauMG Cwckit, 

iSrC. Proof poMtivB, Jack:— Say no more. 
Now is my time lo ba^n.^-Hem ! — hem l^^weet 
young lady ! — hem I — whose charms are so 
mighty, so far tnuiacending every tiling tJiat we 
laad (rf in Mstory or fable, how could you possibly 
think that my alienee proceeded from contcmpf? 
was it natural or prudent, think you, for a man 
of siity-five, nay, just entering into his sixty-aixth 



Har, Don't imagine, Sir, that to 
isany ftnlt. 



■ 0. [Bowing.] You are very obliging, Mb- 

T. Neither is it. Sir, a. merit of that estrs- 
ordinary nature, that I should sacrifice lo it an 
inclination which I have conceived Jbr another. 

Sir a How is this* 

Young C. Another ! not you ; mind that, uncle. 

Lucy. What is the meanmg of all this 'i 

Young C. Proof positive, uncle— And very 
poaiUve, 

Sir C. I have been led into a mistake. Madam, 
which I hope jou will eicuse : and i have made 
myself veiy ndiculous, which I hope I shall 
forget ;— And so. Madam, I am your iiumble ser- 

Heart. What I now see, and the remembrance 
of what ia paat, force me to break silence. 

Young C. Ay, now for it.— Heal him— hear 

I&art. O my Harriot I — I too must be disgraced 
inmy turn.— Can you think that I have seen and 
conversed with you unmoved 1— Indeed I have 
not,— The more I was sensible of your merit, the 
stronger were my moUvea to stifle the ambition 
of my heart,— But now I can no longer roaial the 
violence of my passion, which casta me at voui 
feet, the mostunworthyindeed of all your admirers, 
but of all the most affectionala. 

Bar. I have refused my hand to Sir Charles 
and ' this young gentleman : the one accuses me 
of caprice, the other of aingularity :— -Should I 
refuse my hand a third time, [s'/niling,] I might 

•* 'f a more severe reproach- and 

t your fevour. Sir, and will en- 



and all my services, to the author of my happmeas! 
[Kisses her hand. 
C Well, my dear discreet nephew, are you 
satisfied with the (ool'a part you have given me, 
and played yourself in the farce t 

Young C. What would you have me aay, Sir! 

am too much a philoaopher to fret. 

fleori. I hope. Sir Charles, that we shall atill 

. .intinue tn live as neighbours and friends. For 

you, my Harriot, worda cannot express my won- 

j ly j^ . ^y future conduct muat tell you 

sense I have of my hapjrineas, and how 

much I ahall endeavour lo deserve it. 

For ev'ry charm that ever yet bless'd youth, 
Aecefrt compliance, tenderness, and truth ; 
My friendly care shall change to grateful love, 
And the land husband still the Guardian prove 
[Exeara 



, Google 



THE LYING VALET: 

A FAROE. 

IN TWO ACTS, 

BY DAVID GARRICK, Esq. 



tms piece was Bin Isnnidied al the TlieBtre In 
plaCfl fbr the Tiieatre Royal. Diury Lane, brought hii 
Comedy : bat it has Bpitil, Incident, aod TBticty. wit 



DRAMATIS PERSON,*;. 



JueTiOE Guttle, 
Beau TmrPET, . . 



Kitty Pby 

Mna Gadabout, 
Mrs. TRirrET, . . 



fr 


Goiri:*. 


h 


Blaies. 




Tasadl. 




Neal. 


\1t 




lissBmmi. 




ks. Cross. 


Ifr 


a. Ridom. 



SCENE I.— Gaylgbb'^ Lodgings. 
Enter Gayless and Sharp. 

Sharp. How, Sir! shall you be iii»nied to- 
morrow 1 Eh, I'm afraid you joke with jonr 
poor humble servant. 

Gav. I tell thee Sharp, last night Melissa con- 
sented, and filed (o-nxnrow tor the hapiij day. 

Sharp. 'Tis well she did, Sii, or it might ha»e 
been a dceadfu! one for ue, in out present condi- 
tion : all jour money spent, your moreables sold, 
jour honour almost ruined, and your humble ser- 
Yant almost starved ; we could not poaablj have 
Blood it (wo days longer. Bat if this young lady 
will marry you and relieve us, o'my conscience, 
ni turn mend to the sex, and think of a wife 

Gay. And yet, Sharp, when I think how 



of my affeirs, ask her pardon, and implore her pily. 

Sharp. After marriage, with all my heart, Sir. 

Oay. What,beuauseIampoor,Bhalllabandon 
my honour 1 

Sharp. Yes, you must, Sir, or abandon me : so 
pray discharge one of us ; fin eat I must, and 
speedily too : and you know very well that that 
honour of yours will nather mtroduce you lo a 
great man's table, nor get me credit for a singla 
Beef-Bteak. 

Gay. What can 1 do? 

Sharp. Nothing, while honour sticks in yoar 
throat : do gulp, master, and down with it. 

Gay. Prithee, leave me to my thoughts. 

Sharp. Leave you! No, notiu such bad com- 
pany. I asBure you. Why you must certainly 
be a very great philosopher, Sir, lo mocaliie and 
declaim so charmingly as you do, about honOUI 



ojl^iOOgLC 



«■] 



THE LYING VALET. 



and cunEdence, when your doors are beset with 
bailiffs, and not one single guinea in your pocket 
to bribe tlie villiana. 

Gay. Don't be witty, and give your adTice, 

Sharp. Do you be wise and take it, Sir. But 
to be serioua ; yeu certainly have spent your for- 
tune, and out-lived ^ur credit, aa jour pectete 
and my belly can testify : your lather has disown- 
ed you ; all your friends forsook you, except my- 
self, who am starving with you. Now, Sir, if 
yon marry this young lady, who as yet, thank 
""3n, knows nothing of your misfortunes, and 









ntunc than that 



you squandered away, make a good husband, ai 



by the bargain. There's 



n ajid argument. 



Gay. 'Twaa with that prospect I first made 
love to her. 

Sharp, Pray then make no more objecdons to 
the marriage. You see 1 am reduced to my 
Waisooat aJready ; and when necessity has un- 
dressed me from top to toe, she must begin with 
you ; and then we shall be forced to keep house, 
and die by inches,— Look you, Sir, if vou wont 
resolve to lake my advice, while you have one 
coat to youT back, 1 must e'en take to my heels, 
while I have strength to run, and something to 
cover me : so Sir, wishing you much comfort and 
consolation with your bare conscience, I am your 
most obedient and half-starved friend and servant, 
[Going. 

Gay. Hold, Sharp, you won't leave me^ 

^arp. I must eat. Sir ; by my honour and 
appetite, 1 must! 

Gay. "Well then, I am resolved to favour the 
cheat ; and as I shall quite change my farmer 
course of life, liappy may be the consequences ; at 
least of this I am sure — 

Sharp. That you can't be worse than you are 
at present. [A knocking vHthout. 

Gay. Who's there? 

Shar, " 

fevoui 

duly menientoeB to you of the iblly of trusting 
rogues, and laughing at my adv'- 

Gay. Gease yourim pertinent 
If th( 



;rt»inly fixed, and persuade 'em still to forbear 
a few days longer. And lio you hear Sh— -'' 
it should be any body &om IVfelissa, say I 



ir Sharp, if 



the bad appearance we make here 
should make 'em suspect something to our disad- 
vantage. 

Sharp. I'll obey you, Sir ; but I'm afraid they 
will eafflly discover the consumptive situation of 
our affairs by my chop-fallen countenance. [EsU. 

Gay. Tliese very rascals, who are now con- 
tinually dunning and persecuting me, were the 
very persons who led me to my ruin, partook of 
my prpsperily, and professed the greatest fiiend- 

Sharp. [Withoat.] Upon my word, Mrs. Kit- 
tj, my master'snot at home. 

Kitty. [Without.] Lookye, Sharp, I must and 
will see him. 

Gay. Ha, what do [ hear 1 Mehssa's miud I — 
She's coming up stairs. "What must I do 1 — I'll 
get into this closet and listen. [Ei 

Yoi„ 1, , . . D 3 



Rs-etiter Shahp, inith Kitty. 

Kitty. I must know where he is, and will 
know too, Mr. Impertinence I 

,S?uin!. Not of me you won'L [Aside:\ He'e 
not within, I teli you, Mrs, Kitty. I dont know 
myself Do you think I can conjure 1 

Kilty. But I know you will lie abominably ; 
theretfcie don't trifle with me. I come from my 
mistress, Me1issa:you know, I suppose, what's 
to be done to morrow morning ? 

Sharp. Ay, and to-morrow night too. girl ! 

Kitty. Not if I can help it. [Aside.] But come, 
where is your master 1 for see him I must. 

Sharp. Pray Mrs. Kitty, what's your opinion 
of this match between my master and your mis- 

Kitty. "Why,Ihavenoopinionofit atail; and 
yet most of our wants will be relieved by it too | for 
instance now, your master will get a fortune, 
that's what I am afraid he wants; my nuslress 
will get a husband, that's what she has wanted 
for some time ; you will have the pleasure of my 
conversstbn, and I an opportunity of breaking 

, j_jr most humble set- 

'II tell you what, Mrs. Kitty, I am 
positively against the nia1i;h ; for was I a man of 
my master's fortune, 

Kitty. You'd marry if you could, and mendit 
ha, ha, ha I— Pray Sharp, where does your mas- 
ter's estate lie % 

Sharp. Lie. He !— why, it lies — 'faith I can't 



steward hardly knows himself. 

Killy. Scattered, scattered, I suppose. But 
harkye. Sharp, wilt's become of your furniture 1 
You seem to be a little bare here at present. 

Sharp. Why you must know, as soon as (he 
vredding was filed, niy master ordered me to re- 
move his goods to a friend's house, to make room 
for a ball which he designs to give here the day 
after the marriage. 

Kitty. The luckiest thingin the world ! fbrmy 
mistress designs to have a ball and entertainment 
here to-night before the marriage ; and that's my 
business with your master. 

Sharp. Tbedevilitisl [Aside. 

Kitty. Shell not have it public; she designs to 
invite only eight or ten couple of friends. 



Shar 



Norn 



Kitty. No more : and she ordered me to desire 
your master not to order a great onterlainmenL 

Sharp. Oh, never tear, 

Kitty. Ten or a doien little nice things, with 
some fruit, I beUeve, will be enough in all con- 



Sharp. Oh, curse y 

Kitty. And what di 
my own head 7 

Sharp. What! 

Kitly. I iiave invited all my lord Stately's ser- 
vants to come and see you, and have a dance in 
the kitchen: wont your master be surprised! 

Sharp. Much so, indeed I 

Kitly. Well, be quick and Und out your mas 
ter, and make what haste you can with your pre- 

girations ; you have no time to lose. Pr'ythee, 
harp, what's the matter with you f I have not 
seen you for some time, and you seem to look 
liUle thin. 



./Google 



2Q 



THE LYING VALET. 



f^rp. Oh, my unfortunate fecei [Aside.] I'm 

in pure health, thank you, Mrs, Riliy ; and I'll 

assure you I have a very good stomach, never be^ 

ter in ail my Me ; and 1 am fiill of vigour, huasy ! 

[Of^a to kiss fter. 

Kitty. What, with that fecel— WeU, by by. 
[Going-.]— Oh, Sharp, what ili-lonking fellows 
are those, who were slanJing about your door 
when I tame in 1 They want your master'" ' 

Sharp. Hum ! Yes, they are waiUng for him. 
They are some of his tenants out of the eouiitry, 
that want to pay him some money. 

Kitiy. Tenants ! What, do you let his tenants 
«(and in the street % 

Sharp. They choose it ; as they seldom cotne to 
town, they are willing U) see as much nf it as 
Ihey can when they do: they are raw, ignorant 
honest people. 

Kitty. Well, 1 must run home— feroweil 
But do you h^rl Get something substantial for 
us in the kitchen: a ham, a turtey, or what you 
will. We'll be very merry. And be sure to 
remove the tables and chairs away there too, that 
we may have room to dance. I can't bear to be 
coniineil in my French dances — tal,lal, lal. [Dan- 
ces.] Well, adieu! Without any compliment, I 
Bhall die, if I don't see you soon. [Exit. 

Sharp. And, without any compUment, I pray 
heaven you may ! 

Re-enfer Gatless ; Ihey took for some time 
eifrroi^uily at eaeh other. 

Gay. Oh, Sharp ! 

Sharp, Oh, master! 

Gay. We are certainly undone 1 

Sharp. That's no news to me. 

Gay. Eight or ten couple of dancers— ten or 
a dozen little nice dishes, with some fhiit— ^my 
lord Slalely's servants— ham and turkey I 

Sharp. Say no more; the very sound creates 
an appetite : and I am suta, of late, I have had no 
occasion ibr nhetters and provocatives. 

Gay. Cursed misfortune ! what can we do 1 

Sharp. Hang ourselvesj I see no other reme- 
dy; except you nave a receipt to give a ball and a 
supper wimout meat or music. 

Gay. Mebfaa has certainly heard of my bad 
drcnmstances, and has invented this scheme to 
distress me, and break off this match. 

SkuTp. I don't believe it. Sir; begging your 

Gay. No! why did her mad then make so 
strict an inquiry mto my fortune and affairs 1 

Sharp. For two very substantial ceasona; the 
firat to satisfy a curiosity natural to her as a 
woman : the second, to have the pleasure of my 
conversatjon, very natural to her as a woman of 
taste and understanding. 

Gay. Pr'ythee be more serious : is not our at! 
atstukef 

Sharp. Yes, Sir; and yet that all of ours is of 



> little c 






e, that a 






do you be as merry as love and poverty will per. 
mit you. 

Would yon succeed, a faithHil friend depute, 

Whose head can plan, and front can execute. 
[Exeunt 
SCENE i/.— MELissi'a Lodgings. 
Enter Melissa and Kitty. 

Mel. You sariiriae me, Kitty ! the master not at 
home, the man in confusion, no furniture in the 
house, and ill-looking fellows about the doora ! 
■lis all a riddle. 

Kiily. But very easy to be explained, 

Mel. Pr'ythee espiain it then, nor keep me 
longer in suspense. 

Kitty. The aliaii is this, Madam; Mr. Gay- 
less is over head and ears in debt ; you are over 
head and ears in love : you'll marry him to-mor- 
row ; the neit clay your whole fortune goes to hii 
creditors, and you and jour children are to live 
comfortably upon the remainder, 

Mel. I cannot think him base. 

Killy. But I know ibey are all base. Yoa 
are very young, and very ignorant of the sex ; I 
am young loo, but have more experience : you 
never was in love before ; I have been in love 
with a hundred, and tried 'em all ; and know 'em 
all to be a parcel of barbarous, perjured, deluding 
bewitching devils, 

Mel, Tie low wretches you have had to do 
with, may answer the character you give 'em ; but 
Mr, Gayloss— 

Kitty. Is a man. Madam. 

Mel. i hope so, Kitty, or I would have nothing 
to do with hun, 

Kitty. With all my heart. I have eiven you 
y sentiments upon the oceadon, and shall leave 
you to your own incUnations, 

Mel. Oh, Madam, I am much obliged to you 
,t condescension ; ha, ha, ha ! How- 
so great a regard for your opinion, 
that'had I cettiun proofe of his villany— 

Kitty. Of his poverty you may have a hua- 
ed ; I am sure I have had none to the contrary. 

Md. Oh, there the shoe pinches! [Aside. 

- - " ■■ ■ ■ B the usual 



d one might reasonably expect, i 

delicient one way, that he should malte it up 
in another, \A kiwsldng. 

Mel. See who's at the door. [ExU Kitty,] I 
must be caudons how I hearken loo much to ihia 
girl; her liad opmion of Mr. Gayless seems to 

■ - "-i his disregard of her. 

Re-enter Kitty ami Sharp. 

So, Sharp, have you found your master ■? Will 

things be ready for the ball and entertainment % 

Sharp. To your wishes. Madam. I have just 

>w bespoke the music and the supper, and wait 
'" ladyship's further commands. 






small share of philosophy, may part from it with- 
out much pain or uneasiness. However, Sir, I'll 
convince you, in half an hour, that Mrs. Melissa 
knows nothing of your drcumatances. And I'll 
tell yon wbattoo. Sir; she shant be here to-night, 
and yet you shall marry her to-morrow morning. 

Gay, How. how, dear Sharp ? 

"harp. 'Tis here, here. Sir! warm, ■" 



My compl 






delays will cool it 



■e I'll away to her, and i 



Mel. —J 1- ..,.-. 

jim know I and my company will he with him 
by six ; we design to drink tea, and play at cards, 
before we dance. 

KUty. So shall I and my company, Mr. 
iharu. [Aside. 

, Mighty well. Madam ! 
'r'ythc "' ■"'■■' ~" 

vithout your c 



„ Google 



n.] 



THE LYING VALET. 



37 



Kiity. Mr. Sharp, Madam, is of a very hot 
wnstitutian; ha, ho. hal 

Sluirp. If it had been ever so cool, I have had 
mough to warm me since 1 came from home, I'l 
»ure: but no matter fbr that. [Sigli. 

mi. What d'ye mean 1 

jSAorp. Pray don't ask me Madam ', I beseech 
jou don't : let me change the aoWect. 

Kitty. Insist upon knowing it Madam. My 

cdiioEit; must be eatislied, orl bIibII burst. [Aside. 

Mel, I do insiBt upon knowing; on pain of 
my displeaBuie, tell me ! 

Sharp. If taymaster should know — I mu 
tell you, madam, indeed. 

Mel. I promiae you, upon my hononr, he 
Bhali. 

Sharp. Bnt can your ladyship insure » 
from that ouarterl 

Kitly. Yes, Mr Jackanapes, for any thing you 
can say. 

Mel. I engage for her. 

Sharp. Why then, in short, Madam— I cannot 
tell you. 

MeL Don't trifle wiUi mo. 

Sharp. Then dnce you will have it, Madam, 
I lost my coat in defence of your reputation. 

Mel. In defence of my reputa^on 1 

Sliarp. I will assure you, Madam, I'va suffir- 
ed very much in defence of it; which is more 
than I would have done for my own. 

Mel. Pr'jthce eipkun. 

Sftarp. In short, Madam, you was seen, about 
a month ago, to make a visit to my master, alone. 

Mel. Afooe ! my servant vras with mo. 

Sharp. What, Mrs. Kitty! So much the 
worse ; for she was looked upon as my property 
and I was brought in guilty, as well as you ani 

KUty, Whatyour property, jackanapes' 

Mel. What is all this { 

Skaip. Why, madam, as I came out but now 
to midte preparation for you and your companj 
to-night, Mrs. Pryabout, the attorney's wile ai 
next door, calls to mo ; " Harkye, follow !" sayi 
she, " do you and year modest master know thai 
my husband stiall indict your liouse, at the nexi 
parish meeting, for a nuisance V 

Mel. Anmsancel 

Sharp, I siud so—" A nuisance ! I believe nom 
in the neighbourhood hve with more decencv am 
regularity than I and my master;'* as is really the 
case. — "Decency and regularity !" cries she, with 
a sneer — " why. Sirrah, does not my window look 
into your master's iied-chamber? And did not 
he bring in a certain lady, such a day 1" describing 
you, Madam, — " And did not I see " 

Mel. Seel O scandalous 1 Whati 

Sharp. Modesty requires my silence, 

Mel, Did not you contradict her 1 

Sharp. Contradict herl Why, I told her 
was sure she Ued: "for zounds!" said I, for 1 
could not help swearing, " I am bo well convinced 
of the lady's and my master's prudence, that I 



would certainly have dra' 
Mel, What^ did yon 






' nothing else f Did 



Sharp. She awoie to such things, that I could 
do nothing butswearand call names: upon which, 
out bolts her husband upon me, with a fine taper 
crab in liis hand, and fell upon mo witii sueh 



violence, that, being half deliiioua I made a full 
confession. 

Mel. A full confession I What did you confess t 

Sharp. That my master loved fornication ; 
that you had no averaon to it; that Mrs. Kitty 
was 8 bawd, and your humble servant a pimp. 

Kiltv. A bawd I a bawd ! Do I look like a 
bawd. Madam 1 

ShaTp. And so. Madam, in the scuffle, my 
coal was torn to [neces, as well as your reputation. 

Mel And so you joined to make me infamous! 

Sharp. For heaven's sake, Madam, what could 
I do 1 His proa& fell so thick upon me, ss wit- 
ness my head, [iS'iouw his liead, plastered,'^ that 
1 would have given up all the reputations tn the 
kingdom rather than have my brains beat to a 

Mel, Very well! — But I'll he revenged. And 
did not you tell your master of this 1 

Sharp. Tell him ! Wo, madam. Had I toM 
him, his love is bo violent for you, that he would 
certainly have murdered half the attorneys in 
town by this time. 

Mel. Very well !— But I'm resolved not to go 
to your master's to-night. 

Sharp, Heavens, and my impudence be prais- 
ed ! [Aside. 

Kitty. Why not. Madam"! If you are not 
guilty, face your accusers. 

Sharp. Oh, the devil ! ruined agiunl [Aside. 
To be sure, face 'em by all means. Madam: 
they can but he abusive, and break the windows 
a httle. Besides, Madam, I have thought of a 
way to make this aS'air quite diverting to you : I 
have a fine blimderbuss, charged with half a 
hundred slugs, and my master has a delicate, 
large Swiss broad-sword : and between us, Madam, 
we shall so pepper and slice 'em, that you will 
die with laughing, 

Mel. What, at murder 1 

Kitty. Don't ftar, Madam, there will be no 



besides in these sort of skirmishes, there are never 
more than two or three killed : for, supposing they 
bring tlie whole body of militia upon us, down 
but with a brace of them, and away fly the rest 

Mel. Persuade me ever so much, I wont go i 
that 'b my resolution. 

Kitty. Why then, I'll toll yon what. Madam ; 



it to g 



supper, 



suppose the supper was to come to you : 'tis great 
pity such great preparations as Mr, Sharp has 
made should be thrown away. 

Sharp, So it is, as you say, Mrs. Kitty ; but 
1 can immediately run back and unbespeak what 
I have ordered ; Us soon done. 

Mel. But then what excuse can I send to yomt 
masterl hell be very uneasy at my not coming. 

Sharp. Oh terribly so l—But I have it : I'll tell 
him that you were suddenly taken with the va- 
pours, or qualms, or ■ ' * '---- ■--■--- 

afel. rii leave it i 
apolt^y ; and there 

Sharp. Half-a-guinea !-.'TiB so long ance I 
had any thing to do with money, that I scarecly 
know the current coin of my own country. Oh, 
Sharp, what talents hast thou I to secure thy 
master, deceive his mistress, out-he her chamber- 
maid, and yet be paid for thy honesty.^But my 



r,l^,OOgLC 



THE LYING VALET. 



[aptb 



joj will discover me. [Aside.] Madam, you have 
elemally fixed Timotliy Sharp, your mosl obedi- 
ent, humble servant.— Oh, the delights of impu. 
dence otul a good understanding ! 

[Aside, and exit 

Kilty. Ha, ha, ha! Was there ever such a 
lying varlet t with hi» slugs and his broad-swoids, 
his attorneys and broken boads and nonsense 1 — 
Well, Madam, are yoQ satisfied now 1 Do jou 
want more proofe f 

Mel. Of your modesty I doi but I find you 
are resolved to give me no: 

Kitly. Madam I 

" ' ' e through joi 



my op 






hadm 



Titbr. 



ittle mean artifice : 
in Mr. Gaylcss in 
It paid you for eer- 



KUty-. Payme,Madi ... . 

little occasion to be angry with Mr. Gayiess for 
nol paying me, when, I Wlieve, 'lis his general 

Mel. "TialalEe! He's a gentleman, and a man 
of honour ; and you are — 
Kitty. Not in lave, I tbank heaven I 

Mel. You are a fool. 

Kitty. I have been in love, but I'm much wiser 

Mel. Hold your tongue, impertinence ! 

Kitty. That's the severest tiling she has said 
yet. [Aside. 

Mel. Leave me. 

Kiili/. Oh, this lave, this love, is the devil t 

[Exit. 

Mel. We discover our weakness to our servants, 
make them our confidents, put 'em upon an equa- 
lity with us, and so they become our advisers. 
Sharp's behaviour, though I seemed to disregard 



Re-enler Kitty, 

Kitly. May I apeak, Madam 1 

Mel. Don't bo a fool. What do you want 1 

Kitty. There is a servant, just come out of 
the country, says he belongs to Sir William Gay- 
less, and has got a letter ibr you, Irom his master, 
upon very urgent business.- 

Mel. Sir William Gayless ! What can this 
mean^ Where is the man ^ 

Kitty. In the little parlour. Madam. 

Mel. I'll go to him.— My heart flutters strange- 
ly. [Exit. 

Kitty. woman, woman, foolish woman I 
She'll certainly have this Grayless : nay, were she 
aa well convinced of his poverty as I am, she'd 
have him. Here is she going to throw away 
fifteen thousand pounds— upon whatl He's a 
■nan and that's all ; and, heaven knows, mere man 
is Bul a small consolation now-a-days ! [Exit. 

ACT II. 

SCENE L 

Enter Gstless and Sharp. 

Ouy. Pr'ylhee be serious, Sharp: hast thou 

really succeeded T 

Sharp. To our wisJies. Sir, In short, I have 
managol the business with such skill nnd dei- 



Icrily, thatni 
raeity are suspecu^u. 

Guy. But now hast thou excused me from the 
ball and entertainment 'i 

fSWtj. Beyond expectation. Sir. But in 
that particular, I was obliged to have recourse to 
truth, and declare the realsitaation of your affairs, 
I told her we had so long disused ourselves to 
dres^ng either dinners or suppers, that I was 
afraid we should be but awkwani in our prepara- 
tions. In short, Sir, at that instant a cursed 
gnavriuB seized niy stomach, that I could not help 
tellins her, that both you and myself seldom made 
a good meal, now-a-daya, once in a quarter of a 

Oay. Hell and cmifusion I have you betrayed 
me, viUaiu t Did you not tell me, this moment, sb^ 

Sharp. No more she did. Sir, till I told her. 

Gay. Very well !— And was this your skill and 
dexterity 1 

Sharp. I was goins to tell you, but you wont 
hear reason. My meianclioly fece and piteous 
narra^n bad sucn an effect upon her generous 
bowels, that she freely forgives all that's past. 

Gay. Does she Sharp? 

Sharp, Yes, and desires never to see your fiice 
again ; and, as a further consideration for so doing, 
she has sent you half-a-guinea. 

[iS^ws l/ie money, 

day. What do you mean ? 

Sharp. To spend it, spend it, Sir, and regale. 

Gay. Viilain, you have undone me ! 

Sharp. What, by bringing you money, when 

„ „. .t J fatihing m the whole world 1 

to make you happy again, II] 
keep it mysell; and wish somebody would take 
it in their head lo load me ivlth such misfortunes. 
[Puts lip the money. 

Gay. Doyou laugh at me,rascal 1 

Sharp. Who deserves more to be laughed at t 
ha, ha, na! — Never for thefiiture. Sir, dispute the 
success of my negociations, when even you, who 
know me so well, can't help swallowing my hook. 
Why, Sir, I could have played with you back- 
wards aud forwards, at the end of my line, til! I 
had put your senses into such a fermentation, 
that you should not have knovm, in an hour's 
'' ne, whether you was a fish or a man. 

Gay. Why what is all this you have been leU- 
mgrne' 

Sharp. A downright lie, from begmnmg to 

Gay. And have yon really excused me to her 1 

Sharp. No, Suibut Ihavegotthishalf-guinea 

make her excuses to you ; and instesS of a 

confederacy between you and me to deceive her, 

she thinks she has brought me over to put the 

" «eit upon yon. 

Gay. Thou excellent fellow. 

Sharp. Don't lose time, but slip out of the house 
immediately — the back vray, I believe, will be the 
safest for you — and to her as ftst as you can ; 
pretend vast surprise and concern that her indis- 
position ht " '"-"■ 

Gay. But what shall we do. Sharp 1 Here's 
her maid again. 

srp. The devil she is! 1 wish Icould poison 



ic.i,d=, Google 



THE LYING VALET. 



Enler KiTT 



Kitty, Your door was open, so I did not i 
upon ceremony. 

Gay. I am sorty to liear your mistress is taken 
so BUddetiW — 

Kitty. Vapours, vapours only. Sir ; a few ma- 
trimonial omens, that 's all : but I suppose Mr. 
Sharp has made her excuses. 

Gay. And tells me I can't have the pleasure of 
her company to-night. I bad made a small pre- 
paration ; but 'tis no matter: Sharp shall go to 
the rest of the company, and let them know 'tis 

Eilly. Not for the world, Sir : my mistress was 
sonsibfe you most have provided for her. and the 
rest of the company ; eo she is resolved, though 
she can't, the other ladies and gentlemen shall 
partake of your entertainment. — She 'a very good- 
natured. 

Sharp. T had better run and let 'em know 'tis 
deferred. [Going. 

Kitty. [SJopB him.] I have been with 'em 3- 
ready, and told them my mistress in«st3 upon 
their coming ; and they have already promised to 
lie here: so pray don't be under any apprehensions 
that your preparations will be thrown away. 

Gay. But as i can't have her company, Mn. 
Kitty, 'twill be a great pleasure to me, and a 
greater compliment to her, to defer our mirth i be- 
sides, I can't enjoy any tluiig at present, and she 
not partake of it. 

KUty. Oh, no, to be sure ; but what can I do 1 
My mistress will have it so ! and Mrs. Gadabout, 
and the rest of the company, will be here in a 
few minutes : there are two or three coachfuls of 
■era. 

IStarp. Then my master must be ruined, in 
Birite of my parts. [Aside. 

Oay. "fisail over, Sharp, {Apart. 

Skarjt. I know it^ Sir. [Apari, 

Gay. I shall go distracted ! what shall I do 7 

[Apart. 

Sharp. "Why, Sir, as our rooms are a httle out 
of furniture at present, take 'em into the captain's, 
that kMlgee here, and set 'em down to cards: if 
he shouM come in the mean time, I'll excuse you 
lo him. [Apart. 

Kitty. I have disconcerted their affiirs. I find, 
I'll have some sport with them. [Aside.] Pray, 
Mr. GayloBB, don't order too many things : they 
only male yon a friendly visit ; the more ceremo- 
ny, you know, the leas welcome. Pray Sir, let 
ine entreat you not to be profuse. Hi can be 

sent me on purpose. While Mr. Sharp is doing 
the bosiness without doors, I may be empk)yed 
within. If you'll lend me the keys of your ade- 
board, III dispose of your plate to the best advan- 
tage. [To Shjhp. 

Sharp. Thank you Mrs. Kitty ; but it is dis- 
posed of already. [A knocking. 

Kilty, Bless me the company 's come I I'll go 

to the door and conduct Ihem into your presence, 

[Exit. 

^arp. If you'd conduct them into a norse- 
pond, and wait on them there yourself, we should 
be more obliged to you. 

Gay. I can never support this I 

Sftorp, Rouse your spuits, and put on an sir 
of gayrty, and I dont despair of bnnging you off 



Gay. Your words have done it effectually. 



and Mks, Tki 
3fri, G. Ah, my dear Mr, Gayless I 

[Kisses kirn. 

Gay, My dear widow 1 [Kisses her. 

Mrs. G. We are come to give you joy, Mr. 

Gayless; and here's Mr, Guttle come l« give 

yon joy. — Mr, Gayless^ Justice Guttle, 

Sharp. Oh, destruction ! one of the quorum. 

Just, G, Hem ! though I had not the honour 
of any personal knowledge of you, yet, at the iu- 
etigation of Mrs, Gadabout, I have, without any 
previous acquaintance with yon. thrown aside all 
ceremony, to let you know that I joy to hear the 
solemnization of your nuptials is so near at hand. 

Gay. Sir, though I cannot answer you with 
the same elocution, however, Sir, I thank you 
with the same sincerity. 

M-s, G, Mr, and Mrs. Trippet, Sir; the pro- 
perest lady in the world for your purpose, for 
she'll dance for tbur-and-tweiity hours together, 

TWy. My dear Charles, 1 am very angry with 



^ ago eradicated all my anti-matrimo- 
nial principles, 

Kitly. Pray ladies, walk into the next room ; 
Mr. Sharp can't lay his cloth till you are set down 

Mrs, G, One thing I had quite forgot ; Mr. 
Gayless, my nephew, who you never saw, will be 
in town from Prance presently ; so I left word to 
send him here immediately, to make one. 

Gay. You do me honour, Madam. 

FSftorp. Do the ladies choose cards or supper 
firsti 

Gay, Supper 1 What does the fellow mean 1 

Just. a. Oh, the supper by all means ; for I 
have eat nothing to siguify since dinner, 

Siarp. Nor 1, since last Monday was a fort- 
night. [Aside. 

Gay. Pray, ladies, walk ir'" '' " 



Sharp g 



eady for sapper, and call tl 



Sharp. Well said, master. 

Mrs. G. Without ceremony, ladies. 

\E3!ewn,t Gjvleeb. Trippet, and Ladies. 
; and let her know 
pearance. 
[Aside^ and exit. 

Jusi. G, Pray Mr. — what's your name, don'l 
be long with supper :^but harkye, what ca ' ' 
in the mean til ' 

and some good . , _ _ . 

that way tiU supper's ready. 

Sharp, Or suppose. Sir, you was to take a nap 
till then ; there 'a a very easy couch in that closet. 

Jvst. G. The best thing in the world I I'll taks 
your advice ; but be sure to wake me when supper 
IS ready. , [Exit. 

Sharp, Pray heaven, you may not wake till 
then !— What a line dtuation my master is in at 
present 1 I have promised him my assistance ; but 
his aff^rs are in so desperate a way, that 1 am 
afraid 'tis out of my skill to reeover them, "Well, 
" Fools have fortune," says an old proverb, aiwj a 



r,l^,OOgLC 



THE LYING VALET. 



Re-enter Gatlees. 

Gay. Well, Sharp, I have eet them down 

.__j_ __j .!._. i_ I ^g DroDosel 

all 

probahiUty may succeed. The good citii 
overloaded with his last meal, m laBng a iia] 
that closet, in order to get him an ap[>eUte ibr 

jours. I'll pick hia powiot, and providt 

supper with the booty. 

Gay. MonatjoDs ! for, without conetdcring the 
vilUny of it, the danger of waking him njakes it 
impracticablo. 

^larp. If he wakes, I'll smother him, and la; 
his death to indigestion ; a very common deatt 
among the justices. 

Gay. Pr'ythee, be serioua ; we hate no time t< 
lose. Can you invent nothing to drive them oui 
of the house "i 

Sharp, I can fire it. 

Gay, Shame and confuaon so perplex roe, I 
ot give myself a moment's thoucht 

her nephe' 

Gay. SiiBum. 

Sharp. Say no mom, but in to your company. 
If I don't send them out of the house for the 
night, I'll at least iiighten their slomachs away ; 
and if this stratagem iails, I'll relinquish pohticai 
and think my understanding no better than my 
neighbours. 

Say. How shall I reward Ihee, Sharp 1 

Sharp. By your alence and obedience. Away 
to your company. Sir, [Exit GiTLEss.] Now, 
dear Madam Fortune, Ibr once open your eyes, 
and behold a poor qn&rtonate man of jiartB ad- 
dressing you. Now is votu' time to convuic© your 
foes you are not that bund, whimsical whore they 
take yoa for ; but let them see, hj your assianng 
me, that men of sense, as well as tools, are 9ome- 
fiivour and pp 
/ cries mit] Help, help, help, 
master ! gentlemen, ladies ! murder, fire, brim- 
stone ! h^p, help, help ! 
Be-enier Qaylebs, Trippet, and the Ladies, 

leiih Cards in theo" hands, and Sharp eniers 

rujiniii^, and meels ikem. 

Goi/. What 'a the matter 1 

Sharp. Matter, Sir ! If you dont run this mi- 
nute with that gentleman, this lady's nephew will 
oe murdered, I am sure 'twas he; he was set 
upon at the comer of the street by four | he has 
killed two ; and if you don't make haste, he'll he 
either mm^ered or took to prison. 

Mrs, G. For heaven's sake, gentlemen, run to 
hia assistance. How I tremble lor MeUW ! this 
frolic oJ her's may be fatal. [Aside. 

Gay, Draw, Sn, and follow me. 

[Exeunt all but Sharp. 

Be-enter Jdbtice Guttle, disordered, as from 

Juai. Q. What noise and confusion is this T 
Sharp, Sir, there's a man murdered in the 

Jvsl, G. Is that ain Zounds I I was afraid 
you had thrown the supper down. A plagoe of 
your ncnse ! I shan't recover my stomach this half 



ale Ihey wi 
I brJievi 



Be-enler Gayless, Trippet, and IUhs. Gada- 
-ROVT, wUh Melissa, m btfys' clothes, dressedi'i 
the French manner, 

Mrs, G. Well, hut my dear Jemmy, you are 
not hurt, sure 1 

Mel. A litUe, with riding post only. 

Mrs, Q, Mt. Sharp alaimej us ailj with an 
account of your bdng eet upon by tour men; 
that you had killed two, and was attacking the 
other when he came away; and when we met 
you at the door, we were running to your rcBcoe. 

Mel. I had a smaJl rencounter wiUi half a 
dozen villains; but findii 
wise enough to take to 
scratched some of them. 

[Lays her hand to her sword. 

Sharp. Hia vamty has saved my credit. I 
have a thought come into my head may prove to 
our »dvantage, provided Monsieur's ignorance 
bears any proportion to his impudence. [Aside. 

Mrs. G. Now my fiTcht is over, let me intro- 
duee you, my dear, lo Mr. Qayless. Sir, this is 
my nephew. 

Gay. Sir, I shall be proud of your friendship. 



quaiuted in a little lune, 

J'oat. G, Pray, SiTj what news m FraOLe ) 
S&l. Faith, very httle that I know ol in the 

, ilitical way ; I had no time to spend among the 



ihy enough to resist their BoIicitationB, 
'ou tnke mef [Apart to Gatiehs. 

Goy, Yes, to be a most incorrigible fop {Aside '\ 
Ideath ! this puppy's impertinence is an addition 
I my misery. [Apart to Sharp. 

Mel. Poor Gayless ! to what shifts is he re- 
iced ! I cannot bear to see him much longer in 
this condition ; I shall discover myself 

G. Not before the end of the play ; be- 

rades, the more his pain now, the greater his plea- 

"re when relieved fium it. [Apart, 

Trip. Shall we return to our cards ^ I have 

wne prendre here, and must inast yen play it 



Ladies. With all 
Mel, AloHS done. 

[As they go 






, shall I beg leave to speak with 



Mel, What between here and Dover, do you 
leanl 

Sharp, No, Sir, within twenty or thirty yards 
of this house, 
Mel. You are drunk, fellow. 
Sharp, I am undone, Sir, but not drunk, I'll 

Mel. What is all this ? 

Sharp. I'll tell you, Su- : a little while ago my 
aster sent me out, t^ change a note of twenty 
pounds i but I unfortunately hearing a noise in 
the street of "damme, Sirl" and clashing of 
swords, and ''xaseal" and " murder!" I runs up 
to the place, and saw four men upon one ; and 
having heard you was a mettlesome young gen- 
tleman I immediately conciuded it must he you 



r,l^,0(1gLC 



THE LYING VALET. 



BO ran back lo call my master ; and when I 
lo look for the note, to change it, I found it |^ . , 
either stole or lost : and if I don't get the monej 
immediately, I shall certainly be turned out '' 
mj place, and lose my character. 

Mel. 1 shall laugh in hia fate. [Aaide.} 
III apeak lo your master about it, and he will E 
give you at my intercession. 

Sharp. Ah, Sir ! you don't know my mastei 

JUel. I'm very Uttle acquainted with him, but 
1 have heard he 's a very good natured man. 

Sharp. 1 have heard so (oo, but I have felt i 
otherwise ; he lias so much goi>d nature, that if 
could compound for one broken head a day, 
should think myself very well off , 

Mel, Are you serious, friend 1 

f^uirp. Loobye, Sir, I take you for a nan o 
honour ; there is something in your face that i 
generous, open, and masculine; you don't lool 
like a fappish, effeminate tell-tale ; so I'll ventur 
to trust you. See here. Sir, these are the efTeds 
of my master's good nature. [Shtrvm kis head. 

Met. Matchless impudence ! [Aside.] Why do 
you live with him then, after such usage 1 

Sharp. He's worth a great deal of money; 
and when he's drunk, which is commonly once 
a day, he 's very free, and wilf give me any thing ! 
but T design to leave him when he's married, ter 
all that. 

Mel, Is he going to be married then 1 

Sharp. Tomorrow, Sir; and between youand 
1, he'll meet with his match, both for humour and 
something else too. 

MeL What,3he drinks too 1 

Sharp, Damnably, Sir ; but mum. You mnst 
know this enttrtdnment was designed for Madam 
to-night; but she got so very gay after dinner, that 
she could not walk out of her own house ; so her 
maid, who was half gone too, came here with an 
excuse, that Mrs. Melissa had sot the vapours ; 
and so she had indeed violently, here, here, Sir. 
fPointe to his head, 

Mel. This is scarcely to be borne. [.Asiife.] 
Melissa I i have heard of her ; they say she 's 
very whimHcal. 

Sharp, A^ery woman,andpleaseyoarhonour; 
and between you and I, none of the mildest and 
■wisest of her sex. But to retnrn. Sir, lo the 
twenty pounds. 

Mel. I am surfnised, yoa, who have got so 
much money in his service, should be at a loss 
for twenty pounds, to save your bones at this 

Sharp, I have put all my money out at inter- 
est ; 1 never keep above five pounds by me ; and 
if youl honour wo'ild lend me the other fifteen, 



my note for i 

Mel, Somebody's at the 

Sharp. I can give very , 






[A knocking, 

[A knocking. 
[A knocking. 
[A knocking. 



Mel. Don't let the people wi 

Sharp. Ten ponnds Wl do. 

Me!. AUez vous en. 

Sharp. Pile, Sir. 

Mel. Je ne pais pas. 

Sharp. Je ne pais pas, I find we shan't un- 
derstand one another; I do but lose time; and 
if I had any thought, I might have known these 
young fops return from thar travels generally 
with as little money as improvement. [Mxit, 

Mel. Ha, ha, ha I What lies does this fellow 
invent, and what rogueries does be commit, for 



his master's serivca. There never sure was a 
more Mthfoi servant to his master, or a greater 
rogUH lo the rest of mankind. But here he comes 
again. The plot thickens. I'll in and observe 
Gayless. [Exit. 

Be-enter Sharp, before several Persons leit/i 

Dishes in their hands, and a Cook, drunk. 

Sharp. Fortune, I thank thee ; the most luck^ 
accident 1 [jlsufe.] This way, gentlemen, this 

Cook, i am afraid 1 liave mistook the house. 
Is this Mr. Treatwell'sl 

Sharp, Tl\e same, the same. What, don't you 

Cook. Know you ?— Are you sure there was 
a supper bespoke here 'i 

Sharp. Yes ; upon my honour, Mr. Cook : the 
company is in the next room, and must have gone 
witliout had not you brought it. I'll draw a 
table. I see you have brought a cloth with you ; 
but you need not have done that, for we have a 
very good stock of linen— at the pawnbroker's. 
[AHd^, and exit ; but rettbms immediately, 
draining in a table,] Come, come, my boys, be 
quick. The company begin te be very uneasy ; 
but I knew my old Mend Lickspit here would 
not fail us. 

Cook, Licksrat I I am no ftiend of yours, so I 
desure less &miliarity. — Lickspittool 
Re-enter Gayless. 

Gay. What is all this ? [Apart to Sharp. 

Sharp. Su", if the sight of the supper is offen- 
sive, I can easily ha»e it removed. f Apart. 

Gay. Pi^thee, eiplain thyself Sharp. [Apart. 

Sharp, Some of our noighbonrs, I suppose, 
have bespoke this supper; but the cook has drank 
away his memory, forgot the house, and brought 
it here : however. Sir, if you dishbe it, I'll tell 
him of bis mistake, and send bjtn about his bu- 
' less. [Apart. 

Gay. Hold, hold, necessity obliges me against 

I inclination to favour the cheat, and feest at 

1 neighbour's expense. [Apart. 

Cook, Hark you, friend, is that your master 1 

(roSHAHF, 

Sharp. Ay, and the best master in the world. 

Cook, I'll speak to liim then.— Sir, 1 have, ac- 
cording to your commands, dressed as genteel a 
supper as my art and your price would ^mit of. 
[7-0 Gat 

Sharp. Good again. Sir ! 'tis paid for. 

[Apart to Ga r. 

Gay. I don't in theieast question your abilities, 
Mr. Cook j and I am obliged to you for your care. 

Cook, Sir, you are a gentleman ; and if you 
would but look over the bill, and approve it, yos 

ill over and above return the obligation. 

[Pulh out a Mil. 

Sharp. Oh, the devil ! 

Gay. [Looks on th(. 6M,] Very weL, I'll send 

y man lo pay you to-morrow. 

Cook. I'll spare him that trouble, and take it 

ith me. Sir. I never work but for ready money. 

Gay.W] 

Sharp, Then yon wont have our custom. 
[Aside.] My master is busy now, friend. Do 
you Ihink he wont pay you 1 

Cook. No matter what I think ; either mymeat 

my money. 

iS?iBrp, 'Twill be very ill-convenient for him to 
pay you to-night. 



lc.l,dr,,l^.OOglC 



THE LYING VALET 



Cs.'ft. Then I'm sfraH it wiH be ill-convenient 
to pay me to-morrow ; so, d'ye hear 

Re-enter Mslissa. 

Qay, Pr'jthea, be advised. — 'Sdeath, I shall be 
discovered ! [TaJces Ihe Coos aside. 

Mel. What 'a the matter? [To Sharp. 

Sharp. The cook has not quite answered mj 
maBter 's expectations about the supper, Sir, and 
he 'b a little angr; at him ; that 's all. 

Mel. Come,come, Mr. GaylesS|don'tbeanea8ji 
a bachelor cannot be supposed to have things in 



them 






Cook. But 

Mel. What does this drunken Ibol say 

Cook. That I will have mj money, and I wont 
Btay till to-morrow, and and 

Sftmy. Hold, hold! what are you doing? are 
JOU maJi ? [Runs and slope kis matitk, 

Mel. What do you slop the man's breath for ? 

Sharp. Sit, he was going (o call you names. 
Don't be abusive, cook | the gentleman is a man 
of honour, and said nothing to you. Pray be pa- 



:. I will hav 






[Still holding.] Why, I WJI you, foo!, 
you mistslie the gentleman ; ne is a mend of 
my tnaster'a, and has not said a word to you, — 
Pray, eood Sir, eo into the next room. The fel- 
low'Bdrunk, and ta^B you for another. [TuMe- 
1,188*,] You'll repent this when yoo are sober, 
friend.— Pray, Sir, don't slay to hear his hnperti- 

Gay. Pray, Sir, walk In. He's below your 
snger. [ Tb Melisha. 

Mel. Damn the rascal '. what does he mean by 
affionting me 1 — Let the scoundrel go ; I'll poUsh 
his brutality, I warrant you. Here 's the best 

his svtord.] Let him go, I say. 









Tour escat 
Cook, i 



: finely n< 
IS last as you can. He 's the mc 
mettlesome man in all England, 
up, he could eat you.— 






-Eat mi 



He'll lind B 



w.— Get 
Why, if 

damned 



le here ; let 
ymx. [Takes CooE aside. 

Re-enter Kitty. 
Kiifg. Gad's me ! la supper on the table alrea- 
dy?— -Sir, pray defer it for a few minutes; my 
mistress is much better, and will be here immedi- 

Gay. Will she, mdfed? Bless me, I did not 
Mipect— but however — Sharp 1 
yCitty. What success, Madam 1 

m — I (g Melissa. 



[Apart to 
pain and pcrpbixity, I cs ' 
Kitty. Ay, ana that holding o 



■uin of 



-p. I have pacified the cook ; and if you 
ooi but borrow twenW pieces of that young prig, 
til may go well. You may succeed, though I 
■ould not. Remember what I told you, — About 
it straight, Sir. [Apart to Gayless. 

Qau Sir, sa, I beg to speaE a word with you. 
1 T^ Melisea,] My servant. Sir, tells me ho has 
!iad the misfortune, Sir, to lose a note of mine of 



of you, Shr, the obligation w 

Gay. How may f oblige yoiL oir i 

Mel. You are to be married, I hear, (o Melissa i 



Gay. Do you call this a small favour. Sir t 
Afti. A mere trifle. Sir, Breaking of contracts, 
suing for divorces, committing adultery, and such 
like are all reckoned trifles now-a-daya ; and 



thisaJ 



irl 



Oh, Sir, you must know I hare a very 

great regard for Melissa, and indeed she for me; 
and, by the by, 1 have a most despicable opinion 
of yon; for, entre noua, I take you, Charles, lo 
be a very great scoundrel. 

't look fit...., , ^,.- j__. 

shall be through your 
body else Ln the snapping of a finger. 
Gay. V\i be as quick as yoo, riflain, 

i Draws, and makes at Melissa. 
old, murder ! you'll kill my mis- 
tress — the young gentleman, I mean. 

Gay. Ah ! her mistrcM ! [Drops his sirior<i 
Sharp. How ! M elissa ! Nay, then drive away, 

Enter all the Compmiy, laughing. 



Kitty. Your humble servant, good Mr, Politi- 
cian, [To Sharp.] This is, gentiemen and ladies, 
the most celebrated and ingenious Timothy Sharp, 
schemer-genera! and redoubted squire to the most 
renowned and fortunate adventurer, Charles 
Gayless, knight of the woefu! countenance — ha, 
ha, ha 1 — Oh that dismal face, and more dismal 



his last agonies, 

Mel. Now, IWr. Gayless!— What, not a word? 
Yon are sensible I can be no stranger (o your 
misfortunes, and I might reasonably expect an 
eicnse for your ill treatment of me. 

Gay. No, Madam, silence is my only refuge ; 
for to endeavour to vindicate my crimes, would 
show a greater want of virtue, than even the 

Mel. Oh, Gayless ! 'twas poor to hnpose up<» 
a woman, and one that loved you too. 

Gay. Oh, most unpardonable ; but my nece*. 

Sharp. And mine, Madam, were not (o be 
matched, I'm sure, o'this ade starving, 

Mel. His tears have softened me at once, 
[^stde,] Your necessities, Mr, Gayless, with such 
real contrition, are too powerful motives not te 
affect the breast already prejudiced in your &- 
vour, — You have suffered too much alrejidy for 
your extravagance ; and as I take part in your 



r,l^,OOgLC 



'M 



THE LYING VALET. 



BUJierjnga, 'tis easing myself la relieve yoi 
know, therefore, all that 's pet 1 freely forpTe. 

Gay. You cannot mean it, sure ! 1 ani lost i 
wonder I 

Mel. Prepare yourself (at more wonder. Yo 
have another fnend in masquerade here. 



that fac 



Sir? 



ot your 



. . aster ; what 1 yoii have 
friend. Dies, ss you uaeii to call me 'i 

Gay. More wonder indeed ! Don't you Kve with 
my ftiher"! 

Mel. Just after your liopeful acrvant there had 
toil me, comes this man from Sir William, with 
a letter to me ; upon which (^ng by that wholly 
coniinced of your necessitous condition ) I in- 
vented, by the help of Kitty and Mrs. Gadabout, 
this little plot, in which your fnend Dick there 
has acted nuraclea, resolving to tease you a little, 
that jaa might have a jnealer rehsh ^r a happy 
turn in your aflairs. Now, Sit, read that letter, 
and complete your jay. 

Oay. [Reads,] Madam, I am father to the iwi- 
Jbrtunate •/oung man, who, Ihear, by a friend 
tf mine (that by my desire has been a cantiTiual 
^n/ upon kim) is making his addresses to you. ^ 
he 13 BO happy aa to make himaeif agreeable to 
JfoiL, whose eharacter laiit, charmed tBiih, I shall 
awn ftim viith joy fbr my son, and forget hie 
Jbrmer follies. — / am, madain, your most humble 

KTBOlU, WiLLtiM GlYLESE. 

P. S.~I viill be s. 
gratulale his reformt 
Oh, Melissa, this is loo much t Thus let me 
iliow my thanks and gratitude ; for here 'ds only 
due. [Kjieelsi she raises him. 

Sharp. A reprieve 1 a reprieve ! a reprieve ! 

KUly, 1 have been. Sir, a most bitter enemy to 
yau ; Nit «ace you are likely ta be a little mare 



m iTvysey to ton 



dient friend, a .... 

Gay. Oh, Mrs. Pry, 1 have been too much in- 
dulged with forgiveness myself, not to fo^ive 
lesser oflences in other peopte. 

Sharp. Well then. Madam, ance my maBter 

has vouchsafed paidon to your handmaiif Kitty, 1 

hope you'll not deny it to his footman Timothy. 

Met. Pardon! for what 1 

Sharp, Only for telling you about ten thousancl 

lies. Madam ; and, among the rest, insinuating 

that your lacivship would 

Mel. I understand you ; and can forgive any 

thing Sharp, that was designed for theservka of 

— - master ; and if Pry and you will follow our 

npio, I'll give her a small fortune, as a reward 

loth your fidelities. 

harp. 1 &uicy, Madam, twould be better to 

e the small fortune between us, and keep us 

both single ; for as we shall live in the same house, 

-T all probability we may taste the comforts of 

latrimony and not be troubled with its inconve- 

iences. What say you, Kitty t 

Kitty. Do you hear. Sharp ; before you talk of 

the comforts of matrimony, take the comfbrts of 

good dinner, and recover your flesh a little j do 

puppy. 

SluiTp, The devil backs her, that 's certain , 
and I am no match for her at any weapon. 

Gay. Behold, Melissa, aa dncere a convert as 
er truth and beauty made. The wild, impelD- 
s sallies of my youth are now blown over, and 
moat pleaang calm of perfect happiness sue- 

Thns .*;tna's flames the verdant earth consume 
But milder heat makes drooping nature bloom; 
~- - l-tuous love aflbnls us springing joy, 
Whilst vicious pasMons, as they burn, destroy. 

'Kreunt 



, Google 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER: 



A TRAOEDX. 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY ARTHUR MURPHY. 











REMARKS. 








Thi 


tragadrwas produced: al Driir 
I Um bouse of B colebraiel pai 


LaBein.im Ajric 
lei, wJleidnlbo.csnl 


lira of.tho Roman Oistllr, wbicb, Mr. Mjonibr " 
nolbui^iB inloUaraai"ThepiouBli-4iid,or«tari 






peeled 


be idea lo. 


ur author. 












hopa, o( a 




nts recorded 


in history, that flUal 


iely.onwhic 


b tbe &bie of iliis p) 


yiafo 


unded, aa 






at affieting 


-yefilwaBoneoflbe 


mosthaiaido 


s fur a dramatist to 


adort 






n cDinpleK 


skill a 


uld bHve gi 


Hsilothiseingiilor™ 


Tiirenceeffijc 


ualfhiM, joined 10 




jBt*t»M 


ntUi 




oit,Mr 


Murphy ba 


oYinwdxhamosttBi 


ctjucl^enl, 







Phooion 

GnSEE Herald, 
Calippub 
Greek Solimgiu 
Officer 



DRAMATIS PERSON.*:. 
As onginally acted t?!2 



Wr Barrw 
ah Reddtih 



Sir J Atdan 


Mr HuTit. 








Mr 




Mr 


Wheeler 



Mr Poael 
Mr HoUiad. 
Mr J Wdlack. 
Mr RPMKp*. 
Mr Einagton. 
Mr Carr 
Mr WMegrMt. 



ACT I. 
SCENE I. 
Enler Melantbon ntid Philotas. 
ml- Yet, a moment ; hear, Philotas, hear me. 
Phil. No more ; it niQBt not be. 
Mel. Obdurate man! 
Thos will thoa »purn me, when a king iisttets cl, 
A good, a virtnous, venerable Hue, 
The fether of his people, from a throne 
Whioh long with every virtue he adorn i 
Torn bj a ruffian, by a tyrant's hsnd, 



Groans in captivity'? In Ms own palace 
Lives a sequesler'd pria'ner^ Oh ! Philolaa, 
If thou haal not renouno'd humanity. 
Let me behold my sovereign ; once again 
Admit me io hifi presence; let me tee 
My royal master. 

Phil. Urge ihy suit no further; 
Thy words are fruitless; Dion^us" orders 
Forbid access ; he is oar sov'reign ni>w ; 
'Tia his to give the law, mine to obey. 

Mel. Thou canst not mean it ; Ms to give Ihe 






Detested spoiler !-^ua ! 






„Googlc 



IJ 



THK GRECIAN DAUGHTER. 



I fate we forgot Ihs elder DiooyBiuff 
Surnam'd the Tyrant t To Sicilia's throne 
The monster waiied through whole seas ol blood 
Sore groaned the )and beneath hi9 iron rod, 
Till roua'd at length, Esander came from Gteeoe, 
Like &Bed<Mn'a genias came, and sent the tyrant, 
StnRi'd irf the crown, and to his humble rank 
Once mioe reduc'd, to roam, for vile subsistence, 
Awaml'i^sophist.throQgh thfl realms ol Greece 

Phil Whatt'er his right, to hmi m Syracuse 
All bend the knee , ha the supreme domimon. 
And death and torment wait his sovereign nod 

Me! But soon that power shall cease , behold 
hia walls 
How close encircled by the Grecian bands 
Tlmoieon leads them on ; indignant Lormth 
Sends Tier avenger forth, arrayy in terror 
To hurl amlrition from a throne usurp d, 
And bid ali Sicily resume her rights 

Pkil. Thouwertastatesmanoiice 



Grown dim with age, thy eye pervades no m 
Tiie deep-laid schemns wliich IHonjius plai 
Know, then, a fleet from Carthage even non 
Slems the rough billow | and, ere yonder sni 
That, now declining, seeks Uie western wavi 
Shall to the shades of niaht resign the world 
Thou'lt see the Punic saSs in yonder, bay, 
Whose waters wash the walls of Syracuse. 

Mel. Artthou astranger to Tioioleon'snB 
Xnteht to plan, and circumspect to see 
All j»OBsiblo events, hem-'-- - 



in his c( 



I Your be 






Soari^ siahd* at' bay ; each hoar the strong block- 
Hems him in closer, and ere long ihou'lt view 
Onpreasion's iron rod to fragments shiver'd < 
The good Evander then 

PM. Alas, Evander , 
Will ne'er behold the golden time you look for I 

ML How!notbeholditISay,PhilotaSjSp4k: 
Has the fell tyrant, have bis felon murderers ■- 

Phil: As yet, my friend, Evander lives 

Met. And yet 
Thy dark, half-hinted purpose — lead me to him; 
If thou hast murdered him 

PkU. By heaven, he lives, 

Mel. Then bless me with one tender interview. 
Thrice lias the sun aone down since last these eyes 
Have seen the gopd old king; say, why is this^ 
Wherefore debarred his presence f Thee, Philotag, 
The Irooga obey,. that goard the royal pria'iier; 
Each avenue to thee is .open ; thou 
C^limant, admittance; let me, let me, see him. 
. PkU. &itreat no more ; the soul of Dionysius 
la ever wakefnl ; rent with all Ihe pangs 
That wait on coDsctous guilt. 
-M, But when dun mghi 

PM. Alaa it cannot be : but mark my words. 
Jjct Greece urge on h^ general assault 
Despatch some friend, who may o'crleap the walls 
And tail Timoieon, ibeimod old Evander 
Has liv'd three day^, by Dionysius* drderv 
Lock'd up from evei^ sustenance of nature. 
And hft n6* *eanKd Odt, almosf^Spir^, 

Mel. If anyspark of virtue dwells within thee, 
I*ad me, PhiblBs, lead me to his prison. 

Phil. Thetyrant's.jealouscare.^hmov'dhim 

thenra. , 
Itfei. Ha ! mov^ him, say'st thou 1 
Phil. Al.theniidnight hour, 
Silent cnnvej'd him up the steep ascent. 



To where the elder Dionysius forra'dj 
On the sharp summit of the pointed rock. 
Which overhangB the deep, a- dungeon; drear:. 
Cell within'edl, a tabyrinibof homw,- 
Deepcavern'dinitheiiliff, wlleie niaiif ar wicleh, 
Unseen by mortal eye, has (pman'diinanpiiBh, 



Of hotm massacre. Full oft I've walky. 
When all things lay in sleep and darkness hush'd. 
Ves, oft I've walk'd the lonely suiltai beach. 
And heard the mournful sound of many a corSe 
Pldngld from the rock into the wave beneath, 
That murmurs on the shore. And means he thus 
To end. a monarch's lifel Oh grant my prayer; 
My timely succour may protect his days :. 
The guard is yours-- — 

PkU, Forbear; thou nlead'stin van; 
And though I feel soft pity IhrobKng here. 
Though each emotion prompts the gen'rous deed,. 
I must not yield ; it were assur'd' destruction. 
Farewell, despatch a message to the Greeks; 
.III to my station; now thou^kajow'st the worst, 

' JWet Oh, lost Eiftuiilerl Lost Euphraaatoo! 
How will her gfeiiUe nature, hear the silock 
Of a dear &ther, thus in lingering pan^ 
A prey to fimine, like the veriest wrMch 
Whom the hard hand of misery hath grip'd % 
Tn voir, ahi>'ll .=»o n,;th. i"ipot«nce of sorrow; 



Cal. Whereis the king] 
! Our troojia, that sallied to attack the foe, 
Retire' disordered: to the eastern gate 
The Greeks pursue : Timoieon ndes in blood, 
Arm, arm, and meet their fury. 

mi. To fhe citadel 
Direct thy footsteps : DioiiyEius there 
Marshals a chosen band. 
Coi. Do thou call forth 
Thy hardy vefrans;. haste, or ail is lost ! 

[ExU ; warlike mtisia 
ye just gods, now [- ' 



Now 



dowi 






Euph. War on, ye heroes, 
Yc great asaettors of a monanrfi's cause I 
Let the wild tempest tage. Mehmthon, ha! 
Didst thou not hear the vast tremendous roar I 
Down tumbUng from its base the eastern tower 
Burst on the tyrant's ranks, and on the plain 
Xiies an extended ruin. 

JtHi. StiU new horrors 
Increase each hour, and gather round our heads. 

Eupk. The. glorious tumult lifts my tow'ring 

OncBmatE, Mdanf hon, once agSin, hiy father 
Shall'momit Sicilians throne. 

Afel. Alas! that hour 
Would come with joy to every honest heart ; 
But no such hour in all the rouhd of time, 
I fear the fetes, averse, will e'er lead-on. 

Eupk. And still Meluttbon, still does paie do 

Depress thy spirit ■? Lo! Timoieon comes 



ic.i.= o;*^.OOgIc 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER. 



[AC 



Arm'd with the power of Giemx ; the brave, the 

God-hbe Timoleon ! ardent to redress, 
Hb guides the war, and gains upon hia prey. 
A httJe interval shall set the victor 
Within our gates triumphant. 

Met, Still my feare 
Forebode for thee. Would thou hadet left this 

When hence your husband, Iha brava Phocion, 
fled; 



dl well thou knom'f 
The pangs I sofier'd in that trying moment. 
Did 1 not v»eep J Did I not rave and shriot. 
And by the mots tear my ilisheveil'd half 1 
DM I not follow to the aea-beat shore, 
Resolved, with Mm and with my blooming boy, 
To trust the winds and wavea t 

JMei. The pioua act, whate'er the fetes intend, 
Shall merit heait-felt praise. 
■ Eapk. Yea, Phodon, go, 
Gto with my child, torn from this 
This breast that sdll should yiek 

him. 

Fly with nij infent to some happier shore. 
If he be sate, Euphrasia dies content. 
Till that sad dose of all. the task be mine 
To tend a father with delighted care, 
To smooth the pillow of declining age, 
See him ank gradual into mere decay. 
On the last vei^ of life vratch every look, 
Explore each fond unutterable wish, 
Catch his last breath, and dose hia eyes in 

Mel. I woukl not add Co thy afflictions ; 
My heart misgives ; Evander s iatal period- 

Euph. Still is fer off: the sods have sent 
And once again 1 shall behold him king. 

Mel, Al^ ! those ghtt'ring hopes but lend 



in breast, 
nurture to 






'«y,_ 



To gild the clouds, that hov?r o'er your head, 
8oon to rain sorrow down, and plunge you deeper 
In blaik despair. 

Euph. The spirit-stirring virtue. 
That glows within me, ne'er shall know deapair. 
No, Iwill trust the gods. Desponding man! 
Uaal thou not heard with what re^stless ardour 
Timoleon drives the tumult of the war 1 
Hast thou not heard him thund'ring at our gates? 
The tyrant's pent up in his last retreat; 
Anon thou'lt see hia hatUemenCe in dust, 
His vialis, bis ramparts, and his towers, in ruin; 
Destruction pouring in on ev'ry aide, 
Pride and oppression at their utmost need, 
And nought to save him in his hopeless hour, 

[Flourish qf 'Pram'peta. 

MbL Hal the fell tyrant comes— Beguile his 
rage. 
And o'er your sorrows cast a dawn of gladness. 

Enter DiONYSius, Caljppus, Opcicers, (f^. 

Dion. The vain presumptuous Greek I his 
hopes of conquest, 
Like a gay dream, are vanish'd into air. 
Proudly elate, and flush'd with easy triumph 
O'er vulgar warriora, to the gates of Syracuse 
He uig'd the war, tiU DionysiUs' arm 
Let slaughter loose, and taught his dastard train 
Toseek their aafety by inglorious flight. 



Euph, O DionysiuE, if distracting fears 
. larm this Ihrobbitig bosom, you will pardon ■ 
A fr^l and tender sex. Till the fury 
Of war subside, the wild, the horrid interval 
In safety let me soothe to dear delight 
In a bv'd father's presence : trom his sight, 

Vnr thrpR Innf davn. with RnprioiiH fcio-rvd flirrn 



Indulge a daughter's love ; worn out with age, 
Soon must he seal his eyes in endless night, 
And with his converse charm my ears no more 

Dion. Afflicted feu', 
Thy couch invitesthee. When the tumult's o'er, 
Thou'lt see Evander with redoubled joy. 
Though now unequal to the cares of empire 
His age sequester him, yet honours h^h 
Shall gild the evening of his various lEy. — . 
Ferdiccaa, ere the mom's revolving light 
Unveil the face of thiiip, do thou despatch 
A wcll-oar'd galley to Hamilcar's fleet ; 
At the north point of yonder promontory 
1 ^f .nmo select officer instruct hun 

his ahipa, and issue on the land. 
Then may Timoleon tremble : vengeance then 
Shall overwhelm his camp, pursue his bands 
With fetal havoc to the ocean's marpn, 
And cast their limba to glut the vulture's famine, 
In mangled heaps upon the naked shore. [Exit 

£upA. Whatdolhearl Melanthon, can it bel 
If Carthage comes, if her perhdioua sons 
List in his cause, the dawn of freedom's gone. 

Mel. Woe, bitt'rest woe, impends; thou 
would'st not Ihinit — 

Euph, Howl— Speak ! unfold I 

MeL My tongue denies its offlce. 

Euph. How IS my father's Say, Melanthon- 

Mel. He, 

fear to shock thee with the tale of horror I 

erhaps he dies this moment.— Since Thnoieon 
First form'd his luies round thia beieaguer'd dty, 
No nutriment has touch'd Evander's lips. 
In the deep caverns of the rock imprison'd. 
He pines in bitterest want. 

Euph. Well, my heart, 
Well do your vital drops fotget to flow I 

ipair, alas ! is all the sad resource 
Our fete aUows us now. 

Euph. Yet whydespairl 
Tb that the tribute to a felher due 1 
Blood Is his due. 
Melanthon, come; my wrongs will lend me force; 

kness of my sex is gone ; this arm 
Feels (enfold strength ; this arm shall do a deed 
For heaven and earth, for men and gods to won- 



Thisar 



dera 

1 shall vuidicate a fether's ( 



ACT II. 

SCENE I.— A wild TOmaitHc scene amidst oter- 
haiigitig Rocks ; a CaveTn en one side. 

EidBT Ahcas, with a Spear in hit hand. 

Arc. The aloom of night sits heavy on tht 

And o'er the solemn scene such stillneaa reigns, 
As 'twere a pause of nature ; on the beach 
No murm'ring billow breaks ; the Grecian tents 
Lie sunk in sTeep ; no gleaming fires are Been ; 
All Syracuse is hush'd : no stir abroad. 



oX'Oogle 



The groan of angui^^Knn Eraniler's cell, 
Piercing the midnight ^oml — Icis the sound 
Of bUBUing prows, that cleave the briiw deep. 
Peihapa at taa dead>hou> Hamifcar's fleet 
[Udes in the bay. 

Enter PBft,OT*a,;/i*ni the Cavern. 

Phil. What, ho! brave Areas! ho! 

jii-e. Why thus deaeft thy coi'cht 

PW, Methought the Bound 
Of distant uproar chas'd afiiighted sleep. 

Arc. At intervalB the oar's resounding stroke 
, Comes eehtMng from the main. Save thatreport, 
A deiU-li^'^ence through the wide expose 
Broads o'er the dieai? coaEt. 

Pha: JJo Aou retire, 
And seek rejiose ; the duty of thy watch 
, Is noyi, perfiirm'd ; J take thj post. 
■ .Are., po-vi area 
Your rby j pris'net % 

PkiL Areas, shall I own 
A. secret weaknaas 1 My heart inward melts 
To "see that suffering virtue. On the earth, 
The cold, damp earth, the royal victim lies ; 
And, while pale femine drinks his vital spirit, 
He welcomes death, and smiles himself to real, 
OhI wouldlcould relieve himl Thou withdraw ; 
Thy wearied nature claims repose; ! 
The watch is mine. 

Arc. May no alarm diaturfi thee. [Exit. 

Phil, Some dread event is laVrinc into buth. 
At close of day the sullen sky held iorth 
tTnerring signals. With disastrous glare 
The moon's full orb rose crimson'd o'er with blood 
And, lol athwart. the gloom a falling 
Trailsa' ■•■■»■ ".■--. 3- 

ho! 
Speak, ere thou 

'whoand^al 



It is a. iiiend approacliea. 

PhU. Ha! what mean 
Those plaintive notes 1 

Ehtpk. Here is no ambuah'd Greet, 
No wurrior to surprise theo on the n^tch. 
An humble suppliant comes.— Alas, ray, strength 
Eihausted juile forsakes this wrary frahie. 

' a (dercing through the 



■ THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER. 



Phil. How didst thou ga 

rocli? 
Kuph. 



tted quite forsak 
, mat voice I 



What art'thoii 1 wSf Siy Vnuid^ quickly say 
What wretch, with rttaf .blent,' at this dread 

Wherefore alarm'st thou thiia our peaceful walchl 
' ■' . . [ExU. 

Re-enter Phi lot js, with Euphrj^ia. 

Euphrasia ! 

Way, princess, thus anticipate the dawn 1 
Still sleep and silence wrap the weary world, 
The stars in mid career usurp the pole ; 
The Girecian bands, the wind^ the waves, are 

huah'd ; 
All things are mute around us ; all but you 
Rest in oblivious slumber from their cares, 
Eupk. Yes, ail; oil rest: the very murd'rei. 

G-uill is at rest: I only wake to misery. 



&ther; here you hold him 
fetter'd; 
Oh ! give him to me ; — if ever 
The touch of nature throbb'd within your breast. 
Admit ma to Evander; in these caves 
Iknow he janes in want; let me convey 
aome charitable succour lo a father. 

Phil, Alas! Euphrasia, would 1 dare comply. 

Euph. It will be virtue in thee. Thou, like me. 
Wart born in Greece ;— Oh ! by our common pa- 
Nay, stay; thou shall poUl J ; Philotas, stay ; 
You have a father too"; think, vvere his lot 
Hard as EvandeF'si.if by felon hands 
Chiun'd to the earth, with sloif.consuming pangs 
He felt sharp want, and with .ai) asking eye 



Through walls and locks, to save him t Thii 

Philotas, 
Of thy own, aged sire, and pity mine. 
Think of the, agonies a daughter feels. 
When thus q parent wants the common food, 
The bounteous band of nature meant for all. 
Phil. 'Twere beat withdraw thee, prineei 



not; itisfruillBBsall; 
i, thy wild entreaties, a 
Euph. Hal ■■--- ■---' 



Thy 



— rthou hast murder'd him ; he is 



I understand thee ; — butchera, yon have shed 
The precious drops of hie ; yet, e'en in death, 
Let me behold him ; let a daughter close 
With duteous hand a father's beamless eyes ; 
Print her last kisses on his bunour'd hand, 
And lay him decent in th« shroud of death 

Phil. Ahsl (his frantic grief can nought avail. 
Retire, and seek the couch of balmy sleep. 
In this dead hour, this season of repose. 

Euph. And dost thou then, inhuman tJiat thou 

Adviae a wretch like me to know repose 1 
This is my last abode ; these caves, these rooks, 
Shall ring for ever with Euphrasia s wrongs ; 
All Sicily shall hear me; yonder deep 
Shall echo back an injur'd daughter's cause; 
Here will I dwell, and rave, and shriek, and give 
These scatter'd locks to all the passing winds; 
Call on Evander lost ; and, pouring curses, 
And cruel aods, and cruel stars invoking, 
Stand on the cliff in madness and dcs^il. 

Phil. Yet calm this violence; reflect, Euphrasia, 
With what severe enforcement DionysiuB 
Exacta obedience to his dread commimd. 
If here thou'rt found— 

Eaph. Here is Euphraaa's mansion. [Fdlh 
Her ni'd eternal home; — inhuman savages, 
Here stretch me with a father's murder'd corse, 

Phil. By heaven, 
My heart in pity bleeds. 
Her vehemence of grief o'erpowers me quite. 
My honest heart condemns the barb'rous deed, 
And if I dare 

idif ■!__: : :-.:_. 

lood 1 Honest, if you dare 
'Tis the slave's virtue 1 'tis the utmost limit 
Of the base coward's honour. — Not a wretch. 
There's not a villain, not a tool of power. 
But, silence interest, extinguish fear. 
And he vrill prove Irenevolent to man 



r, i^.oogle 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTEB. 



The gen'rons heart does more ; will dare do all 
That honour prompts. — How dost Ihou dace to 

Reapeot the gods, and know notrther fear. 

Pkii. No .other tear assoila ttiia warlike breast 
I pity youcmiafortunea; yea, by heaven, 
Mj heart Weeds for jon, Goda ! you've touoh'd 

my soul ! 
The gen'rons impulse is not given in rain. 
I feel dwe, nature, and I daie ob^. 
Oh! thou Iwstoonquer'd.— Go,JEophr»ffla, go, 
Behold- thy fether. ' 

Yet marli my words ; if aught of nourishment 
Thou woUlcPat coHvey, tmf partners of- Ihe.watch 
Will ne'er consent. 

Eupk. I will observe your ordera ; 
On any lenns, oh 1 let me, let me, see Mm. 

PWi. ;Yon lamp will guide thee through the 



1. My heart n 



n thanks; the pi- 



rimoleon shall reward ; the bounteous gods, 
And Ihy own virtue, shall reward the deed! 

{EntBTB the eave. 
PM.' Prevailing, powerful virtue l-^Thou saii- 

iibborn h 
Would I could save them!- 



The glorioHS power to shelter 

Yet fer a moment to assuage ita woes. 

Is the host sympathy, the purest joy. 

Nature intended for the heart of man. 

When thus she gave the oocial gen'rons tear 

SCENE II — Tlie inside of the Caiern i 
Enter Arcas and EupMKash 



Tore 

Arc Not the smallest store | 

Of scanty nourishment muat pass these waits 
Our ii'es were forfeit else a moment's parley 
Is ail I grant , in yonder eave he Ilea 

EvBji [Wilkm the Cell] Oh, strugghng na- 
ture ' let thy conflict end 
Oh ' give me, give me, raat 

Euph My father's voice ' 
It pierees here I it cleaves my very heart 
I shall expire, and never see hun lanie 

Are Bepose thee, princess, here, [Dvietcs a 
coach] here rest thy Iiniba, 
Fill the returning blood shall '^Qii thee hnimesg 

Eupk i'he oaves, the rocka, ra-ech» to hia 
groans' 
And IS there no relief 1 

Am All I can grant 
Yon shall command I will unbar the dungeon, 
IJnkxBe the chiin that binds bioi to the rock, 
And leave yonrinterMew without restraint 



Katnre, that drives t 
la that my atherl 

Arc. Take your last ferewell. 
His vigour seems not yet exhausted q^uite. 



. ,_. isinghti „,_ 
free t — These Ung'ring pangs — 

"' " is, aad savB.piy 

ijaee of rest; 

IQmea.oiit. 
A little.air;.on!«;n»xe,a.t>ieathof air; 
Alas! liiunt; Idle. 

Eu^.H^ajtrRisrang sight! 
^ ' "' joUi Sir. 



— lead roe forwuid : 
..lie hand 

.To reach its succours to a wretch hke me 1 
Eupk. Well tnay'at thpu aak it. .Qh, my 
breaking heart 1 
The hand of death is on him. 

Evan. Stilt.ajittte, 
A little onwa^ [o the air conduct me ; 
'Tis vrell : — I thank thee ; thou art Hind and good. 
And much I wonder at this gen'rons pity 
Eupk. Do you not knflvj. me, SirJ 
Euan- Methinks, 1,^110 w 
That voice ; art Ihon-— alas ! my eyes are dim ! 
Each o^'ect swims lielOTe me— No, in truth, 
know thee. 



Euph. Not, your own Eurihrftsia t 
Evan. Art thou my daiigtilof 1 
Euph. Oh,,my honour'd an 



Your mercies 
Are without number [FaUs on, the couch 

1 would pour mv praise , 
But, iji, your goodness 01 ercomes me quite I 
You read ray heart , you see what passes (here 
Evph Alas, he Jamts , the gushing tide of 

Bears down each feeble sense reatore hun, bsa 

Evan All, my Euphrasia, all will soon he well 
Pass but a (noment, and this busy globe, 
Ita thrones, Us empires, and its bustling millions, 
Will seem a speck in the great void of spBj% 
Yet while I stay, thou darhng of my age i 
N'iV, dry those (ears 

Euph 1 will, my fether 

Evan Where— 
I fea( to ask il, where is virtuous Phocion 1 

Euph Fled from the tyrant's power 

E-Ban And loft thee here 
Espoa'd and helplesol 

f^upft He IS all truth and honour 
He tied to save my child 

Evan My young Evander ' 
Yonr boy 19 w's, Eupltraaia''— Oh' myheartl 
Alls' qmtBgone, worn out with misery , 
Oh, weak, decay'd, old man' 

Eupk Inhuman wretches ' 
Will none rehcve hi9 want1 A drop of water 
Might save his life , and even thit 's denied him 

Evan These strong emotions— Oh' thateager 

It is too much — assist me ; bear me hence ; 
And lay me down in peace. 
Eupk. His eyes are lix'd ; 
And those pale quiv'ring lips I He clasps my 



h,l^,OOgLC 



KOTO,,,.] THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER. 

Enter Philotas. | With your worst efTorts, and can tr; 

Pha. Th<«e wild, those pierang - ehneka, will | ' ^^ Philotas, for Euphrasia, in h 



.£upft. Support him; l)ear him hence; 'Ub all 

^vs.u. [Ae lie is carried if.] 0-deathl where 
ait thou 1 Death, thou dread. of. suiit, 
Thou Irish of innocence, affliction's friend, 
Tip'd nature calls thee; come, in mercy coma. 
fi-nA lav me.pillow'd in eternal rest. 
My tiild, where- art thoulgive me ;. reach -thy 

"Why doat thou weep 1 My eyes are diy— Alas 1 

Q,uitfl parch'd my hps— quite paEch'd, they cleave 

together. lExeunt. 

Re-enter AaCis. 
An. The gray of mom breaks through yon 

"Twioe time this interview should end : the hoai 
Now wftmaiEuphraMa hence: whit man couli] 

' haToindl^'d— Philotas l-~ha ! thetsll i 

■'■ -Evandei gone !— What may- this 



inl 



Left 
Philotaa, spaak 

Re-enter PhilOTjIS. 
Phil. Oh, vile, detested lot. 
Here In obey the savage tyrant's will, 
And murder virtue, that can thus heli 
Its eiecntioner, and smile upon him. 
That piteous sijiht I 

An. She muat withdraw, Philotas 
Delay undoes ua both. The restless 
Glows with the Hush of.day. The lime requiresi 
'Without her farther paa80,-or vain escuse. 
That ahe depart this moment 

I PM. Areas, yea; 
My ■ TMce shall warn her of th'iappmachins 

mr. IBxiH 

Jre.iWiJuld Bhe^had ne^er-.advenkir'd: 

I dreadfi? ovent ;' and hart l-tha wind conveys: 
In clearer Boand the uproar of themain. 
The^^es prepare navi havoc ;• onith'aront 
Dependsthefiteof enniire. .Wherefore thus , 
Delays Euphrasia 1— Ha! what. means, Philotas' 
Tlwt sudden haate; 'that pale- diaorder'd look f ; 

■fle-enisf; Philotas. ] 

PWt-0! Imn hold no more at such a sight,- 
E'en th^hard heart of tyranny wodiJ melt 
Toiy^tflottaess. 'Arcas,.go, behold 
The-IPiDnfffrand'ofchiilitr and love ; 
BehoUthBt-onemmpletl goodness; see ' 

Th' eipBdimit sharp necessity has taught her ; 
Thy he4rt-will bum; will melt; will yeam to view 
A child like her. 

Arc' Ha !— Saywhat mystery 
Wakes these emotions 1 

Pka. Wonder--vrorking virtue ! 
The lather fiBtei'd at hia daughter's breaat ! 
O, filial piety I — The milk design'd 
Pox her own olfepring, on the parent's lip 
Allays the parching fever. All her laws 
Invertedqinte, great nature triumphs still. 

An'. The tale unmans my soul. 

Phil. Ye tyrants, hear it, 
And learn, that, while your cruelty prepares 
Unheard^jf torture, virtue can keep pace 



hazard all. Let tis preserve 
Her fttherfbr'her. 

PM. Oh! bet lovely daring 
Transcends all praise. By heaven, he shall not die. 

An. And yet we must be wary. I'll go forth, 
And first erforeeach avenue around, 
Lest the fii'ii sentinel obstruct yoor porpose. 

Phil. I tbankthee.Arcas; wBvrtHactlikemen 
Who feot for others' woes-^he ieada him fbrth. 
And tremblingly supports Ms droojring age. 
Pe-er.ter-Ei!FBB*Bix and EvilUdBR. 
in. ' Euphrasia, oh, my Child ! - retnmmg Hfe 
Glows here about my heart. Conductmefbrwatdl 
At the bat gasp preserv'd !' Ha! davmiljg light; 
Let ma bishokl ; in feith, I see Ihee now ; 
I do indeed:^ the father aces Ms-child. 
Evph. I have.rylev'd biro— Oh, the joy's too 
mW; 
'Tis speechleaa rapture t 
'EcfMi. Bkasinga, blessings on thee ! 
'Ei^ift.'My-liftKerBtill shall live. Ala3! Phi- 
Iota^ 
Colild I abandon that white,hoary he4d, 
That vencrable'fimrit— Abandon Mm 
To perish here in misery and femine^ 

Phil. Thy tears, thou miracle of goodness ! 
Have triumph'd o'er me. Take him, take youi 

fcthor; 
Convey Mm hence ; T do release him to you. 

Evan. What said Philetas^ Doltbndlydreami 
Indeed, my senses are imperfect | yet 
Metbonght I heard him ! Did he say, release me 1 
PhU. -Thou art my king, and nownoimHe my 

Go with your da()ght«r, with that wondrous pal- 

Of iilial piety to after times. 
Yes, princess, lead him ferth; I'll pomttiie )iatb, 
Whose soft declivity will guide your stops 
■To the deep vale, miicb tBese o'erhat^ng roris 
Encompass Tonnd. You may convey him thence 
~o some safe shelter. Yet a moment's pause ; 
innst concral your flight from cv'rj eye. 
es, I will save, or pensh in their canse. [Erii, 
Emn, Whither,ohl wbitberalMUEvanirergot 
. m at tiie goal of life ; if in the race 
Honour has follow'd with no ling'rinff step. 
But there wts smiling with her laurell'd wreath 

brow, there~would I &in make halt, 
And notingforiouslay medown to rest. 

EiipA.And will you then refuse. When thus 
' the gods 
Afford a refuge to thee 1 
Bmin. Oh ! my child. 
There is no retiige for me. 
3«pft. Pardon, Sir : 
pbrasia's care has form'd a safe re 
mays't thou dwell ; it will 
-wanted. 
Soon shall Timoleon, with resistless force. 
Burst yon devoted walls, 
Evan. Timoleon! 
EapA. '■ 
The brave 



le "rimoleon wlth.the power of Greeee ; 



Ohl thou shall rf 



o;*^.OOglc 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER. 



Shall grace her father's throne. Indulgent heaven ! 
Pour down jour bleasinga on this beel of daugh- 

To her and Phocion give Euonder'B crown ; 
Jjet them, oh I let them both in virtue wear it, 
And in due time transmit it to, their, boy 1 
iJe-on<er PhiCotab. 

PkS- All things are apt ; the drowsy Eentinel 
Lies huah'd in sleep; I'll marshal thee (he way 
Down the steep rock, 

Buph. Obi let us quickly hence. 

Evan. The blopd but loiters in these hiaen 

Do yoo, whose youthful spirit glovre with Kfe, 
Do you go forth, and leave this mould'ring corpse. 
rTo me had beavon decreed a longer date, 
It ne'er hsd suffer'd a fell n ' ' 
Nor let me see the carnage 
Farewell, ^E^uphrasia ; in one im u biuiwwb 
To these rapain« pa; the last obsequies, 
And leave me be^ to sink to silent dust. 

Eupk. And will you then, on aelf-deatruclion 

.. LjEupiiaBiai Trust. 

my child ? 
Though life 's a burden I could well lay down, 
Yet I will prize it, ance boatow'd bj tliae, 
Ob ! thou art good ; th; virtue soars a tlight 
For the wide world to wonder at ; in thee. 
Hear it all nature, future ages bear it. 
The ath^r finds a parent in his child. [Exeunt 

ACT m. 

SCENE I.— A Rampart near the Harbour. 
Enter DiONJsras and Officers. 

Diaa. Base deserters ! 
Curse on Iheir Punio &itb ! Did they once daie 
To grapple with the Greek 1 Ere yet the main 
Was tuig'd with blood, they turn'd their ships ' 

May storms and tempests fiillow in tbeir rear. 
And dash their tleet upn the Libyan shore 1 
Enier Calippus, 
Cal. My liege, Tinioleon, where the harbour 

Has storm d the forts, and even now his fleet 
Pursues its course, and ^ers athwart the bay. 
Through ev'ry street 
Despair and terror fly. A panic spreads 
From man to man, and superstition sees 
Jove arm'd with thunder, and the goils agmnstus. 
0tin. With sacred rites their wrath must ha 
appeas'd. 
■ " ■" at the altar bleed ; 
OTant clouds U 
S the virgin ti 
In slow procession to the temple bear 
The image of their gods. 
The solemo sacrifice, the virgin tlirong. 
Will gain the popular belief, and kin^ 
In the fierce soldiery religious rage. 
Away, my fiiends, prepare the sacred rites. 

[ExU Cai 
JUnier Puilotas. 

ir prisoner? 



Phil. Life ebbs apace ; 
To-morrow's sun sees him a breathlese corse, 
Dion. Curse on his ling'ring pangs! Sicilia's 

No more shall deck his brow ; and if the sand 
Still loiter in the glass, thy band, my friend. 
May shake it thence. 

Phil. It ahaJl, dread Sir; that task 
Leave to thy IMthliil servant. 

Dion. Oh I Phitotas, 
Thou bttleknow'sl the cares, the pangs of empire. 
The ermin'd pride, the purple that ar — 



A conquerorli breast, bi 



IS, my fiiend, (o 



A h^t that's Com,that's mangled with remorse: 
Even Victory itself plants anguish here, 
And round my laurels the fell serpent twines, 

Phil. Would Dionysius abdicate his crovm, 
And sue for terms of peace 1 

Dion, Detested thought ! 
No, though ambition teem with countless ills, 
It still has charms of power Co fire the soul. 
Though horrors multiply around my head, 
I will oppose them all. The pomp of sacrifice. 
But now ordsin'd, is mockery to heaven, 
'Tis 'ain, 'tis fiiutless ; (hen let daring guilt 
Be my inspirer, and consummate all. 
Where are those Greeks, the captives of my sword, 
Whose desp'rale valour rush'd within our walla, 
Fought near our person, and the pointed lance 
AinPd at my breast 'i 

Phil. In chains they wait their doom, 

Dion. Give me to see 'em ; bring the slaves iie- 

Phil. What, ho I Melanthon, this way lead 
your prisoners. 
Enler Melanthon, leiih Greek Soldiers, and 



Dion. Assassins, and not warriors ! doyecome. 
When the wide range of battle claims your sword, 
Thus do you come against a single 1 



Shower'd o; 



1 did n 



■ swords at 



Has he yet breath'd his lasf! 



Point at my breast, and thirst for regal blood 1 
Greek Offi. We sought thy hfe, i am by birth 

An open foe in arms, 1 meant to slay 
The foe of humankind. With rivd ardour 
We took the tjeld ; onev(M]Ce,onemind,oneheart, 
All leagu'd, all covenanted : in yon camp 
Spirits there are who aim, like as, at sto^. 
Whene'er you sally forth, whene'er the Greeks 
Shall scale your iralls, prepare thee to encounter 
A lifce assault. By me the youth of Greece 
Thus notify the war they mean to wage. 

Dion. Thus then I warn them of my great ra 

Whoe'er in Stile shall become our pris'ner. 
In torments meets bis doom, 

Greek OM. Then wilt thou see 
How vile the body Co a mind that pants 
For genuine glory. Twice three hnndredGreeks 
Have sworn, like ns, lo hunt Chee through the 

Ours the first lot ; we've fail'd ; on yonder plain 
Appear in arms, the faithful band will meet thee, 
Oion. Vile slave, no more. Metjinthan, drag 
'em hence 
; To die in misery, Impall'd alive. 



r, i^.oogle 



BII.] 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER. 



The winJs shal! parch tliem on the craggy cliff. 
Selected from the rest, let one depart 
A messenger to Greece, to tell the &le 
Her chosen sons. h«r liret advent'rets, met. 

[Exit. 

Mel. Unhappy men t how shall my care protect 
VouF fbrlisit lives f Philotas, thou conduct them 
To the deep dungeon's gloom. In that Tecess, 
'Midst the wild tumult of eventful war, 
We may vranl off the blow. My friends tarewell ; 
That officer will gaiiJe joiir steps. 

[Alt but Phocion folloic Philotas. 

Pho, Disguis'd 
Thus in a soldier's gaib, he knows me not. 

[Aside. 
Me)antl)')n I 

Mel. Hal — those accents ! — Phocion here! 

Pko. Yes, Phoaon here! apcat, quicMy tall 
me, say. 
How feres EuphraMaf 

3&i. Euphrasia lives, and Jills the anxious mo- 

Wilh every vhtoe, Wherafore venture hither I 
Why with rash valour penetrate our gates 1 
Pho. Could I reirainl Ohl cotJd I tamely 



The laiy-pacing hours, while here in Svracuse 
The tyrant keeps all that my heart holds dear I 
For her dear sake all danger sinks hefore me ; 
For her I burst the barriers of the gate, 
Where the deep cavem'd rock afloras a passage, 
A hundred chosen Greeks pursu'd my steps ; 
We Ibrc^d au entrance \ the dsvoled guard 
Fell victims to our lage ; but in that moment 
Down from the walls superior numbers cams. 
The tyrant led them on. We roah'd upn him, 
If we could reach Ms heart, to end the war. 
But heaven thought otherwise. Melanthon, say, 
I fear to ask it, lives Evander still? 

Mel. Alas ! he lives imprieon'd in the rock. 
Thou must withdraw thee hence ; regain once 

Timoleon's camp ; alarm his slumb'ring rage ; 
Assail the walls; thou with thy phalanx seek 
The subterraneous path; that viay at night 
The Greeks may enter, andlet in destruction 
On the astonish'd fee. 

Pho. Would'st thou have.me 
Basely retreat while my Euphrasia trembies 
Here on the ridga of perill 

Mel. Yet hear the voice 
Of sober age. Should Dionysus' spies 
Detect thee here, ruin involves us all : 
Thy voice may rouse Timoleon to th' assault, 
And bid him stonn tha works. 

Pho. By heaven, I will ; 
My breath shall walta his rage: this very night, 
\^nien sleep ats heavy on the slumb'ring dty, 
Then Qreeca unsheaths her sword, ana great re- 
Shall stalk with death and horror o'er the ranks 
Of slaughter'd troops, a sacrifice to IVeedom i 
am first let me behold Euphrasia. 

Mel. Hush 
Thy pent-up valour : to a secret haunt 
f II guide thy steps ; there dwell, and in apt time 
I'll bring Euphrasia to tliy longing arms. 

Pho. Oh ! lead me Ut her ; Uiat exalted virtue 
With firmer nerve shall bid me grasp the javlin. 
Shall Irid my sword, with more than lightning' 



Vol. I. . 



ssvtflneas 



Blaie in the front of war. and glut its rage 
With blows repeated in the tyrant's veins, 

[Exeunt, 



Eupb. This way my virgins, this way bend 
your steps. 
Lo I the sad sepulchre, where, hears'd in death, 
The )^e remains of my dear mother lie. 
There, while the victims at your altar bleed, 
And with your prayers the vaulted roof resounds, 
There let me pay me tribute of a t — 






Ewpk. My tears have dried their si: 



That duty paid. 1 will return, my vi^ins, 

[■Qoea into the Tomb. 
Erix. Look down, propitious powers ! behold 
that virtue. 
And heal the pangs that desolate her soul. 

Enter PHfLOTAa, 
Phii. Mourn, mourn, ye virgins ; rend your 
BCatter'd garments ; 
Some dread calamity hangs o'er your heads. 
In vain the tyrant would appease with sacrifice 
Th' impending wrath of ill-requited heaven, 
III omens hover over us : at the altar 
The victim dropp'd, ere the divinar seer 
Had gor'd his knife. The brazen statues tremble, 
And from the marble, drops of blood distil. 

Bnx. Now, ye just gods, if vengeance you 
prepare, 
Now find the guilty head. 

Rs-enler E[jpHHisiA_fii5OT the Tomh. 

Euph. Vir^ns, I Ihank you— Oh! more 
lightly now 
My heart expands ; the pious act is clone, 
And 1 have paid my tribute to a parent. 
Ah 1 wherefore does the tyrant bend his vray 1 

Phil. He files the altar ; leaves the unfinish'd 

No god there smiles propitious on his cause. 
Fate hfis the awful iralance ; weighs his life, 
The lives of numbers, in the ttembhng scale. 
Euph. Dcspar and horror mark his haggard 

His wild, disorJer'd step— Do you retire. 

[To Altendantt. 
Retire, Philotas ; let me here remain. 
And give the moments of suspended fete 
To pious worship and to filial love, 

FhO. Alas ! I fear to yield :— awhile III leaw 

And at the temple's entrance wait thy comii.g. 

Eitph. Now then, Euphrasia, now thou may'si 

The purest ecstacy of soul. Come forth. 
Thou man of wo, tiiou man of every virluo 



r, i^.oogle 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER. 



!**^n 



Enter 'E-ntmEsfiom the A£mmnent 

&!im And does Ihe grava thus cast me t 

With a ibnd fitther's love to li^ tHee i 'flras 
fa Diingle rapture in a danghtiM-'a anna 1 

Etiph How fetes my latbei now t 

^an "flkj Bid, Bwhia^ia, 
Haa given new me Thou tram this vitd aUva 
£>en«'arthy<Ueu^,'wfthunteardbi"da^ 



Of allMff gd^MM dwell 'Within m; hei^, 

Thoo 'WllC'not nondet Ob I my Mrer 

How iHdBt thou bear thy long, long- sUlIenngs l 

Endure tl^r teirb rooB nffie 1 

Eltett My foes but did 
To this oM frame, what niture s hand muet do 
' I fiaBVW gofag'hence by mere decay 
To that futantv which Plato taught 
Bat than wcalFst me , thou 1 

m^ Tmudeontoo 
Iniites ffies'bitck'ta Me 
"fFKnt'' And does he stdl 
tTi]^atttt>eBi(^1 
" 'Btif^ His active genius comes 
To scourge a gurity rate The Pimic flcal 
Half lo9t IS BwalloVd by the loanng sea 
The Bhatter d retiise seek the Libyan shore, 
To bear the news of their defeat to Carthags 
Enait These are thy wonders heaven ' abroad, 
thy spint 
Moves oec the deep, and mighty fleets are va 

Euph Ha'— Hark I— what noise iS that' It 
;? this way 

— Philotasi — ha I 

Enier Phelotae 

Phd For thee, Euphrasii Dipi»sius cbUb 
Some new BUtpicion goads him At yon gate 
I stapp d Calippus, as with eager haste 
He bent this way to seek then Oh 1 my sovereign 
My king my injur'd lUaster, wdl you pardon 
The wrongs I've done thae 1 

[Kneela to EviNDEa 

Evan Virtue such as thme, 
Prom the fierce trial of tyrannic power 
Shines forth with added lustre 

Phxl Oh, fotgivB 
My ardent zeal , there is no time to waste 
You must withdraw , trust to your faithful friends 
Pass but another day, and Dionysius 
Falls Jroip a throne usurp d 

Eran Bui ere ho pays 
The forfeit of hiB irmies, what streams of blood 
Shall flow in torrents round ' Methmka I might 
Prevent this waste of nature — I II go forth 
And to my people show their nghtFul kioa 

Euph Binish that thought , forbear , the rash 
attempt 
Were fatal to our hopes , oppress'd, dismay'd, 
The people look aghast, and, wan vnth iear, 
None will espouse your cause. 

Evan. Yes, aU will dare 
To sot like men ; — their king, I gave myself 
To a whole people. I made no reserve ; 
My life was theira ; each drop abdnt my heart 
Pledg'd to the public cause ; devoted to it ; 
That was my compact j is the subject's less 1 



If they are all deba? d and wiHing slaves, 
The young but breathing to grow gray m bondage 
And the dd anking to ignoble graves, 
Of such a race no matter 'w^o is king 
And yet I will not think it , no I my people 
*/e brav^ atid gen lous , I vnU tnlst ttciE valour 
Euph Yet stay , yet be advis d. 

No plan la &['d, aiid no concerted meaSbre 
Tim to fey (rtith acd honour WitheSa, goda, 
Here m the tetut>le of Olympian J6ve 

Evan Forbear the man like thee. 
Who &els the best enlotiblts of the heart 
Trdth, reason, justice, honour s flne eicitemonls, 
Acts by those laws and wants no ollw siinction 

Euph Agam, th' alarln apprUachea , sure de- 



ls througl 
It gains upon the ear '^ithffl 
All's k)st If thou art seen 

Phil And, lo I Cahtipas 
Darts with the lightnlng^s st>^ actoss the aisle. 
E-nan Then at th« S^te-hoUse Convene my 
friends 
Mehoithon, Dion arid their bTaTe associates, 
Will show that liberty has tbaders aCiU 
AnOn 111 meet em there [Eini PhilOta(>] my 

chdd farewell 
Thou shalt direct me now [ExU into the 7 omb 
Eoph [Qjmtng'/orwori?] Howmydietracted 
heart throbs wild with fear I 
What brings Cdippusl wherefore! Save me 

Fiaer Calippus 
dl This sullen nUlsiMg in these ill^ar abodes 
AbtOdtik^xim Ute kMg biiMrd thy plotbngs 
Thy TDoixd hatod fa> the state and him 
mJ'MT'^n ^ t<MitHfinda thee to fepair 
Thu< taoulent bVhis presence 

Euph Ha I what means 
The^rantT— lobey [BiiiC«i.lppus] And,ohi 
ye powers, 

teis of heavbn I defend my kther , 
Support his dR»[bing age and iThen anon 

Avenemg jus ■-' -- ■— — - —- ' 

Be the gl 

■th he may come to bless A witlmg peflple, 
And be your own just unage here oti earth 

[Exit 

ACT IV 

SCENE I~The C-Uadel 

Enter Diontsius Taltppus, and olbers 

Dion And means the Greek to treat of terms 

By heaven, Uns panting bosom hop'dto meet 
ELs boasted phalanx on ih' embattled plain. 
And doth he now, on peacctid counuls bent, 
Despati h his her^ i— Let the slave ftporoach. 

Enter Herh.d. 

Now speak thy purpose ; what doth Greece im 

ifer. Thnoleor., Sir,' whose great renown ii 



o; *^.OOg IC 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER 



le his delegate to ofl«r tfrms 

raay well aceoid _._ 

tluragh it spu^n at justioe, 

,..- , , -.mf 

With pity aeee Che mid deatnictive havoc 
Of niflilBBB war , he halh survej 'd around 
The hoapS of slain that cover vender field, 
And, t{)lich.d mth gen'roue sense of buntw no, 
Weeps o er hia viclofi^ 

Dum Tow lBiid?r weeps i 
Then let Oie author of tbma i{te thou epeA't/t ot, 
Lot th' atnbitKuWifeMtB of dp^ncfion, 
Ti[|^,ie^t^,u]d close t]ie Bcene of blood 
Why^oth affiflffhted peace isibolA Im ^an^ad 
Uoiear d in, SiiSy 1 wid wlwrfifope fore 
Tfis jfpn Tsot^ of frar, fiopi wb)ch the ah™'— 
Itetires apjalrd, and leaves the Masted hot 



Ber "Epnotnu,. 
To,id^ iTunolepn'a eauas , not mme the o£Bce 
To jastu^ the strong, the ngnt^pus, motives 

S> Mge hun to the viar ^le only scope 
y d^tiit)pa tiuJjis at, IS to ^ 
An mteppl of peace, a pause of hopiM 
That they, wlM»a indies am ''■" — ''"'' ' 



IJum Approach, ft 

i'hy gnef thj tender 

Has tguchd [IK nearly , 

Regpeet attendance, evry lenient care 
To soothe afHietion, and e\lend his life, 
Evander has Commanded 

£!nph Vi|8 diBsanibier ' 
Detested hoDiieide ' [ABtde ] And has thy heart 
Felt for the wretched 1 

^ujn Uigenciee of state 
Abndg d his liberty , but to his person 
All honour hath been paid 

JEupk The nghteous gods 
Have mark d thy ways and wdl in lime repay 



idihoP 



May meet ^ last f«dnt«i ionali 
Anl^^^ent be in honaunible graves 

Ptcm. Go tell your leader his pretexts are vain 
Iipt him, with llioso that Ijve, embark for Greece, 
And leave owpippofalpUins, the mangled hmbs 
Of laosa ha imt^i, irom my tender care 
Shall meet due oWquies 

Her The herOj Sir 
Wages no war with those wJio bravely ^l^ 
Ti^ Ibi the dead I supphcate , ibr t|ieni 
W^ aue for peace ^d to the hviog too 
Tgnj^fW^ S^tem^^l^ V the groans 
Qfna,id^P90Mh4™pn|fligatha.Tos sword. ' 
A HEgte i^,spB jay Hw^femipl nles 
To-momw'i nm may see Iwth atmies meet 
WUbout bostiltty, aitd all in honour 
T^u to inter the tnnqjs who bravely tell , 
We, on our part, to eive an humble ood 
To those who aara'tfa footing o" the uJe, 
And by theur death have conqoer'd 

Dton iB^itao, 
Igtant Wiy suit 9Qon as to-tMrrow'a dawn 
Muofl iie,wt)rid,ithe iBge of ifffptW^ 
In vam shall thint for blood and ^ qw (uewdL 
&lXff« mnaful ofBttet conduct iwu forth i 

r^:nf HebaIiV. 
Bj, hP^ven the Greek hath offer a to my «ward 
An eroy p-ey , a sacrifice to glut 
My great revenae Away, my ftiends disperse 
Phllfltl>s, vraits Euphnsia ai we order d t 

Phil She s here at buid 

JTton Admit her to our presence 
Rt^e end despair, a thousand warring passions, 
AJlnae by luma, and piecemeal renif my heart. 



Dum If to see thy father 
If here to meet hun in a fond embrace 
Will calm thy breast and dry those beauteous 



Aged infirm worn (.ut wtth toil and years — 

No let me seek him ratber~lt soft pity 

Has touLb d your heart, oh' send me, send me, 

Dion C ontiol this wild alarm , wMh prudent 

Philotas shall conduct him , here I grant 
The tender interview 

E-aph Pisastroiis fate I 
Ruin impends 1 — This vtiU disroier all , 
111 pensh first provoke hia utmost rage [Aside 
Though niuch 1 languish to behold m j lather, 
Yet now it were not fit— the sun goes down , 
Night fella apace , soon as returning day — 

•Son This night, this verj hour, you bpth must 

Together you may Serve the state and me 
Thou, seest the havoc of wide waatjnff war , 
And more full well you know, are still to bletd 
Thou may'st prevent theip fete 

Eupk Oh ' give the meana, 
And IwiU bless thee tor It 

Dwm BVom a. Grraefe 
Torments have wrung the truth. Thy busbnni), 
Phocion— 

Eupft Oh I sav speak irf" my Phocion 

Dim, He tishe 
Hath kindled up this war, with treai,h reus arts 
Inflam'dthe states of Greece, and nau the traitor 
Cornea with a foreign aid to wrest my erown 

Mujih And does my Phpcion share Timoleons 

Dion With him invests our walls, and bids 
leMlhan ' 

Erect her standard here 

Bvph. Oh! Ue^him goda' 
Where'er my hero treads the paths of war 
List on his nde , against the hostile jav'lui 
Uprear his mighty oudder, to his snonl 
Lend the fierce whirlwind's rage that he may 

With wreaths of triumph, and vnth conquesla 



lc.l,dr,l^,OOgle 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER. 



Eupk. From thee the crown! From thte! 
Euphnsiu's childien 
Shall on a nobler Imins fbuiii) their nghts, 
On their own virtue, and a people's choice. 

Dioa. Misguided woman ! 

Euph. A^ of thee protection 1 
The father's valour shall protect his boy. 

Dum. Rush not on sure deelniction ; ere too 
late 
Accept our proffei'd grace. The lerms are these; 
Instant send forth a mesaage to your husband ; 
Bid him draw off hia Gre^t^ 'unmoor his fleet, 
And measure back his way. Full well he knows 
You and your father are my hostages ; 
And for iiis treason both may answer. 

Euph. Think'st thou then 
So meanly of my Phocion t— Dost thou deem lum 
Poorly wound ap to a mere fit of vaSour, 
To'uielt away in a weak woman's tear ^ 
Ohl thou dost little know him; know'st but little 
Of hiseialled soul. With gen'rous ardour 
. S^lt will he urge the great, the glorious plan, 
And g^n the ever honour'd, biioht reward 
Whii3> fame entwines around the patriot's brow, 
And bids for ever flourish on his tomb, 
For nations freed, and tyrants laid in dust. 

Dion. By heaven, this night Evander breathe 



Dien. Obdurate'. 

Here ends all parley. Now your father's doom 
Is fii'd, irrevooiWy fii'd. 



Euph. Thy doom, perhaps. 
May first be iii'd : the doom that 



At Corinth, Dionyuuei 

Divn. Ha I this night 
Evander dits ; and thou, deleBted fair ! 
Thou shall behold him, while inventive cruelty 
Pursues his wearied life through every ner»e. 
I scorn all dull delay. This very night 
Shall sale my great revenge, [Exit. 

Euph. This night perhapa 
Shall whelm thee (lOwn, no more to blast creation. 
My father, who inhabit'st with the dead. 
Now let me seek Aee in the lonely tomb. 
And tremble there with anxious hope and fear, 
[Exit. 

SCENE n.—The inside of the Temple. 
Enter Phocion and Mei.*nthon. 

Mel. Summon all 
Thy wonted firmness ; 
A living king is number'd with the 
I'll lake my post, near where the jollar'd aisle 
Supports the central dome, that no alarm'- 
Siirprise you in the pious aet. [EiiJ, 

Pho. If here 
They both are found, if in Evander's arms 
Euphrasia meets my search, the falsa alone 
For all my snff'ringa, all afflictions past. - 
Yen, ! wli seek them— ha! — the gaping tomb 
Invites my slepB — now be propitious, heaven '. 

[EnUrs the Tomb. 



Enter Euphrasis. 
Euph. Al! hail, ye caves of horror ' — In Chu 

.,jivine content can dwell, the heartfelt tear. 
Which, as it falls, a father's trembling hand 
Will calch, and wipe the sorrows from my eye. 
Who's there t—Evanderl—Ansmer— tell me— 

Re-enCer Phocion, Jrom the Tomb. 

Pho. Wliatvo!ceisthat7— Melanlhon! 

Euph, Ha I Those souniis— 
Speak of Evander; leil me that he lives, 
Or lost Euphrasia dies. 

Pho. Heart-swelling transport t 
An thou Euphrasia ■! ^tis thy Phodon, love; 
Thy husband comes. 

Euph. Support m^; reach thy hand. 

Pha. Once more 1 clasp thee m this fond em- 

Euph, What miracle has brought thee to me 1 
Plu>. Love 
Insptr'd my heart, and guided all my ways. 
Euph. Oh I thou dear wand'rer ! But where- 
'— here 1 

satisfy a mother; 



JEupA. My father lives, sepulchred ere his time 
Here In Eudoda's tomb ; let me conduct then 

Pha. I came this moment thence. 

Euph. And saw Evander'! 

Pho. Alas! I found him not. 

Eujih. Hot found him there? 
And have they then— have the fell murd'rers- 
Oh! [i*toin(«. 

Pho. I've been loo rash ; revive, my love, revive I 
Thy Phocion calls ; the gods will guard Evander, 
And save him to tewardthy mrichless virtue. 
Ee-erdcT Mblanthon, icith Evander. 

E-can. Lead me, Melanlhon ; guide my aged 

Where is hel let me see him. 

Pho. My Euphraaa, 
Thy father lives ;— thou venerable man ! 
Behold— I cannot fly to thy embrace, 

EDan. Euphrasia! Phocion too! Yes, both aw 

Oh ! let me thus, thus, strain you to my hearl. 

Ewph. Why, my father, 
Why thus adventure forth ^ The strong alarm 
O'erwhelmy my spirits. 

BiiUi. I went forth, my child. 
When all was dark, and awfui silence round, 
To throw me prostrate at the altar's foot, 
And crave the care of heaven for thee and thine, 
Meianthon there — 

Enter Philotas. 

Phil, Inevitable ruin hovers o'er you : 
The tyrant's fury mounts into a bfaze ; 
Unsated yet with blood, he calls aloud 
For thee, Evander ; thee his rage hath ordet'd 
This moment to his preBence. 

Evan. Lead me to him ; 
His presence hath no terror for Evander. 



r,l^,OOgLC 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER. 



Ill perish rather. His poUc; has granted 
A clay's suspense from arms; yeteren now 
Hi? troops prepare, in the doad uiidnight hour, 
With base surprise, to slorm Timoleon's camp. 

Evan, And dathhe grant H&lse insidious truce, 
I'o turn the hour of peace to blood and horror ■! 

J^aph. I Itnoiv the monster well:.wlien spe- 

6ecslms ^ looks, the ranlUing heart within 
Teems with destruction; 
Mountains iiurl'd up in air, and moalCen rocks, 
Anil all the land with desolation cover'd. 

M:L rjow, Phodon, now on tliee our liopB de- 
Ply ta Timoleon; lean grant a passport; 
Bouse him to vengeance^ on the tyrant turn 
His own insidious arts, or all is lost. 

Pka. Evander, thou ;' a(ui thou, my host Eu- 
phraMs, 
Both shall attend mj HighL 

Mel. It ware in van; 
Th" attempt would hazard all. 

Eaph. Together here 
We will remain, safe in the cave of death ; 
And WMt oar freedonj iirom thy conqu'ring arm. 

Eran. Oh ! would the gods roll back the stieani 

And give this arm Jie anew that it boasted 
At Tauromenium, when its force reastless 
Uow'd down the ranks of war ; I then might 

The battle's rage, and, ere Evander die, 
Add still anolJier laurel to my brow. 

Eicph. Enough of laurell'd victory yonr sword 
Hath re^'d in earlier days. 

Etan. And shall my sword,' 
When the great caus^ bf. liberty invites. 
Remain inactive, unperfonnuig quite 1 
Yonth, second youth, rekindles in my veins : 
Though w(.rn with age, Ibis arm will know its 

Will show that victory has not forgot 
Acquaintance with this hand. — And yet — O 

It will not be : (he momenlary blaze 
Sinks and expu^ : I have eurviv'd it all : 
Suiviv'd my rfflgj", my people, and myself. 
Eupk. Fly,Phoc!on, lly! Melanthon will con- 

ia& thee. 
Mel. AM when th' assaalt begins, my feilhtiil 
cohorts 
Sliall form thrir ranks around this sacred dome. 
P}m. And my poor taptive fiiends, my brave 
compuihms 
Taken in battle, wilt thou guard thdr lives t 
Phii. Tru^ Co my care ; no danger shall assail 

Pho. By heaven, the glorioas expectation swells 
This panting bosom I Yes, EuiArasia, yes ; 
A. while I leave you to the care of heaven. 
Fell Dionysius, tremble ! ere the dawn 
TlmoleoH thunders at your gatfla ; the rage. 
The pent-up rage, of twenty thousand Greeks, 
Shall burst at once ; and the tumultuous loar 
Alarm the aslonish'd wortd, 

Buon. Yet, ere thou go'st, young man. 
Attend my words : though guilt may oft provoke. 
As now it does, just vengeance on its head, 
In meroT punish it. The rage of slaughter 
0an add no trophy to the victor's triumph ; 



Conquest is proud, inexorable, lierce ; 
It is humanity ennobles all. 
Pho. Farewell ; the midnight hour shall giv< 

[Exil urfift MeLantbom and Philotab. 

Euph. Ye guardian deities, watch all his ways. 

Evan. Come, my Euphrasia, 
Together we will pour 
Our hearts in praise, in tears of adoration. 
For all the wondrous goodness lavish'd on us. 

■ ACT V. 

SCENE I. 

Enter Dionysius and Calippus. 

Dion. Ere ^e day cloa'd, while yet the busy eye 

&£ght view theu camp, then: stations, and theii 



Cal. From the watch-tower I saw them ; all 
things spoke 
A foe secure, and discipUne rekx'd. 
Dion. Theirfolly gives themto my sword : are 

My orders issued 1 

Cal. All. 

Dion,. The troops retir'd 
To gain recruited vigour from repose 1 

Oil. The dty round lies hush d in sleep. 

Let each brave oflicer, of chosen valour, 
Meet at the citadeF. An hour at fuithest 
Before tJia davra, 'tis fixed to stflroi Aeit camp ; 
Haste, Calippus, 
Ply to thy post, and bid Euphrasia enter. 

[Exit C*L. 
Evander dies this night : Euphrasia loo 
Shall be dispos'd of. Curse on Phocion's fraud, 
That from my power withdrew their infent boy. 
In bim the seed of future kings were crueh'd. 
And the whole hated Une at once extinguish'd. 
Enter Euphrasia. 
Dion. Once more approach and hear me ; tie 

A time to waste in the vain war of words. 
A crisis big with horror is at hand. 
T meant to spare the stream of Uood, that soon 
Shall delnse yonder [dains. My fair proposals 
Thy haughty spirit has with scorn rejected. 
And now, by heaven I here in thy very aghl, 
Evander breathes his last. 

Euph. If yet there 's wanting 
A crime to hll tiie measure of thy guilt, 
Add that black murder to the dreadful list ; 
With that complete the horrors of thy reign, 

Dion. Woman, beware: Philotas is at hand, 
And to our presence leads Evander. All 
Thy dark complol»ings, and thy treach'rous arts, 
Have prov'd abortive, 

Euph. Ha !— What new event I 
And IS Philotas 6lsel— Has he betray'd him 7 

{Atidt.. 

Dion. What, ho I Philotas. 

Enter Philotas. 
Euph. How my heart sinks within me f 
Dion. Where 's your pris'ner 1 
Phil. Evander is no more. 



, Google 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTBK. 



Ihon Ha '—Death has tobh'd me 
Of half niy great revenge 

Pki! Worn out with anguish 
i saw hfe ebb apace With studied art 
Wo gave each cordiBl drop, alas I in ram , 
He heav'd a. sigh , iniok d his daughter s niaah, 
Smil'd, andexpird 

Dton Bnng me his hoary head 

Phil You n pardon Sir, my over hasty leal 
T gate the body to the fbaming surge, 
r&viR the sleep rock deapiB d 

Dion Now then thou tfel at my vengeance 

Euph Glory in it, 
Eiult and triumph Thv worst shaft is sped. 
Yet Btdl the uncoQ^ura'a ound wilil scorn can 

'Uiue tbrm'd and Whicli Qie gods protect 
Dtmi Pbilo^, tear her hence, sbe et^l not 

'fi& moment bear her hence, you know the rest, 
J^Beeoor will obey d , that done, with all 
AwBmarsspeei^jilt^^me at ^Citadel, 
There meet ^e fipneanbom this nf^ht shall 1™° 
TofiBedom, victory, to glonouB haTOc, ^ 
■ ' ■ ' oflhaQieo" 



I 



DD of Itia Gieaannai 
my thaiikB, Fbuotas 



These t*ar8 otlpat th' emotions o( my heart 
But, oh I ahould Oteece deler 

PhU Dispel thy fcars, . 

Phocion will bnpg relief, or, should the lYrant 
Assault their camp, J»T1 ineei; a msipliall d foe 
Lrt me^coDduj* ^h m nW ffo\ ^ , 

Etiph Ah! mereEvaraier,iiaWanadisarmd, 
Defenceless qqi!^ may.mp^ sorqe pulgan stroke 

Phal Lo 1 here a Weapon , Bear this dagger to 
him ,, 

la the drear monument rfiouH t^ot^le ?leps , 
Dare to approach him, they must Mitet singty. 
TluB guards the passage , man by (nan tfi^ die 
There maj'at thou dwell amidst the wild commo- 

Ewph Ye pitying gods, protect niy father 
thewf [E^e«nl 

SCENE II— The Ctladel 



EoferDioi 



js Calippus andee 



than Ye brave associates, who =o oft havi 
shftrt , ., 

Our toil and danger in the field of g 
My fellow wamws, wM no gr-" -■ 
Fortune has aivmik Jn hi* 

mSKi't^^^U'WiUs^oIiII ol 

Expands and rwu«','BJ^?«^fe°i^W*- 
Follow the impulsive araonr, fliltow me. 
Your king, your lea^^ , m ^ fcenffly gloom 

Whoroaroh'dthKmghMbtJafihdllteltar.toredcem 
From th' mvader's po^ d^ r^ve land i 



Cat Lead to the onset , Jtoepe shiil find wo 
bear 
Hearts prodigal ol blood, when hononr calls 
"caolv'd to conquer of to die m freedom. 

Dam Thus i ve lesolv d when the declming' 

Hath veit d her orb, out silent match begins 
The Older thus Callppu'i, thoii lead forth 
Ibena s sons mth the NUtnidcan bands. 
And line the shore— Perdiflas, be it thine 
To march thy cohorts to the mountam'a foot. 
Where the wood skirts the v&lley, there mskn 

halt 
_ _. jrave Amvntor stretch alon? the rale 
Ourseit with the embodied cavatry 
Clad in t^ir mad d cuirara, will circle round 
To where their camp eilends its farthest hne , 
Unnilmber'd tortiheB there shall bla^e at oi 



, „__, and carnage stalk around 

Unsparing unrelenting , drench yOOr sAo/d^ 
In hostileTjlood, and not in destruiltion 

Enter an Officer 
Ha ' speak , unfold thy piirpdee 

Offi Instant afm, 
To atms my hege, the foe bWaks m npon us, 
The BUbtemineous path is theiis , that way 
Their bAnd invades the Cily, autik u sfeep 

Dvm Treason's it ff<U;l:,<teteeted,treach'roatt 



use an me war ny to your aev rai |hjvw, 
id instant bhlbgallSyJ^cutie nl itto^ 



Enter EcpaiiAsiA, Erixene, and l^mdte At 
tendanls 

Etiph Which way, Erutene, which wav, my 
vugms 
^ball we direct our steps 1 What sacred altaT 
Chsp on our knees 1 

Enx Alas 1 the homd (umult 
%pr«ida the destruction wjdei On every aids 
'nie victors shouts, the groans of marder'd 

wretches, 
In void confiisiou nse Onte more descend 
Eudocia a toml) , theK thou majr'st find a shelter 

Buph. Anon, Eruene, I mean to viat, 
Ferliip for the W Bitie, & MMUeT's urn 
Hm'&a^ UOtM, Ihili MstltUteHt i^ dJath, 
Sbould^tnne.pnMper the M tn«tlfs arms. 
This Ai^ t}^ m H^ nib &iM hla pfimiF, 
ma mTAMfnW eHtbtribUs ali m peace 

[Fbmrmh 

Ertx Hark' 

Evph The din 



tsnOdenhUIMI Agailtl Thby rush upon us I 
The portal opbne,kil1^tilb»e, beholdr 
War hamdUar.idv^athiMeiied title, 
Nadtdgi^ti'asii&ei^liioW [WarttkemwiK. 
Enter Diontsius a/nd Camfpits, tmtft several 
SolOiera 
Dion Here*rfl I tmwktheir siege, here stand 

And brave em to Uie last 



./Google 



afwrnni.} 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER, 



Purniyrevfiiige,Hf^W"i3l By heaven^ W^wU , 
VengeapM awarta thy,gDrft^anfl tbsgdM sw(id. 

TMs night has DiBBBacred 

BflU lift mBsew il i^ay, [^^ yfiw^ capf? i^iit 

An4 npituMte joni: fate 

Own Fr^j)m(|t))i>u?ala¥e' 
My rage 19 qf l^ ^tpa bj l)e«veD, she dies 

Eiitar EvjHnBB ^om the /Wifr 
£vfin Honor I ibriiear ' Tiioa muid'rer, 
th; hdnd ' 
The gnils l^holil th^, horrible asaasaiQ 1 
BeatraintbeUevCi, )^w«rea«tabtoheaverij, 
All natuie sbadd^ at it ! Will no friend 
Am m a cause lite.t!imi,i%ttuij(aWdli 
Slpkfti*U»l»l»9S-n#tq(f Lpl ^~—l- 
Praetrate aolkBip^mg-m %«"- -„-, — 



hoidliuiil 

Ma; the fiends teize Fhilotse t Tlench'iouB eliive ' 
'Tis well than hv'st , thy detEh were poor revenge 
From any hand but mine. [Qfers to stmke. 

Euph. No, tyra ' 



[Rus, 



ng before Evak 



I have provoli'd your vengeance ; through this bo 

Open a passage ; first en me^ on me, 
Exhaust jonr fury ; every power above 
Commands thee to respect that aged head ; 
His wither'd frame wants lilood to glut thy rage 
Strike here; these veins are fiiU; h^e's blood 

enough ; 
The purple tide will gush to glad thy sight. 

[A Jtoarish of trampets. 
Dion. Ha I the fierce tide of war 
This way conies rushing on. 

[Exit, with Officers. 
Euph. [Emfirncini-ETANDER.] Oh! thus, my 
iathei, 
We'll perish thus together. 

Dion, [fniftmii.]Barthe gates; 
Close ev'ry passage, and repel their force. 

Esaa. And must I see thee bleed 1 Oh I for a 

Bring, bring, me daggers ! 

Euph. Ha! 

Re-enter Dionysidb. 

Dion. Guards seize the slave, 
And give him to my rage. 

Evan. [Seiied by the Guards.] Oh ! spare her, 

Inhuman villains! 
E-apk. Now, one glorious efibrt I 
Dion. Let me despatch ; thou traitor, thus my 

Eaph, A daughter's arm, fell monster, strifees 
the blow. 

[Stabskim; he falls and dies. 
Behold, all Sicily, behold !— The point 
Glows with the tyrant's blood. Ye slaves, [To 
the Guards.'} look there; 



A ^uTish. of Trumpets Enter Phouion, 

MELANfHON, if^ 

PAo Now let the raonsl*r yield My beM 

Euphrasia 1 
Euph My lord I my Phodon I welcome to my 



shaQ sea him 

hus to behold you both- 
Evan To her direct hy looks , there fii thy 

And gaze with wonder Jiere The hfe I gave her^ 
Oh, she has ua'd it for me noblest ends I 
To fill each duty , make her father feel 
The purest loy the heart dissolving bliss, 
To have a gmtefu! child But has the rage 
or slaughter ceas'dl 
Pko It has 

Evan Where IS Timoleonl 
Pho He guard^ the cil tdel , there gives hv 
orders 
To calm the uproar and recall from carnage 
ig Iroopa 
_ ...n un' once a~" 
Thy sway shaU bless 
Timoleon conquers ; to redress the wrongs 
Of bleeding Sicily the hero comes. 
Thee, goodMelanthon, thee, thou gen'rous man, 
His justice shall reward. Thee loo, Philotas, 
Whose sympathizing heart could feel the touch 
" " joft humanity, (he hero's houpty, 

brightest honours, shall be lavish'd on thee, 
inder too will place thee near his throne ; 
And show mankind, even on this shore of bdng 
That virtue still shall meet ita sure reward. 

Phil. I am rewarded ; feelings such as mine 
Are worth all disniliea ; my heart repays me. 
Evan. Come,let us seek Timoleon ; to his care 
will commend ye both : for now, alas i 
Thrones and dominions are no more for me. 
To thee 1 give mj' crown ; yes, ihou, Euphrasia, 
Shalt reign in Sicily. An<^ oh I ye powers. 
In that bright eminence of care and peril, 
Watch over ail her ways; conduct and guide 

Dodness you inspir'd ; that she may prove, 
Jistress hke mine invade the land, 
A parent to her people ; stretch the ray 
Of filial pety to times unborn. 
That men may hear her imeiampled virtue, 
And learn to emulate the Grecian Daughter ! 

[Exeut\t. 



EPILOGUE. 



Daughter's compliments to all ^ 

, epilogue you wilf not call i 

For leering, giggling, would be out of season, 

And hopes 1^ me, you'll hear a little reason, 

A &ther rais'd from death ! a nation sav'd I 

That tyrant stahb'd, and by her nerveless arm. 
While virtue's spsll sorrounding guards cOuld 
charm! 



The Orecii 



./Google 



THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER. 



.n her breast, 



48 



Can she, tliis sacred t( 
Tnrn father, freedom, vinue, an m jesi i 
Wate jou, ye fiur ones from your sweet repose, 
As wanton zephyrs wake the sleeping rose f 
Dispel those clouds which o'er your oveJids crept, 
Which our wise bard mieWok, and swore you 

wepti 
Shall she to macaronies hfe restore. 
Who yawn'd, half dead, anil cura'd Ihe tragic 

bore? 
Diamias em smirking to their nightly haunt, 
Where dice and cards their moon-struck minds 

snchsnti 
Some, muffled Hke the witches in Mackteth, 
Brood o'er the magic drcle, pale as death ! 
Others the caldron go aboat — about ! 
&nd Tvin enters, as the /otes tun ool. 

Bubble, bubble. 

Toil and trouble, 

Passions burn, 
And bets are double ! 

Double, double ! 

Toil and trouble, 

PasaoUB ham, ^ 
And all is bubble. * 



t*c 



Bol jest sprt, ibr scandal forms these tales; 
Falseliood be mute ; let justice hold the scales. 
~ tons were ne'er enslav'd by evil powers : 
■ peace and wedded love they give the midnigh 



rattling dice can wabe 



From slumbers pure i 

Who rtiake the laws, were never knovm to break 

'Tis false, ye fair, whateser spleen may say, 
That you down folly's tide are 6ome away. 
You never wish at deep distress to sneer : 
For eyes, though bright, are brighieT through a 

Should it e'er be this nation's wretched fate' 
To laugh at all that 's good, and wise, and great j 
Let genius rouse, the friend of humankind. 
To break those spells which charm and sink the 



Let tragedy— a warning to the times. 
Lift high her dagger at exalted crimes ; 
Drive from the heart each base, unmanly pasrion, 
Till nirtue triumph in despite of Jathioa. 



./Google 



THE MAN OF THE WORLD: 

A C02KZBDY, 

IN FIVE ACTS. 

BY CHARLES MACKLIN. 



REMARKS. 
This play was pwfomed in Ireland, 1764, uiidft the litis of ■' Tie Tni. 
plBUBe due lo Ita grsal merit. It vras not tiU 1731 llist official peraiiBsion 
Iflndon, where it has ever sinec eraineally increaaefl the delighls of thf 
Macklin sualained the character of Sir Perlinai Maaycophanl, wMch was 
till the anpearance in it of tbe late Mr. Cooke, who is gener^ly thoaghl tc 



Mr. Mac) 






DRAMATIS PERSf)N^ 



SEBflEANT EjTHEHaiDE 

CouNSELLos Plausible, 

TOMUMS, 



Mr Codce. 
Mr C Kemile 
ih Mttnay 
Mr Davmporl 
Mr Beverlev 
Mr BmatiA. 
Mr AiioO. 



I'AIII' RUDOLFBA LUUDER- 



ScENK.— Sir Pertina 



n miles from London. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I.— A Library, 
Enter Betty and Footman. 
Bet, The postman is at the gate, Sar 



;pray 



Btop and take'iii tlie letters. 

Sam. John the gardener is gone for them, Mrs. 

Bet Bid John bring them to ma, Sam: tell 
him, I'm fiere in the library. 

will send him to jour ladjBhip in s 
[Eiit Sam. 



«raok, Madam. 



tNan 



Nan. MisB Conalanlia desir 
Mistress Betty. 



i Ut spealE lo you^ 



Bet. How is she now, Nanny'? Any better'? 

Nan. Something— but very low spirited still. I 
verily believe it is as you say. 

Bet, Nay.Iwould tdtcmyoalhofitjleannot 
be deceived in that point, Nanny. Ay, ehe ia 
certainly breeding, depend upon it. 

JVon, Why, so the houwkeeper thinlts too. 

Bet. Oh, if she is not, there is no bread in nine 
loaves ; nay, I know the fether, the man that 
ruined her. 

Nan. The deuce you do 1 

Bet, Ab sure as you are alive, Nanny, or I am 
greatly deceived— and yet I can't be deceived 
neither.— Was not that tbo cook thai came gallop- 
ing so hard over the common just now 1 
19 



j.^t^iOOglc 



THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 



Ia( 



Nan. The same : liow very hard he galloped ; 
he has been but three quarters of an hour, he says, 
coniiug from Hyde-park-corner ! 

Bei. And what tune wiU the &mily he down I 

Nan. He has orders to have dinner ready by 
five. There are to be lawyers, and a great deal 
of company here— He fancies there is to be a 
private wedding to-night between our young 
masler Charles, and loro Lumbercoui't's daughter, 
the Scotch lady; wbo, he say», is just come from 
Bath, on purpose to be married to him. 

Bet, Ay, Jjady Rodolpha [ nay, like enough, 
fbr 1 know it has been talked of a good while — 
Well, go tell Miss Gonslautia that f will be with 
her itnmedialely. 

Nan. I shalC Mrs. Betty. [E:rii. 

Bel. So ! I find they all begin bi suspect her 
conditiorii that 'spare: it will soon reach my lady's 

Eater John, jcUh. Letters, 
Well, John, ever a letter for me % 

John. Ho, Mrs. Betty ; but here's one flir Miss 
Oonstantia. 

Bet. Give it me — hum — My lady's hand. 

John. And here is one, which the postman 
says is for my youngtnasl«r — But it is a strange 
direction. [Reads] 5!i Cftortes Bseriim, Esq. 

Bet. Oh yes, yes ! that is for Master Charles, 
John; ibr he has dropped his father's 



Betty "I 

Bet. Why, you must know, John, that my 
lady, his mother, was an Egerlon by her lather ; 
she stole a match with our old master. Sir Stan- 
ley Egerton, that you just mentioned, dying an 
old bachelor, and mortally hating our old master, 
and the whole gang of the Macaycophants — he 
left his whole estate to master Claries, who was 
bis eodson; hxA on condign though, that he 
ahouTd drop his father's name of Maesycopbant, 
and take up that of Egerton \ and that is the 
reason, John, why the parliament has made him 
change his name. 

Jmn. 1 am glad that master Charles has got 
the estate, however ; for he is a sweet tempered 
gentleman. 

Bel. As ever liveil— But como, John, as I 
know you love Miss Constantia, and 



shalTo 



y her letters to her. 



:d to you. Where 

Bet. In the housekeeper's room, settling the 
dessert, — Give me Mr. Egerton's letter, and I 
will leave it on the table inliia dressing-room. — I 
see it is from his brother Sandy. So, now go ajid 
deliver your letter to your sweetheart, John. 

John. That I will ; and I am much beholden 
lo you ibr the iavour of letting me carry it to her ; 
for though she would never Tiave me, yet I shall 
always love her, and vrish to be near her, she is 
so sweet a creature — -Your servant, Mrs. BelW. 
[ExU. 

Bet. Your servant, John; ha I ha I ha! poor 
fellow, he perfectly dosts on her ; and dwly follows 
her about with nosegays and fruit — and the first 
of every thing in the season— Ay, and my young 
master, Charles, too, is in as tna a way as the 
gardener— in short, every body loves her, and that 
IS one reason why I hate her — for my part, I 



der what the deuce tne men see in her — A crea- 
le that was taken in lor charity ! I am sure she 
not so handsome. I wish she was out of the 
femily once; if she was, I might then stand a chance 
of being my lady's fevourite myself Ay, and 
perhaps of getting one of my young masters fbr a 
sweetheart, or at ieast the chaplain— but as to 
Mm, there would be no such great catch, if I 
should get him. I will try for him. however : and 
my tirst step shall be to let the doctor know all 
I have discovered about Conslanlia's intrigues 
with her spark at Hadley — Yes, that will do; for 
the doctor loves to talk with me, and always smiles 
and jokes with me, and he loves to hear me talk — 
And I verily beUeve, he I he I he I that be has a 
sneabiM kindness for roe, and this story 1 know 
will male him have a good opinion of my hones- 
ty—And (hat, I am sure, will be one step to- 
wards—Oh! bless me, here he comes, and mjr 
young master with him. I'll watch an opportuni- 
"7 to speak wUh him, as soon as he is alone ; for 
will blow her up, I am resolved, as great a 
ivourite, and as cunning as she is. [Exil. 

Enter Eoertom and Sidney. 
Eger. I have done. Sir. You have refused. I 
ave nothing more to say npon the subject — I am 
satisfied, 
Sid, Come, come, correct this warmth, it is the 
ily w«A ingredient in your nature, and you 
ought to watch it careftilly. Prom your earhe^ 
youth, your fether has honoured me with the care 
of your education, and the genera! conduct of 
your mind ; and however singular and morese his 
behaviour may be towards others, to me he lias 
ever been respectful and Uberal. I am now under 
bis roof too ; and because I will not abet an un- 



Sid. Only nitie that appear, Charies, and you 
know you may command me, 

Eger. I am sensible how unseemly it appears 
in a son, to descant on the unamiable pas^ons of 
a parent ; but as we ate alone, and fiiends, I can- 
not help observing In my own defence, that whpn 
a fether will not allow the >ise of reason to any 
of his femily- when his pursuit of greatness 
makes him a slave abroad only to be a tyrant at 
home — and when, merely to gratify his own am- 
bition, he would marry lus son into a femily he 
detests — sure, Sidney, a son thus circumstanced 
(from the dignity of human nature, and the feel- 
ings of a loving heart) has a ru;ht not only tc 
protest against the blindness of the parent, hut to 
that virtue and happiness 



^eE 



Sid. Theviolenttemj>erofSirPerlinai,Iown, 
cannot on many occasionfi bo defended ; but still 
your intended alliance with lord Lumbercoutt— 

Eger. Oh! contemptible I a trifling, quaint, 
debauched, voluptuous, servile fbd ; the mere 
lackey 

. factious , - - - ... 

of a noble fortnnej has had the des- 
racablo satisfiiction, and the mfemops honour, of 
being kiclced up and kicked down— kicked in and 
3ut— just as the insolence, compasion, or t)iB 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



liency of leaders, predominaWd ; and now- 
forsaken by all parties,— his whole 

. tradesman's biU, 

Sid. Well, but dear Cliaries, you 
ed my lori but his daughter. 
Eger. Who is BS disagreeable for a. 
her father is for a friend or an aJly, 
Sid. [Lavghing.] What, her Scotch accent, 



THE MAN OP THE WOKLD. 

n; I hope I do 






Isyo, 



I think it 



objection 



o; — upon my honour — not in the least. 

it entertaining m her— -bnt were it other- 

in liecency — and indeed in national skeo- 

iinc a Scotsman myself) I can have no 

her on that account — besides, she is 

my near relation. 

Sid. So I understand. But, pray, Charlea, 
how came Lad? Rodolpha, who I find was born 
m England, to be bred in Scotland 1 

Eger. Prom the dotage irf an old, ibnnal, ob- 
flUnate|Htili;rich, Sootchgraiidmother: who upon 
promise of lea.vina this grandchild all her fortune, 
would have the girl sent to her to ScoUand, when 
she \ii'aa but a year old ; and there has she been bred 
Up ever since, with this old lady, in all die vanil 
splendour, and unlimiled indulgence, that fon 
ness and admiration could bestow on a spoiled 
chiM, a fencied beauty, and a pretended wit. Anc' 
is this a woman fit lo mate my happiness? this 
the partner Sidney would recommend Die for life ' 
to you, who best know me, I appeal, 

Sid. Why, Charles, it is a delicate poinl, unfit 
for me to detarmine— besides, your fathe. ' 
his heart upon the match — — 
Eger. AH that I know— But still I 

insist upon your candid iudgmeiil Is she the 

kind oTwoman that you think could possibly. ■ 
tjibufe to my happiness i I beg you will give 



Sid. Not in the least, Mrs. Betty 
Bet. I humbly beg pardon, Sir;— but I— 1 
wanted to break my mind to your honour ab 
I— a— a scrujile— that— that lies upon my c 
icience — and indeed I should not have presun 
trouble yon— but that I know you are my 
young master's inend, and my old master's tWend, 



you your due, Sir, you 

ever went mto a pulpit. 

ha ! do you think so, Mrs. 



Sid. Hal 
Betty 7 
Be;. Ay, ii 

never gives a 









3r that dt 



irdid— 









EBer. You make me happy— i 
you I never could be, with your judgment against 

Sid But pray, Charles, suppose I had been 
TO indiscreet as to have agreed to marry you ■- 
Conalantia, would she have ""——•-J -i-^-i 

Eg^. That 1 
suppose so. 

Sid, Did you never speak to her then upon 
that subject T 

Eger. Ill general terms only: never directly 
requested her consent in form. But I will this 
very moment— for I have no asylum from my 
father's arlnlrary design, but by Constantia's 
■rms,^ Pray do not stir from hence. 1 will re 
turn instantly. I know she will submit to your 
advice, atid I am sure you will persuade her to 
my wish; as my Ufe, my peace, my earthly hap- 
piness, depend on my Constantia. [Exit. 

Sid. Poor Charles I he little dreams that I love 
Constantia too ; but t« what degree I knew not 
myself till he importuned me to join their hands — 
Yes, I love, but must not lie a rival ; for he is as 
dear to me as ftaJemal fondness— My benefactor 
my friend '. 

Enter Betty, running vp to him. 
Bel. I beg your worship's pardon for my 



J— neither behind oi .^, 

IT before one's fece. 

Sid. Ha ! ha I ha ! Why you are a mightv 
wellspoken woman, Mrs, Betty; and I am 
"ightily beholden to you for your good character 

Set. Indeed, Sir, it is no more than you de- 

rve, and what all the servants say of you. 

Sid. I am much obliged to them, Mrs. Betty. 
^ Jt pray what are jour commands with me 1 

Bet, Why, I will tell your reverence— to be 
sure I am but a servant, as a body may say ; and 
every tub should stand upon its own bottom— 

[She ia/tes hold of him famUiarly, looking 
JiTst about very caiUiousiy, and speitka 
in a loajamiliar Ume qf great secrecy.] 

My young master is now in the cbina-room ; in 

close conference with Miss Constantia, I know 
what they are about — hot that is no business of 
mine— and therefore I made bold to Usten a Utile, 
because you know. Sir, one would be sure — before 
one t«ok away any body's reputation. 

Sid. Very true, Mrs. Betty- veiy true, indeed. 
Bet. Oh! heavens forbid that I should take 
away any young woman's good name, unless I 
had a reason for it— but, Sir— if I am in this place 
alive — as 1 Ustened with my ear close to tiie door, 
ly young master wJt Miss Constantia 
the plain mariiaKB question—Upon which I 
started — I trembled — nay, my very conscience 
stirred within me so — -that I coukl not help 
peeping through the keyhole, 

Sid. Ha ! ha ! ha ! and so your conscience made 
"ou peep through the keyhole, Mrs. Betty I 
Bet. It dM indeed, your reverence. And there 
saw my young master upon his knees — Lord 
bless us I kissing her hand^ as if he would oat it ! 
nd protesting and assunng her he knew that 
^■our worship would consent to (he matoh. And 

then the tears ran down her cheeks as ^st 

SM, Ay! 

Bet. They did indeed Sir ;— I would not tell 
your reverence a Ue for the world, 

Sid. 1 believe it, Mrs. Betty. And what did 
Constantia say to all this 7 

Bet. Oh ! on I she is sly enough — She looks aa 
if butter would not melt m her month— but all is 
not gold tliat glitters— smooth water, you know, 
runs deepest. 1 am sorry, veiy sorry indeed— 
my young master makes himself such a fool- 
but um ! ha ! take my word for it, he 

is not the man — for though she looks as mbdcst 



Jr,,l._.OOgLC 



THE MAN OP THE WORLD. 



together a whole hour in the dark grove— and 

and—ahti! embrace— aiid kiss— and — weep at 
porting— why then— then you know — ah! it is 



I beg your worehip will n 



irlaE 



royou, 



liave'tiiey did any hatm— that is, nol in the grose— 
at least, not when I was there — and she nmy be 
honestly married, for aaght 1 know— She maj be 
very hoiieat, for aught 1 know — heaven forbid I 
ehould say any ham of hei^I only say— that 
they did meet in the dark walk — and perhaps 
nine months hence — ay, remember, Sir— I mid 
that — a — certain person in this femily — nine 
months hence — may ask me to stand godmother- 
only remember — foe I think I know what's what — 
when I s«e it, as well as another. 

Sid. No donbt you do, Mrs, Betty. 

Bet. I do indeed, Sur ; and so your serrant. Sir ; 
[Oaing, refum*,] but I hope your worship will 
not mention my name in (his huaness ; — or that 
yon had any item from me about it, 

Sid. 1 shall not, Mrs, Betty. 

Bet. For indeed, Sir, I am ] 
do I iove fending or proving— . , 

Sir, I hate all tiiaing and tattling— and gossijang, 
sndbaekla^- —^-^■- ■ — - ~ — „',^h^. 






id taking away a person's cha- 

Sid. I observe you do, Mrs. Betty. 
Bel. Ido, indeed. Sir;— I am the furthest from 
it of any person in the world 
Sid, 1 dare say you are. 
Set. I am, indeed, Sir; and so. Sir, your hum- 
Me servant. 

a'd. Your servant, Mrs. Betty. 
Bel. So I I see he believes every word I say ; 
that 's chiming- I vrill do her business for her, I 
wn resolved. [Aside: exit. 

Sid. What can this ridiculous creature mean- 
by her dark walk 1—1 see envy is as malignant 
in a paltry wailing wench, as in the vainest, or 
the most ambitious lady of the court. Itisalwayi 
an infellible mark of ttie basest nature; andmenl 
m the lowest aa in the highest atation, must fee. 
the shafts of envy's constant agents— fitlsehood 
and slander. 

Enter Sam. 
Sim. Sir, Mr. Egerton and Miss Conslantia 
desire to speak with you in the cliina-room. 

Sid Very weU Sam [Bxit Sam.] I will 
tee them— what s to be done'?— inform his father 
of his uitended mamage —no;— that mu^ not 
he — lor the overbeanng temper and ambitious 
policy ot &ir Perttnax would eiceed al! bounds 
of moderation B\rt this young man must not 
marry Conslantia- 1 know it will offend him— no 
matter It is our duty to oflend, when the oAence 
saves the man we love from a predpitate action. — 
Yes, I must discharge the duty of my ftmction 
and a fiiend, though I am sure to lose the man 
whom I intend to serve. [Exit, 

ACT II. 
SCENE 1.—A Ubrary, 
Enter Eqerton and Constahtia. 
Om Mr, Sidney is not here, Sir. 
Eger. I assure you 1 left him here, and I beg- 
ged that he would stay till I refurneil. 



^ His prudence, you see. Sir, has made him 
, therefcra me had better drfer the subjec*. 
is present — In the meantime. Sir, I hope 
ill permit me to mention an ahiiir that has 
1 akrmed and perplexed me. I suppose 
you guess what it is 1 

Eger. I do not, upon my word I 
Can. That 's a little strange— You know. Sir, 
that you and Mr. Sidney did me the honour of 
break&sting with me tms morning in my Uttle 

Eger, We had that happiness, Madam. 
Con. Just atter you left me, u^n my opening 
ly book of accounts, which lay in the drawer oi 
le reading desk, to my great surprise — I there 
)und this case of jewels, containing a most ele- 
ant pair of ear-ringa, a neiAlace oF great value, 
nd two bank-bills, m this pocket-book ; the mys- 
tery of which. Sir, I presume you can explain. 

Con. They were of your conveymg, then! 

Eger, They were. Madam. 

Con. las3ureyou,theystart1edandalannediiie. 

Eger. I hope it was a kind alarm, such as 
blushing virtue feeb, when with her hand she 
gives her heart — and last consent. 

Con, It was not, indeed, Sir. 

Eger. Do not say bo, Conslantia— come, he 
kicd at once ; my peaCB and worldly bliss depend 

Con, What would you have me dol 
Eger. What love and virtue dictate. 
Con. Oh I Sir — eiperience but too severely 
proves that such unequal matches as ours never 
produced aught but contempt and anger in parentSj 
censuie from the world — and a long train of 
sonow and repentance in the wretched parties, 
which is but too often entailed upon their hapless 

Eger. But that, Constantia, cannot he oor con- 
dition i for my fortune is independent and ample, 
equal to luxury and splendid folly; I have the 
right to choose the partner of my heart. 

Om, But I have not, Sii^-I am a dependent 
on my lady— a poor, forsaken, helpleBS orphan. 
Your benevdent mother found me, look me to her 
bosom, and there supplied my parental loss with 
every tender care, indulgent dalliance, and with 
all the sweet persuasion that maternal fondness, 
religiotis precept, polished manners, and hourly 
example, could administer. She foalered me; 
[Weeps;] and shall I now turn viper, and with 
black ingratitude sting the tender heart that thus 
has cherished me •? Shall I seduce her house's 
heir, and kill her peace 1 No— though 1 loved to 
the mad eitrenie of female fondness ; though every 
worldly bUss that woman's vanity or man s ambi- 
tion could denre, followed (he indulgence of mjr 
love, and all the contempt and misery of this life 
the denial af that indulgence, I would disi^arge 
my duty to rov bene&clress, my earthly guardian, 
y more Cnan parent. 

Eger. My. dear Constantia! Your prudence 
)ur gratitude, aiid the cruel virtue of your selfr 
mial, do but increase my love, my admiration, 

tin. Sir, I must- beg yoo will give me leave to 
stum (hese bills and jewels. 

Eger. Pray do not mention thein.vsure my 
mdness and esteem may be indulged stf far, with- 
at suspicion and reproach — I bi^ you will atcepl 



ic,t,d=, Google 



THE MAN OP THE WORLD. 



Con. I have dono, Sir, — my station hare is to 
idtey — I know they are mfts of a rirtuoua mind, 
and mine shall convert Ihem t« the tenderest and 

at grateful 

Eger. Hat._ . 

ther ; dear gid, compose yourself- 



Eger. Dear ^i), adien! [Emi Constant: j. 

Enter Siku. 
Sam. Sir Pertinai and my lady 



Enter Ladt Macstoophant. 

Lady M. Dear child I am glad to see yoa^ 
why did you not cooie to town yesterday, to attend 
the levee— your father is incensed to the |itler 
niost at your not being there. 

Eger. Madam, it is with eitceme regret I tell 
vou, that I can no longer be a slave to his temper, 
Lis poUtica, and bia schlerae of marrying me to 
^lis woman. Therefore yon had better consent 
at once to my going out of (be kingdom, and to 
my taking Conslantia with me; for, without her, 
I never can be happy. 

Lady M. As you regard my peace, or your 
own character, I beg you will not be guilty of bo 
rash a step— you ptoaiiaed me, you would never 
marry her without my consent. I will open it to 
your lather : pray, dear Charles, be ruled — let me 

Bger. Madam, I cannot marry this lady. 

Lady M. Well, wdl; but do not determine, 
(^rst patiently hear what your father and Lord 
Lumbercoart have to propose, and let them try 
(o manage this business for you with your &t^r-~ 
pray do, Charles. 

EgtT. Madam, I submit 

Lady M. And while he is in this ill humour, 
I b^ you will not oppose him, iet him say What 
he will ; when his passion b a little eool, I will 
try to Iffing him to reason — but pray do not thwart 

Sir P. \WithoMt\ Hnud your gab, ye scoun- 
drel, and do as you are yd. Zounds! ye are ao 
fiill of yoQT gab. Take the chesnut gelding; re- 
turn to town, and inquire what ia become <u my 

Lady M. Oh ! here he comes, I'll get out of 
the way. [Erii. 

Sir P. [TPa/uii((J Here you, Tomlins. 

Tom. \W>thinii\ Sir. 

Sir P. TmOiOTOX Where is my eon Egerton ' 

Tom. \WWmvi\ In the library. Sir Perljnax. 

Sir P. \WUiifmC\ Vary weel, the inetant the 
lawyers come, let me ken it. 

JBnier Sir Pertinax. 

iSSr P. Vary weel ^Vaiy weel ah, je 

are a fine fellow— what have ye to say for you> 
sal — are not ye a fine spark. % are ye not a fine 

spark, I say 1 — ah I you're a so you wouM 

not come up till the leveel 

Eger. Sir, I beg yonr pardon— but— I— 4— I 

was not very well ; beaides — I did not think 

tbat-^ihat my presence there was necessary. 

Sir P. Sir, it was neceaaary— I lauld yo it 
was neceaaary — and, Sir 1 must now tell ye. 



that Ihe whole tenor of your conduct is most vA- 

Eger. I am sorry you think ao, Sir. I am anre 
I do not intend lo oSend you. 

Suf P. [In anger.} I care not what ye intend 
— Sin [ (ell ye, ye do offend — What is the mean- 
ing of this conduct ! — neglect the levee I — 'Sdeeth ! 
Sir, jout — what is your reason, I say, for thus 
neglecting the levee, and disobeying my com- 



pounds. Sir ! do you not see what othera 
dol gentle and simple; temporal and spiiritual; 
lords, members, judges, generals, and bishops 1 
aw crowding, bustlmg, puahing foremost inlill the 
middle of the circle, and there waiting, watching, 
and striving to catch a luock or a amile ira the 
p^at mon ; which they meet with an amicaMe 
riability of SKpecl — a modest cadence of body— 
and a conciliating co-operation of the whole 
mon ; — which expressea an otficious promptitude 
''~- '■■ "1, aiid uidicates — that they Inock 



cal fortune— this. Sir, is what ye ought to do — 
and this. Sir, is what I never once omitted for 
" 'e-and-tbarty years— let wha would bo 



Eger. [Aside^ Contemptible ! 

Sir P. What is it that ye mutter. Sir 'i 

E^er. Only a dighl reflection, Sir; and not 

Sir P. Sir, your absenlmg yoursal tra the 
levee at this juncture ia suspeecious— it ia luocked 
upon ae a kind of disaflection ; and aw your country- 
men are highly offended with yeer conduct : for. 
Sir, they do not iuock upon ye as a friend or a 

sel wisher either to Scotland or Scotsmen. 

Bger, Then, Sir, they wrong me, I aBsnre 
jou ; but pray. Sir, in what particular can I be 
charged either with coldness or oflence to my 
--nntryl 

Sir P. Why, Sir ever since your motheya 
unde, Su' Stanley Egerton, left ye this three 
thousand pounds a year, and that ye have, in 



Egerton, they think ye ai 



the opposeetion — and with (hose, ag^n I n 
tell yoUj wha do not wish weel till Scotland — ue- 
sides, Su', in a conversation the other day, ailer 
dinner, at yeer cousin Campbell Mackenzies, be- 
fore a whole table full of yeer aia relations, did ye 
not publicly wish — a total extinguishment of aw 
party, and of aw national distinctions whatever, 
— lative to the three kingdoma. And, ye block- 
iod — was that a prudeilt wish — befoie eae mony 
yeer own countrymen, and be damned to ye f 
r, was it a filial language to bidd before me i 
Eger. Sir, with your pardon — I cannot think 
unfilial, or improdent; I own I do wi^ — most 
ardentiy wish for a total extinction of all parties— 
particularly ttiat of English, Irish, and Scotch, 
might never more be brought into contest, or com- 
petition ; unless, Uke loving brothers, in generous 
emulation for one common cause. 

Sir P. How, Su"; do ye peraiatl— jwhat, 

auld yo lianish aw party — and aw distinction 

betwajit English, Irish, and your lun countrymeu t 



lc.l,dr,,l._.OOglC 



54 



THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 



[AC 



Eger. I would, Sir. 

8ii P. Then damme, Sir— je are nae true 
Scot. Ay, Sir, ye may luock as fuiOTy as ye 
wuH; but Bg^n I say — je are aae true Scot 

Eger, Ti^nr pardon, Sir, I think he U ihe Inie 
Scot, and tlte true citiwJi, who wishes equal jus- 
lice to tlie merit and demerit of every subject of 
Great Britain.— Amongst whom, Sir, I know but 
of two distinctions. 

Sir P. Weel, Sic, and what are those! what 
are those 'i tlmpatieiitly. 

Eger. The knave and — and the honest man. 

Sir P. Pshaw 1 redeeculous i 

Eger. And he who makes any other — let Mm 
lie ot tlie north or of the sooth, of the east or of 
the west, in place or out of place — is an enemy to 
the whole, and to Ihe virtues of humanity. 

Sir P. Ay, Sir I this is your brotbef'a im- 

C' snt doctrine — for the which I have banished 
tor ever fra my presence, my heart, and my 
fortune— Sir, I will have nae son of mine, because 
truly he has been educate in the English uni- 
vaisity, presume to speak against his native land — 
or against my principles. Sir, Scotsmen— Scots- 
nien, Sir— whereTer they meet throughout the 
globe— should unite and stick together, as it were, 
in a poleetical phalanx. However — nae mair of 
■' - '11 talk at large till ye about that 









wifh- 



standing your contempt of my advice, and your 
disobedience till my commands, I wool convince 
ye of my p^mal attention till your welfare, by 
my mana^ment with this voluptuary— this Irfird 
Lumbercourt, whose daughter ye are to many : — 
ye ken. Sir, that the fellow has been my patron 
above these five-and-tharty years. 

Eger. True, Sir. 

iSir P. Vary wecl— and now, Sir, you see by 
his prodigality he is become my dependant ; and 
accordingly I have made my bargain with hici — 
the ded a bawbee he has in the world but what 
cornea through these clutches ; for Ms whole estate, 
which has three impleeint boroughs upon it — 
mark— is now in my custody at nurse ; the which 
estate, on n^ paying off his debts, and allowing 
him a life- rent of seven thousand per annum, is to 
be niade over till me for my life ; and at my death 
is to descend ^11 ye and your issue — the peerage 
of Lurabereourt, you ken, will follow of conrse — 
HO, Sir, you see there are three impleecit boroughs, 
the whole patrimony of Lumbercourt, and a peer- 
age, at one slap — w^ It is a stroke — a hit — a hit — 
a capital hit, mon. Zounds ! Sir, a man may live a 
century, and not make sic another hit agiun! 

Eger. It is a very advantageous bargain, no 
doubt. Sir; but what will my lord's femily say to 

Sir P. Why, mon, he cares not if his femily 
were aw at the deel, sohis luxury be but gratilied — 
only let him have bis race-liorBej till feed his 
vanity ; his polite blacklegs, to advise him in his 
inaiches on the turf, cards, and tennis ; his harri- 
dan, till linak drams wi' lum, scrat his fece, and 
burn his periwig, when she is in her maudlin 
hysterica— the fellow has aw that he wants, and 
aw that he wishes, in this world — 
Enter Tomlins. 

Tom. Lady Rodolpha is come. Sir, 

Sir P. And my lord 1 

Tarn No, Sir, he is about a mile behind, the 
movant says. 



Sir P. Let me know the instant he arrives. 

Tom. I shaU, Sir, [Exit. 

Sir P. Step ye oot, Charles, and receive Laily 
Rodolpha, And I desire. Sir, ye'wool treat her 
widi aas much res))ect and gallantry ass possible^ 
foe my Irad has hinted IMt ye have been very 
remise ass a lover. Adzooks, Charles \ ye shoidd 
admeenisler a whole torrant o' flattery (ill heri 
fer a woman ne'er thinks a man loves bei\ till he 
has made an idiot of her understanding by flattery ; 
flattery is the prime bliss o' the sen, the neclar 
and ambroaa o' their charms; and ye can ne'er 
gi'e them o'er muckle of it : sae, there s a guid lad, 
gang and mind yeer flattery. [Exit Egerton,] 
Hah ! I must keep a tight hand upon this fallow, 
I see. I'm fiightened oot o' my wits lest his 
motiier'a femily should seduce him to their party, 
which would ruin my whole scheme, and break 
my heart. A fine time o' day indeed for a block- 
head to turn patriot — when the character is ex- 
ploded, marked, proscribed ; why, the common 
people, Ihe very vulgar, have fonnd out the jest, 
and laugh at a patriot now-a-days, ju^ as they do 
at a conjurer, a magician, or any other impostor in 
society. 

Elder ToMLiKs ami Lord LnMBERCotiBT. 

Tom. Lord Lumbercourt, [Exit. 

Lord L. Sir PexUnax, I kiss your hand. 

Sir P. Your lordship's most devoted- 1 rejoice 



dyour at 






thought you would have called upon n: 
Sir P. My dear lord, I beg ten millions of 

Scdons, for leaving town before yoit — bnt ye keu 
It your loidship at dinner yesterday settled that 
we should meet uus morning at the levee 1 
Lord L, That I acknowledge, Mac — I did 



promise i 



J be there, I oi 



Sir P. You did, indeed — andaccordbgly I was 
at the levee ; and waited there till every nwrtal 
was -gone, and seeing you did na come, I con- 
cluded that your lordfliip was gone before. 

Lard L. To confess the truth, my dear Mac, 
that old sinner. Lord Freakish, General Jolly, 
Sir Anthony Soaker, and two or three more of 
that set, kiid hold of me last night at the opera; 
and, as Ihe General says, — I believe, by the in- 
telligence of my head this morning— ha ! ha 1 ha! 
we arank deep ere we departed — ha! hat hal 

iSrP. Hat ha! ha! nay, if yon were with 
that party, my lord, I don't wonder al not seeing 
your lordship at the levee I 

Lord L. The truth is. Sir Pertinas, my fel- 
low let me sfeep too long for the levee. But I 
wish I had seen you before you left town— I 
wanted yon dreadfully. 

Sir P. I am heartily sorry that I was not in 
the way ; but on what account, my lord, did you 

Lord L. Ha ! ha I ha ! a cursed awkward af- 
fkn— and— ha ! ha ! yet I cannot help laughing at 
it neithc'; thoDgh it vexed me confoundedly. 

Sir P. Vexed you, my lord — I wish 1 had been 
wi' ye then; but for heaven's sake, my lord, what 
was it that could possibly vei your lordship'! 

Lord L. Why, that impudent, trasing, dun- 
ning rapcal. Mahogany, my upholsterer — von 
know the fellow 1 



ic.i.do;*^.OOglc 



a'HB MAN OP THE WORLD. 



Sir P. The rascal ! 

Lord Ii. Upon which, Sir, the fellom — ha 1 ha ! 
hit ! I cannot help laughing at it — bj way of ask- 
ing pardon, ha I ha 1 1^ t oiH the moJest<f to nait 
on me two or three days ago — to inform my ho- 
nour, ha ! ha ! as he was pleased to dignify me — 
that the execution waa now ready to he put in 
Kitce against my honour, ha ! ha ! ha 1 — but thai, 

'"' " espect to my honour, 

eal of my ' 
suffiir his lawyer 
Sirnted my honour~becaase he waa not willing 
aAJront my hanoor t ha 1 ha ! ha t a son ol 

Sa- P, I never heard of so impudent a dog. 

Lord L. Now, my dear Mac] hal ha I as tl. 
scoundrel's apology was so very aatietaclory, and 
hia information so very agreeable to my honour — 
I told him, that in honour I L-ould not clo less '^' — 
to order his honour Co be p^d immediately. 

KrP. Halhal hal— yal 
complaisant 
my lord. 

Lord L. Tial hat hat lothe full; bat you 
— yoa shall hear, Mac — so, Sir, mitb great 



1 ha I— yary weel— ye were ae 
le scoundrel till the fall, I think. 






rery handi^ h 






oaken cnckel, thai 
ler of my fassing- 



lascal, and another to take ihe cudgel, and return 
the Econndrel's ciiihty with a good drubbing, as 
long as the stick lasted I 

Sir P. Ha 1 ha I ha 1 admirable ! aa eode a 
■troke of humour as ever I heard of— and <Ed they 
drub him soundly, my lord 1 

Lord L. Oh ! most liberally, ha t ha 1 ha I most 
liberally ' ' ' ■ * ■ "■ ' 



t liberaJly, I 
1 thought 



the ailaii i> 



scoundrel— but this morning, Sir, ^ 
gtepping into my chaise— my servants all abouf 
me — afellaw, ciuled a tip-staff, stepped up, and 
begged the &vour of my footman, who thrashed 
the upholsterer, and the two that held him, lo go 
along with him upon a little business to my lord 
chief justice. 

Sir P. The devil! 

Lard L, And at ihe same instant I, in my turn, 
was accosted by two other very civil scoundrels, 
who, with a most insolent poUleness, begged my 



pardon, and intbrmed m 






nehais 



itlm 



y lord ! aot intill your ai 



Sir P. How, 

Lord L. No, Sir — for thiU tiiey^ by order of 
the sherill^ must seize it, at the suit of a gentje- 
man — one Mr. Maho^ny, an upholsterer. 

Sir P, An impudent villain ! 

Lord L. It is all tirue, 1 assure you ; so you see, 
my dear Mac, what a danuied country tms is to 
live in, where noblemen are obliged to pay their 
debts, just tike merchants, cobbleis, peasants, or 
mechanics. Is not that a scandal, dear Mac, to 

Sir P. My lord, i 
l48tional grievance. 

Lord L, Sir, tliere is not another nation in the 
world that has such a grievance lo complain of 
But what ccnecrns me moat, I am afraid, mydear 



It only a scandal, but i 



Mac, that the villain vtill send down to New- 
market, and seize my string of horses. 

SirP. Your string of horses 1 We must pre- 
vent that, at ail events:— that would he such a 
disgrace, I will despatch an express to town di- 
rectly, to put a stop till the scouncfrel's proceedings. 

Lord L. Pr'ythee do, my dear Sir Pertinai. 

Sir P. Oht it shall be done, my lord. 

Lord L. Thou art an honest fellow, Sir PerU- 
nax, upon honour. 

SirP. Oh, my lord : tisrayduty loobligeyour 

lordship to the very utmost stretch of my aheelity. 

Enter ToMUNS. 

Tom, Colonel Toper presents his compliments 
lo you. Sir, and having no family down with him 
in the country — he and captam Hardbntde, if not 
inconvenient, will do themselves the honour of 
taking a &mily dinner with you. 

■ SirP. They are two of our militia officers: 
does your lordBhip know them 1 

Lcn-d L. By sight only. 

Sir P. I am aftaid, my lord, they will interrupt 
our bu^ness. 

LordL. Hat hat not at all— not at all— Iial 
ha i ha I I should like to be acquainted with To- 
per, they say he is a fine jolly fellow I 

Sir P, Oh ! very Jolly, and very clever. He 
and the captain, my lord, are reckoned two of the 
hardest dnnkers in the country. 

Lord L. Ha t ha I ha ! so I have heard—let ns 
have them by all means, Mac ; they will enliven 
the scene— how &r are they from you ! 

Sir P. Just across the tneadows— -not half a 

Sir P. My compliments, I shall be proud of 
their company. [Earit Tomlins.] Gifyeplease, 
my lord, we wull gang and chat a tit wi the wo- 
men I have not seen lady Rodolpha since she 
returned fra the Bath ; I long tn have a little news 
from her aboot the company there. 

Lord L. Gh t she'll give you an account of 
them, I'll vtarrant yon. [A very loud laugh 
vrilJumi.] Here the hairbrain comes ! it must be 
her by her noise. 

lady R. [ Witkou.1.] Allons I gude folks— fbl- 



LadyR. [Running up ioSttcPESTiHiiX.y Sir 
Pertinas, — your most devoted — most obsequious, 
and moat obedient vassal. [Courtesies very lav). 

Sir P. Lad); Rodolpha— down till the ground 
my congratulations, duty, and atfection, sincerely 
attend your ladyshiji [Bovting ridiatloiiaty loic. 

Lady R. Oh! Sir Pertinax — your humeelity is 
most sublimely complaisant— at present unanswer- 
able but, Sir, I shall intensely study to return 

it [Coarteaies very (out.] fetVy fold. 

Sir P. Weel, Madam, ha I you luock gaily 
weel — and how — Iiow is your ladyship after your 
jaunt till the Bath % 

LadyR. Never better. Sir Pertinai as well 

as youth, health, riotous spirits, and a oarelosB, 
happy heart can make me. 

Sir P. I am mighty glad till hear it, my lady. 

Lord L. J^i ay, Rodolpha ia always in 

spirits; Sir Pettinai, Vive la bagatelle, is the 
philosophy of our ftmily, ha! Rodolpha, — Im' 



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THE MAiN OP THE WORLD. 



nour, lam determined it 

b? my consent— weel I tow— ha 1 ha ! ha ! ha ! Sa I 

PivB la bagatelle would be a most brilliant motto 

fin: the chariot of a belle of foahion what say 

jre till my fancy, Lady Macsycophant 1 

Lady M, It would have novelty at least to re- 
<;oiameiul it, Madam, 

Lady R. Which of aw eharins ia the most de- 
lightful that cau accompany wit, taste, love, or 
fnendslup — tor novelty, I take to be the true je ne 
scai juoi of all wordlv bliss. Cousin Egerton, 
should not you like to have a wife with Vive la 
bagatelle npon her wedding chariot 1 

Efi-er. Oh ! certainly, Madam, 

Lady S. Yes— I think it would be quite out of 
the common, and aiqguiatly aiiegant, 

Eger. Indteputabty, Madam — fiir, as a motto 
is a word to the wise, or rather a broad hint to the 
whole world, of a person's taste and prindples, 
Vtue la ioffofeife would ba most espresaive, 'at 
first eight, of your ladyship's characteiistic I 

Lady R. Oh, Majsler EHerton! yoa touch my 
very heart wi' your approbation — ha 1 ha 1 ha 1 that 
is the vary spirit of my intention, the instant I 
commence hiide. WeH, I am immensely proud 
that my &ncy has the approbation of so sound an 
understanding — so sublime a genius — and so po- 
lished, nay, so exqai«te a taste, as that of the all- 
accomplished Mr. Egerton. 

Sir P. But, Lady lUdolpha, I wish, till ask 
your ladyship some questions aboot the company 
at Bath; they say ye had aw tho world there. 

Lady R. O, yes ; — there was a vary great mob 
inJeed ; but vary httle company ; aw canaille — 
except our ain parly ; the place was quite crowded 
wi' your little pursepiood mechanics — an odJ kind 
of queer luocking animals, that ha'e started intill 
Ibrtmiesfi^ lottery tickets, rich prizes at sea,gani- 
bUng in Ciiange Alley, and sic like ca^ices of 
fortune, and awaw they aw crood till the Bath, to 
lam genteeUty, and the names, titles, intrigues, 
and hou mols of us people of fashion^ — ha I Iia 1 

Omnes. Ha I ha! ha! 

Xorti L, Ha ! ha ! ha ! I know them — I know 
the things you mean, my dear, extreinely woU. I 
have observed them a thousand times ; and wan- 
dered where the devil they al! came from! ha hal hal 

Lady M. Fray, Lady Rodolpha, what were 
your diversbns at Bath t 

Ludy.R. Glide &itH, my lady, the company 
were my diversion — and better nae human follies 
everafiSrded — halha! ha! acanamaxture — and 
sic oddits, ha! hat ha! a perfect gallimowti^ I ha I 
ha ! ha t Lady Euniguncia Mackenae and I used 
wgang aboot til! every part, of this human chaos, 
ha! ha! on purpose tit! reconnoitre the monsters, 
and pick up their frivtdities, ha ! ha ! ha t ha t 

Oianes. Ha ! ha 1 ha 1 

Sir P. Ha! hal ha! why, that must have been 
a high entertainment till your ladyship! 

iMdy R. Superlative, and iiiGshaiiatible, Sir 
PerUnas : ha I ha ! ha ! Madam, we had iu yane 
group a peer and a sharper — a duchess and a pin- 
maker's wife — a boardmg-BOhool miss and her 
grandmother— a faA parson, a lean general, and a 
yellow adnural — ha ! ha t all speaking tosether. 
and bawling, and fretting, and fuming, and ■ 



ling, and retorting in fierce ci 

fame, and the fortune, of sw the parties 
be the issue of the coiifiict. 



J if the 



Sir P. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Pray, Madam, what vrai 
the object of their furious contantion % 

Lady ,fi. Oh ! a vary important one, I assure 
you, Sir Pertinai; of no leas consequence, Ma- 
dam, than how an odd trick at whist was lost, or 
might have been saved t 

Omnes. Ha I ha t ha ! 

Lady R. In another party, Sir Pertinai, we 
had what was catted the cabinet council; which 
was composed of aduke anda haberdasher— a reJ 
hot patriot and a sneering courtier — a discarded 
^atesman and his scribbUng chaplain — wi' a busy 
bawling, muckle-heeded, prerogaHve lawyer- All 
of whom were every mhiute ready to gang toge- 
ther by the lugs, aboot the in and the oot meenis- 
try: ha 1 hal Iml 

Omnes. Hal ha! ha! 

Sir P. Ha I ha ! ha ! weel, that was a droll. 
Lotley cabinet, I vow. Vary whimsical, upon 



they do a. tnne for a country dance 1 

Lady R. Then, Sir Pertinai, in a retired part 
of the room — snug— in a by-corner — in close con- 
''- — ice, we had a Jew and a beeshop. 

.At P, a Jew and a beeshop! hal. ha! a devil- 
ish gude connexion that ; and pray, my lady, 
what were t hey aboot 1 

Lady R. Why, Sir, the beeshop was striving 

convert the_ Jew; while the Jew, by interrals, 
was slily picking up intelligence fra the beeshop, 
aboot the change in the meenistry, in hopes of 
making a stroke in the stocks. 

Omnes. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Sir P. Hai ha! ha! admirable, adniirable, I 
honour the smonse— hah ! — it was deevihsh clever 
of him, my lord, deevilish clever, the Jew distil- 
'"" "' -, beeshop-B brains. 

( L. Yes, yea, the fellow kept a sharp loolt 
think it vvas a 1^ trial of skill on both 
^es, Mr. Egerton. 

Eger. True, my lord; but the Jew seems to 
have been in the feirer way to succeed. 

Lord L. Oh ! all to nothing. Sir : ha ! ba ! ha ! 
Well, child, I like your Jew and your bishop 

uoh— it is monstrous clever, let us have the rest 

the history, pray, my dear. 

Lady R. Gude tlaitli,mylord, thesum totalis, 

at there we aw danced, and wrangled, and flat- 
tered, and slandered, and gambled, and clieatcj, 
and mingled, and jumbled 

Omnea. HatMthal 

LardL. Well, you are a dtoll girl, Eodolpha, 
and upon honour, ha! ha! ha!- — —you have given 
— — whimsical a aketch as ever was hit off 



the whole assembly at Bath, i._ 
glaring, pleasing, distinct eoloura ! 

Lady R. O, dear Maister Sidney, your ap- 
probation makes me as vain as a reigning toaEf 
'] her looking-glass. 

Enter Tomlins. 

Tbm. Colonel Toper and Captain Harfbottle 

Sir P. 0^ vary weel I dinner unmediat«ly. 
Tom. It IS ready. Sir, [Exii Tomlins. 

Sir P, Mv lord, wa attend your lordship, 
Lnrd L. Lady Mac, your fadyshi|3's hand, if 
ou please, [He Uads her out. 



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THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 



Sir P. Lady Rodolpha, here is an Arcadian 



— [Gi 



-f Gives her hand to Egerton.] there, Sir,- . 
I hearts — ye ken, cousin, they are nae brought 
into the account o' huiniin deafings now-a-daya. 

Eger. Oh '. Madam, they are mere temporary 
baubles, especially in courtship ; and 
be depended upon than the weatnei- 
lerj ticket. 

Lady R. Ha I ha I ha 1 twa axcetlent seeniilies, 
i vow, Mr, Egerton, mcetlet^ ! — for they illus- 
trate the yagaries and inconstancy of my dis- 
Xted heart, ass exactly aaa if ye had meant 

Sir P. Sal hat ha! what a vastfund of 
speerits and good humour she has, Maieter Sid' 

Bid. Agreat fund, indeed. Sir Pertinai. 

Sir P. Hah ! by Uiia time to-morrow, Maislei 

Sidney, I hope we shall ha'e eseri? thing ready 

for ye to f\A (hs last hel|nng hand till the earthly 

Isppineas o" voor friend and pupil ; and then. Sit, 

my cares wull be over for this fife ; for as till my 

other son 1 expect nae gude of him ; nor should 1 

grieve were 1 to see hira in his coffin. But this 

match— Oh! it wull make me the hapraest of 

aw human beings. \Exeurti. 

ACT III. 

SCENE I.—A Lnbrary. 

Enter Sir Pehtinax and Eqerton. 

Sit p. Sir, I wulj not hear a word abool it ; — 
I insist upon it ye are wrong — ye should ha'e 
paid your court tiU my lord, and not ha'e scrupled 
awallowing a bumper or tvra — or twanty till 



how T— how 1— just 
»iC| wi' wry mouths, 
and sour laces, wliach my )ord observed ; then, to 
mend the matter, the moment that he and the 
colonel got intiU a drunken dispute aboot releegion, 
ye slily bunged awa'. 

EgBT. 1 thought, Sir, it was time \a go, when 
my lord insisted upon half-pint bumpers. 

Sir P, Sir, tiMt was not levelled at you— but 
at the colonel, the captain, aitd the commissioner, 
in order till try their ootloms ; tiut the; aw ^p'eed 
Utat ye and I ahould drink lyA o' smaw glasses. 

Eger. But, Sir, 1 beg pardon — I did not choose 
lo drmk any more. 

Sir P. But^ Sir, I tell you there was necesaty 
fervour drinking mure at this particulajr juncture, 

Eger. Anecesaityl in what respect. Sir? 

Sir P. Why, SL-, I have a certain pomt to 
carcyj independent of the lawyers, with my lord, 
in this agreement of your marriage, aboot whach, 
I am afraid we shall ha'e a warm crooked squab- 
ble — and therefore I wanted your as^tance in it, 

Ege-T. Bat bow. Sir, could my drinking con- 
tribute to assist you iu your squabble 1 

Sir P. Tas, Sir, it wouk) ha'e contributed— it 
might have prevented the squabble, 

Eger. How so Sir J 

Sir P. Why, Sir, my lord is proud of ye fbr a 
son-in-law, and of your little French songs — your 
Btoiies, and your bon mots, when ^e are in the 
humour — anil gin ye had but staid, and been a 
leetle ioUy, anddrank half a score bumpers wi' 
him. till hegol a iJMle tipsy, I am sore when we 

Vol. I...,H, 



what will be toe confirquence, 

Eger. Bat when a man is intoxicated, woald 
(hat have been a seasonable time to settle Imsiness, 



Mlh ask , , 

and his heart is aw jollity, fun, and gude fellow- 
ship yon may then mould his consent to any 

thing: and can there be a happier moment than 
that for a bargin, or to settie a dispute wi' a 
friend % What is it you shrug your shoulders at 
Sir? 

Eger. At my ovm ignorance. Sir : for T un- 
derstand neither the philosophy nor the moraUty 
of your doctrine. 

Sir P. I ken ye do not, Sir : — and what is 
warse, ye never wull understand it, ass ye pro- 
ceed. In yane word, Charles — I ha'e ofim Caold 
ye, and noow agMn I tell ye yance for aw, that 
every man should be a man o' the warld, and 
should understand the doctrine of pleeabeelity ; 
for. Sir, the manoeuvres of pleeabeelity are ass 
necessary to rise in the warld, ass vrranglins and 
logical subtlety are to rise at the bar. Why ye 
see, Sir, I ha'e acquired a noble fortune, a prince- 
ly fortune, and hoow do ye think 1 ha'e raised it 1 

Eger. Doubtless, Sir, by your abilities, 

iSr P. Dootless, Sa, je are a blockhead— nae, 
Sir, I'll Cell ye hoow 1 raised it, Su- ; I raised it W 
boowing ; by boowing. Sir ; I never in my life 
could stond straight i' th' presence of a great mon ; 
but always boowed, and boowed, and boowed, as 



re by in 



■why, 



Eger. How do yon mean, by instinct, Sir 1 

Sir P. Hoow do I mean, b; ' - ■ ' 

Sir, 1 mean by — by — by instinct .. , ___, 

whach is the universal instinct of mankind. Sir : 
it is wonderful to think, what a cordial, what an 
amicable, nay, what an infellible influence, boow- 
ing has upon the pride and vanity of human na- 
ture; Charles, answer me ^ncerely, ha'e ye a 
mind till be convinced of the force of my doctrine, 
by example and demonstration 1 

Eger. Certainly. Sir. 

Sir P. Then, Sir, as the greatest &vour I can 
confer upon ye, I wull give ye a short sketch of 
the stages ofmy boowing ; ass an excitement and 
~ landmark for ye till hoow by, and as an iuAilli' 
le nostrum for a mon o' the warld till thrive i' 
the warid. 

Eger. Sir, I shall be proud lo profit by your 

Sir P. Vary weel. [Theij both sit down.] 

And noow. Sir, ye must recall tilt your tiioughts, 

that your granJf^her was a mon, whose pnuri- 

ous income of half pay was the sum total of his 

fortune; and, Sir, aw my proveesion fra him was 

a modicum of Lalin,anei:partnessofareethmetic, 

and a short system of worldly counsel ; the chief 

ingredients of which were, a persevering industry, 

a re^d economy, a smooth tongue, a pUabcelety 

of temper, and a constant attention till make 

" ery mon weel pleased wi' himself. 

Eger. Very prudent advice, Sur. 

Sir P. . Therefore, Sir, I lay it before ye—now, 

r, wi' these materials, I set oot, a rough raw- 

ned stiipKng, fra the north, till tiy my foi^uno 

r them here i' the south ; and my flist step 



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THE MAN OP THE WORLD. 



man the world w»s a beggarly clerkship in Saw- 
ney Goftloii'B counting-houee, here i' tlio city of 
London, whach, you'll say, afforJed but a barren 
»o't of a proBpfct 
EgBT. It was not a very fertile 






Sh- p. My ni 
mother, whom i 
icliool, by the ij 

<aiy nest si 



Sir P. The revearse, the ravearse. Well, Sir, 
seeing mysel in this unprofitable situation, I re- 
tiected deeply, I cast aboot my thoughts, and con- 
duded that a matrimonial adventure, prudently 
conducted, would be the readiest gait I could asi^ 
for the bettering of my cundsetion, and according- 
ly set aboot it noow, Sir, in this puraait— 

heaaty — beauty, shI beauty often struck mine 
eyne, and played aboot my heart, and fluttered, 
and beet, and knocked, and knocked, but the deel 
an entrance I ever let it get — ftr I observed that 
beauty is generally a prood, vain, saucy, expen- 
sive sort oTa commodity, 

Eger. Very justly observed. Sir. 

"ir P. And therefore. Sir, I lefi it to prodigals 






,and 



ancient, wed-jointureJ, superannuated dowager: 
——a consumptive, tocihiess, phthisicky, weeJthy 
widow— or a ahreeveled, cadaveroua, neclact^ 
piece of deformity, i' th' shape of an exaxd, or an 
emperBi-and— or in short, any thing, any thing, 
that had the siller, the siller; for that was the 

north star of my aflection do ye take me. Sir 1 

Was nae that right 1 

Eger. O doubUess, doubtless. Sic. 

Sir P. Noow, Sir, where do ye think I gaed 
to Inock for this woman wi' ih' taller— nae till 
courl^-nae till play-houaes, or asBemblies— ha. 
Sir, ( gaed till tlie kirk, tilt the Anabaptists, In- 
dependent, Bradleonian, Muggletonian meetings ; 
tiif the morning and evening service of churches 
and cbapala ofease ; and till the midnielit, melt- 
ing, conceeliating love-feasts of the Method ista 

Bnd there at last. Sir, 1 fell upon an oM, rich, Bout, 
shghted, antiquated, musty maiden; thai luocked 
-^a : ha ! ha ! she luocked just like a skeleton in 
a surgeon's glaHB-casa — noow. Sir. this meeeerable 
ubject was releagiously angry wi' hersal, and aw 
the warld; hadnaecomibrt but in a supematural, 
releegioas. enthusiastic delearium ; ha! ha! ha! 
Sir, she was mad mad ass a bedlamite. 

Eger. Not improbidjle. Sir; there are numbers 
of poor creatures in the same enthiujastie oon- 

jSb- p. Oh I nnmbecB, nambets ; now, Sir, this 
poor, cracked, crazy creature, vised to sing, and 
sigh, and groan, and weep, and wail, and gnash 
her teeth constantly, morning and evening, at the 
labernaole. And ass soon ess I found she had 
the siller, aha I gude tcaith, I plumped me doon 
npo' my knees dose by her, cheek-hy-jole, and 
sung, and sighed, and groaned as vehemently ass 
she could do for the life of her ; ay, and turned up 
i-hd 1^pl^;faa nF mv tftmn till tKr stTings almost 
lay ; hand- 
h^iie; got 

m^^hCTin afortnight ; buried her in a month; 
touched tiie siller ; and wi' a deep Buit of mourn- 
ing, a sorrowful veesage, and a joyfiil heart, I 
began the warld agun: and this. Sir, vraa the 
first effectual boow 1 ever made till the vanity of 
human nature; noow, Sir, do ye understand this 
doctrine 1 

Eger. Perfectly well Sir, 



most releegioosly ii 



Sir, was tiU your ain 
wi' fra the boarding- 
whoee lamily I got a 



th' treasury; and. Sir, roy 

itill parliament, the whaeh 1 

ardent and ass determined an 



ambeetion, ass ever ageetated the heart o' Caisar 
' 'msel. Sir, I boowed, and watched, and attend- 
I, and dangled upo' the then great mon, till I 
got intill the vary bowels of his confidence — hah 1 
got my snack of the clothing, the foraging, the 
contracts, the lottery tickets, and aw the poleelical 
bonuses; ^1 at length, Sir, I became a much 
wealthier men than one lialf of the golden calves 

had been so long a bodwing to. [He rises, 
Egeeton ™es(oo.] And viias nae that boow- 

g to some purpcee, Sir, hal 

Eger. It was, indeed. Sir. 

Sir P. Butareyaconvincedofthegudeelfects, 
and of the uteelity of boowingi 

Eger. Thoroughly, Sir, thoroughly. 

So- P. Sir, it ia inftUible — but, Charles, ah 1 
while I vras thus boowing and raismg this prince- 
ly fortune, ah ! - 1 met many heart sores, and dis- 
aupmntments, fra the want of leeterature, ado- 
quence, and other popular abeeiities ; Sir. gin 1 
could bnt ha'e spoken i' th' house, I should ha'e 
done the deed in half the time ; but the instant I 
opened my mouth there, they aw fell a laughinff 
at me: aw which defeecienaeB, Sir, 1 cletecmmed 
at any expense till have supphed by the polished 
education of a son, who I hoped woold yane day 
raise the house of Macsycophant tdl the highest 
pinnacle of ministeerial ambeetion ; this. Sir. is 
my plan : I ha'e done my part of it ; Nature has 
done her's ; ye are ailoquant, ye are popular ; aw 
parties like ye ; and noow, Sir, it only remains for 
-- 1 (o be directed— completion follows. 

Eger. Your Uberality, Sir, in my education, 

1(1 the judicious choice you made of the worthy 
gentleman, to whose virtues and abilities you en- 
framed me, are obligations 1 ever shall remember 
with the deepest filial gratitude. 

Sir P. Vary weel. Sir— vary weel; bo^ 
Charies, ha'e ye had any conversation yet wi 
Lady Rodoipha, aboot the day of yeer n-—-™ 
yeer leeveries, yeer equipage, c- — "™ " 



r estjiblish- 

Eger. Not yet. Sir, 

Sir P. Pah ! why there again now, there again 
ye are wrong ; vary wrong, 

Eger. Sir. we have not had an opportanily. ^ 

Sir J". Why, Charles, ye are vary tardy in 
this business. 

LordL. longing i^tlwut.] 

What have v>e aiith day to do ? (f-c. 

Sir P. Oh ! here comes my lord I 

LordL. [Singing without.^ 

Sons qf care, 'twas made for you. 
Enter Loan LombehCOUBT, drinking a dish of 

coffee ; Tomlinb vailing, vrUh a salver in hJs 

Sons qf care, 'iipos made for you. 
Very good coffee indeed. Ml. Tomlins. 

aiw of care, 'iioae made for you. 
Here. Mr. Tomlins. [ffines him Ike eup. 

lira. Willyourlordshippleasetohaveanother 

^'^Lord h. No mere, Mr. Tomlins. \Bni ToM- 



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THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 



catof the Scotch pints 1 we hay. 



tiNs.] WeJl, mj 
Dad warm wurk. 

Sir P. Yes, yoo pushed the bottle aboot, my 
lord, wi' the joy and vcegour of a bacchanal. 

Ijord L. That I did, my dear Mac — no loss 
of time ivith me— I have but thi'ee motions, old 

I«y^ charge 1— — .-toast \ fire ! and off we 

go- hatha! hai that's my exercise, 

SiT. P. And fine warm exBroise it is, my lord, 
eepedaJly with the half-pint glass. 

Lord L. It does execution point blank — ay, ay, 
none of your pimping acorn glasses for me, but 
Jour manly, old English, half-pint bumpers, my 

dear. Zounda, Su'. thay try a fellow's e ' 

at once. But where 's Egerton 1 

StT P. Just at hand, my lord; there he 
laockii^ at your lordship's picture. 

Lordh. Mf dear Eeerlon. 

Eger. Your lordship^ most obedient. 

l^d L. I beffvourparclon, I didnotsM 
I am sorry you ^ft as so soon afler dit 
you stdd, yoa would have been highly 
ed ; I have made such exatnpies of the — 
(9 the captain, and the colonel. 

Eger. So I understand, my lord. 

Lard L. But, Egerton, I have slipper] from th< 
company, for a few moments, on purpose ' ' 



er; had 






\ Sir, and 



a little cW with 

femaes there is a tind of a demur 

about your marriage with her. 

Sir P. A deiQor, hoow so, my lord ? 

Lord I,, Why, as I was drinking my coffee 
with the women, just now, 1 desired they would 
fix the wedding night, and the etiquette of the 
ceremotiy ; upon wmch the eirl burst into a loud 
laugh, tellingma she supposed! was joking, for that 
Mr. Egerton had never yet given her a single 
glance, or hint upon the subject. 

Sir P. My lord, I have been 
instant talking to him aboot bis 

Eitter ToMCENB. 

TVm. Counaellor Plan^ble is 
Sergeant EUtherside. 

jffir P, Why, then, we can selUe this business 
llus vary evening, my lord. 

Lord L. As welt as in seven yeaiH — and to 
make the way as short as possible, pray, Mr. 
TomtiuE, present your master s compliments and 
Inine to lady Rodolpha, and let her ladyship know 
we wish to speak to her directly. [Es* Tom- 
LiNs.] He shall attack her this instant. Sir Peili- 

S!t p. Ha ! ha I ha ! ay I that 's excellent, this 
19 doing business efiectuatly, my lord. 

LordL. Oht I will pit them in a moment. Sir 
Pertinax— that will bring them into the heat of 
the action at once; and ^ve a deaf of awkward- 
ness on both sides Oh, here your Dulcinea 

comes, Sirl 

Enter Lsdy Robolphx. 

Ladj/ R. Weel, Sir Pertinax, I attend your 
fonimands, and yours, my paternal lord. 

Lord L. Why then, my fifial (ady, we are to 
inform you, that the commission for your lady- 
ship, and tliis enamoured cavalier, commanding 
you jointiy and inseparably to servo your country, 
m the honourable and forlorn hope of matrimony, 
ia to be signed this very evening. 

Lad;/ R. This evening, my lord ! 



Petting..., 

wedding suits, carriages, and all their .. 

equipage for the nuptial camp. 

Sir P. Ha I ha 1 ha ! axcellent I weel, I voow, 
my lord, ye are a great ofiicer : this is as gudo a 
manteuvre to bring on a rapid engagement, as the 
ablest general of them aw could ha'e started. 

Lord L. Ay, ay; leave them together, they'll 
soon come to a right understanding, I warrant 
you, or the needle and the loadstone Eive ket Iheii 
sympathy. 

[Exeunt Lord Lombercoukt and Siii 
Pertinax. 
Eger. What a dilemma am I in 1 [Aside. 
Lady R. Why, this is downright tyranny- 
it lias quite damped my spuits, and my betrothed, 
yonder, seems planet-stnick too, I think. 
Eger. A whimsical situation mine) {Aside. 
Lady R. Ha 1 ha I ha 1 methinks we iuock like 
I. couple of cawtious geenerals, that are obliged 
till take the field, but neither of us seems wil^g 
*"l come to action. [Aside. 

Eger. 1 protest, I know not how to address 
■!■• [Aside. 

Lady R, He wuli nae advance, I see — what 
n I to do i' this affiiic 1 gude traith, I wnll even 
• as 1 suppose many Brave heroes ha'e done 
before me ; clap a gude fece upo' tbe matter, and 
so conceal an aching heart under a swaggerinc 
countenance, [Aiide.\ Sir, Sir, ass we ^e, by 
(he commands of our gude fiilhers— a business rf 
some little consequence till transact, ! hope ye 
wuH excuse my taking the leeberty of roajmmend- 
ing a chair till ye. [Cawrtesies very l<m. 

Eger. fGreo% embarTassed.\ Madam, I beg 
your pardon. 

[Hands her a chair, then one far himself. 
Lady R. Ahal he's resolved not to come too 
ar till me, I think. [Aside. 

£^er. A pleasant interview— hem! hem! 

Lady R. Hem I hem I [Mimics ftim,] He wuli 
not open the congress. 1 see ; then I wuli. [.dsiife.] 
Come, Sir, whan wuli ye begin 1 [Very load. 

Egor. [Sfaii-te.] Begin ! what. Madam, 

Lady R. To make love till me. 

Eger. LovB, Madam % 

Lady R. Ay, love, Sirl why, you ha'e ne/er 



loof P^w, Sir, thoff oor fttharsare so tyrannica'i 
ass to dispose of us merely lor their ain interealB, 
without a Bingle thought of oor hearts or affec- 
^ — I yet. Sir, I hope ye ha'e niair humanity than 
nk of wedding me, without first admeenister- 
ing some of the prelaeoiinaries usual on those oc- 



I shall therefore no longer di^uise m, 
■■""' ''-=-'-- '-■ -)o know my heart — 

1 ! ye are right, ye are right, ci 



— ■■ upcu juur u«ift ifunKiy lit 

ould; but sit ye doown, at j 
I shall return your frankness, and your pa^n' 
cousin, wi' a melting tenderness, equal to tfie 
amorous enthusiasm of an ancient heroine. 

Eger. Madam, if you will hear me . 

Lady R, But remember ye must begin yeei 



h,l^,OOglc 



«!0 



THE MAN OF THE WORLB. 



aildiess wi' fervency, and a most ra^tnnju 
hemence ; for ye are to consee^}^, couaiii, tits 
match in nae till arise fra tlie union of heaxts 
a long decaium of ceremonious courtship, t 
iastaiitly till atart at yance out of necessi . 
mere accident, ha I ha! ha! just like a match 
in an ancient romance, nhere j>e ken, cousin, the 
fcnighl and Ibe damsel are motiiaily smitten, and 
dying for each other at lirst signt; or l^ an 
amorous sympathy, before they exchange a single 

Eger, Dear Madam, you entirely mistake. 

Lady R. So noow, cousin, wf the true ro- 
mantic enttiusiasm, ye are till suppose me the 
lady o' the enchanted castle, and ye— ha ! ha I ha I 
ye are lo be the knight o the sorrowful counte- 
nance — ha E ba 1 ha I and, upon honour, ye luock 
the character admirably, ha ! ha I 

Bger. Trifling creature ! 

Lady R. Hay, nay, nay, cousin, gin ye do na 
begin at yance, the lady o' the enchanted castle 
will vanMi in a twinkling. 

Eger. [ffises.] Lady Rodolpha, I know your 
talent ftr raillery well ; but at present, in my case, 
^ere is a kind of cruelty in it. 

Lady B. KaiUery! u|jon my honour, cousin, 
ye mistake me quite and clean. I am serious ; 
vary serious ; and I have cause till be serious ; ay, 
and vary sad intill the bargain; [flisiw.] nay, I 
will submit my case even tUl yoursel — can ony 
poor las^e be in a mair lamentable condeetion 
\WHnmg.\ than to be sent four hundred miles, 
by the oommanda of a positive grandmother, till 
marry a man who I find has nae mair afiection 
for tne than if 1 had bsen hia viife these seven 

Eger. Madam, I am extremely sorry. 

Lady B. But it is rary weel, cousin — vary 
weel — 1 see your aversiMi plain enough — and, 
Sir, 1 must tell ye ftirly, ye are the ainly mon 
that ever slighted my person, or that drew tears 
fra these eyne ; but tis vary weel. [CHes] I wuU 
return till Scotland to-morrow morning, and 
let my grandmother know how I have been af- 
fronted by your slights, your contempts, and your 



Eg^. If you are serious. Madam, your dis- 
treEB gives me a deep concern : but aOection is not 
in our power ; and when you know that my heart 
is irrecoverably given to another woman, I think 
your underrianduw and good natnre will not only 

Eardon my past coldness and neglect of you, but 
irgive me when I tell you, I never can have tliat 
honour which is inteiided me, by a connexion 
with your ladyship. 
Lady R, [StiH-iing- up.] How, Sirl axe ye se- 

Eger. Madam, I am Wo deeply interested, both 
as a man of honour and a lover, to act otherwise 
with you on so tender a subject. 

Ijody R. And so, ye persast in slighting me, 

Eger. I beg your pardon, but I must be ex- 
phcit — and at once declare, that I never can ^ve 
my hand where I cannot give my heart. 

Lady R. Why, then, Sr, I must tell you, thai 
year declaration is sin an aiTcont ass nae woman 
o' speeiit ought to bear, and here I make a. so- 
lemn vow never till pardon it— but on yane con- 
deccioi 



Eger. Then, Madam, you may command 

Lady R. Why, then. Sir, the condeetion ie 
this ; ye must here gi'e nie your iionour, tliat nae 
importunity, command, or menace, o your ta- 
Iber — in fine, that nae consideration whatever 
shall induce you lo take me, Rodolpha Lumber- 
court, till be your wedded wife. 

Eg&r. Madam I I most solemnly promise, I 

Lady R. And 1, Sir, in my turn, most sclcmn- 
ly and sincerely thank ye ftir your resolution, 
fCWriesies.l and your agreeable aversion, ha! ha I 
da ! for ye tia'e made me aa happy as a poor 
wretch reprieved in the vary instant of intended 

■. Pray, Madam, how am I to understand 
.11 iH.! 

Lady R. Sir, your frankness and sincerity 
demand the same behaviour on my side. There, 
fore, without further disguise or ambiguity, know, 
Sir, that I myself am ass deeply smitten wi' a 
certain swain, ass I understand ye aie wi' yeer 
Constantia, 
Eger. Indeed, Madam \ 
Lady B. Oh, Sir, aw my extravagance, levity, 
and redeeeulous behaviour in your presence, 
r since your fitther prevailed on 
I; till this match, has been a pre- 
meditated scheme, to provoke your gravity and 
gude sense intill a cordial disgust, and a positive 
refnsal. 

Eger. Madam, you have contrived and eie- 
cnteu your scheme most hapjaly ; but, with your 
leave. Madam, if I may presume so fer— pray who 
is your lover t 

Lady R. In that too I shall surprise you, Sir — 
he is[C™r(ejies.] your ain brither. So ye see, 
iin Charles, tliofi' I could nae mingle anections 
ye, I ha'e nae gaed oot o' the family. 
iger. Madam, give me leave to congratnlatB 
myself upon your affictjon — you couldn't have 
' '■ - worthier object ; and whatever is to 
in this lottery of our parents, be as- 
sured that my fortune shall be devoted to your 
ippiness and his. 

Lady R. Generous indeed, cousin, but not a 

hit nobler, I assure you, than your brother Sandy 

believes of you ; and pray, credit me. Sir, that wo 

shall both remember it, while the heart feels, or 

memory retains a sense of gratitude: but now, 

Sir, let me ask one question — pray, how is your 

mother atfecled in this businessl 

Eger. She knows of my passion, and will, I 

m sure, be a friend to the common cause. 

Lady R. Ah ! that is lucky, vary lucky — out 

rsl step must be to take her advice upon our 

onduct.soastill keep our Others in the dark, till 

'e can hit off stnne measure that wull wind tliem 

aI>oat till our ain purpose, and till the common 

:rest of our ain passions. 

ilger. Yon ate very right, Madam, for should 
my fitlier suspect my bromer's aflectiou for your 
ladyship, or nunc for Constantia, there is no 
guessiug what would be the consequence; his 



Eger. If that cr 



ion he il 



ny pow£ 



io=isd;, Google 



THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 



61 



ACT IV. 

SCENE r.—A Library. 

Elder SiH Pbhtinai and Coonseli.oh Plso- 

Sir P. No, no ; come away, Counsellor Plau- 
uble — come awaj, I say ; let them chew upon il 
—let them chew npon it. — Why, Counaellor, did 
ye ever hear ira impertinent, eo meddling, and eo 
obstinate a blockhead, oas that Sergeant Either- 
side 1 confound the MIow, lie has put me oot of 
aw temper I 

Plau. He is very positive, indeed, Sir Per- 
tinax, and no doubt was intemperate and rude; 
but, Sir Per^nax, I would not break up the match 
notwithstanding : for, certnialy, even without the 
Imroughs, it is an advantageous bargEun, both to 



Sir P. But, Piaoable, do you think 1 wull 
up the nomination till three borouglis t why, 
-'^ rather give him twanty, nav, tharty thou- 



I would 



sand pounds in any other part o th' ba^s 
espedally at this juncture, when votes are Hkely 
to become so valoable — why, mon, if a certain 
a^r comes on, they'll rise above five hundred 

Plan. Ho doubt Ihej will. Sir Poranai— but 
what shall we da in this case 1 for Mr. Sergeant 
inrasts that you po«tiveIy agreed Ui my lord's 
having the nomination to Uie three boroughs 
during hie own life. 

Sir P. Why, yes, in the first sketch of the 
agreemeM 1 believe I did consent ; but at that 
time, mon, my lord's aflairs did not appear to be 
half so desparate r99 I noow lind they turn oot. 
Sir, he must acquiesce in whatever I demand, for 
I ha'e gotten hun intill sic an hobble, that he 
canna exist wilJiout me. 

Plau. Ho doubt, Sir Pertinax, you have him 
rfisolulely in youl power. 

Sir P. Vary weel ; and ought not a mon till 
make his vantage of it ^ 

Plau. No doubt yoo ought, no manner of 
doubt i but. Sir Pertinax, there ia a secret spring 



i my lord is liod down, by 
other, to bring Sergeant Eitherside in, the very 
first vacancy, for one of those lioroughs— now 
that, I believe, is the sole motive why the ser- 
geant is so very strenuous that my lord should 
leep^p boroughs in his own power, fearing that 
you nught reject him for some man of your 

Sir P. Obi n^dear Plausible, ye are clever 
— yes, vaiy dev^— ye ha'e hit upo' the vary 
■tnng that lias made aw this discord — O ! I see 
a^-I see it noow; but hand, hand— bide a wee 
bit^a wee bit, Ujon — I ha'e a thought come 
intill my head— yes — I think noow, Plansible, 
wi' a litll^ twist in oor negociation, that the vary 
(Cring, properly tuned, may be still made to pro- 
duce tile vary harmony we wish for — ja — yas, I 
ha'e il — this sergeant I soe understands business, 
aaid if 1 am not mistaken knows hoow tin take a 
hint. 

PlaK. Oh I nobody better. Sir Pertinai, nobodv 

Sir P. Why then. Plausible, tlie short road is 



always the best wi' sic a man; yc must even come 
up till his mark at yance, and let him know &a 
me, that I will secure him a scat for yanc of those 
vary boroughs. 

Plan. Oh I that will do, Su^ Pertinax ; that 
will do, rH answer for It. 

Sir P. And further, I beg ye wall let him 
know, that I tliink myself obliged till conseeiler 
him in this affaii ass acting for me ass weel ass 
for my lord^ ass a common friend till baith, and 
tor the service he has already done us, mak' my 
special comphments till hun ; and pray let this 
soft, slerUng, bit of paper ba my faithful advocate 
till convince him what my gratitude further in- 
tends for lus great [Qiveskimabank^bUl.] equity, 
in adjusting this agreement betwixt my lord s 
family and mine. 

Plau. Ha I ha 1 ha I Sir Pertinax, npon my 
word tlds is noble — ay, ay ! this is an eloquent 
bit of paper, indeed. 

Sir P. Maislei Plauable, in 9VI human deal- 
afiectuat method is that of ganging 



their affections by serving them — 
Oh I here they baith come 1 
Enter Lord Lumbqrcourt ami Sebcrint 

ElTHKBSlDE. 

Lord L, My dear Sir Pertinax, what could 
provoke you io break olT this business so abrupt- 
ly 1 — You are really wrong in the point ; and if 
you wilt give yourself time to recollect, you will 
find that my having the nondnation to tiie 
borouahs for my hfe, was a preliminary article— 
and 1 appeal to Mr. Sergeant Eitherside here, 
whether I did not always understand it so. 

Serg. E. I BBsnre you. Sir Pertinax, that in 
all Iiis lordship's conversation with ma upon th ' 

buaness, and in his positive ' ''"" '" " 

always understood the nr-^' 

lord, duTiaxte ■eita, durante vua — laeariy, cieariy, 

beyond the shadow of a doulit. 

Sir P. Why then, my lord, till shorten the 
dispute, aw I can say, in answer till your lord- 
ship, is, tliat tiiere ' has been a total mistake be- 
twaxt us in that point — and therefore tiie trea^ 
must end here-— 1 give it up — 1 wash my hands 
of it for ever — for ever. 

Plau. "^ell hut, gentlemen, a lilUe patience, 
pray. Sure this mistake, some how or other, 
may be rectified — Mr. Sergeant, pray let you and 
I step into the next room by ourselves, and re- 
consider the clause relative to the boroughs, and 
try if we camiot bit upon some medium that will 
be agreeable to both parties. 



the clause fully, am entirely master of the 
guesqim, and my lord cannot give up the point ; 
it is unkind, unreasonable, to expect it, and 1 shall 
never, oever — on no account whatsoever shali I 
ever advise him to give it up. 

Plaii. Nay, Mr. Sergeant, I beg you will not 
misapprehend me — do not think I want his lord- 
ship to give up any point vrithout an equivalent. 
Sir Pertinax, will you pennit Mr. Se^eant and 
me to retire for a few moments, to reconsider this 
point about the three boronghs 1 

Sir P. Wi' aw my Iieart and saul, Maisler 
Plausible, ainy thing tit! accommodate liis lord- 
ship — fliny thing — amy thing, 

Plau, What say you, my lord 1 



ic,t,d=, Google 



THE MAN OP THJi WORLD. 



[AC 



Lord L,. Nay, I aal 
Mr. Sergeant. 

Plau,. Come, Mr. E 

' ' ' ■ Aj, ay, go 

PlaoBiMe lii. . .,... . ._. 

. „ ;. Nay, I mU waU on Mr. PknsiMe, 
my loro, with all my heart ; but I am anre I can- 
not suggest the shadow of a reason for altering 
my presant opinion -: — impoBEible, impossibie, he 
cannot give them np ; it is an opinion &oin n'hich 
I never can depart. 

Plan. Well, well, do not be positive, Mr. 
Sergeant; io not be positive. I am sure, reaaon, 
end your client's conveniency, will always make 
you alter your opinion. 

Sferg-. E. Ay, ay, reason, and my client's con- 
veniency, Mr. Plausible, will always control my 
opinion, depend upon it. Ay, ay 1 there you are 
nght ; Sir, I attend you. [£ieun( ZiOJBjiers, 

Sir P. I am sorry, my Icird, extremely sorry, 
indeed, that this mistake has happened, 

Ifird L. Upon honour, and so am I, Sir Perti- 

fSKt p. But come noow, after aw, your lord- 
ship must allow ye ha'e been i' the wrong. Came, 
my dear lord^ ye must allow that noow. 

Lord L, How so, my dear Sir Pertinas ? 

Sir P. Not aboot the boronghE, my lord, for 
those I do not mind of a bawbe^— bot aboot yeer 
dishTist of my fiiendship. Why, do ye think 
noow, I appeal dll your ain breast, my lord ; do 
ye think, I say, that I should evei ha'e refused or 
slighted your lordship's nomination till these 
bttioughs'! 

Lard L. Why really I don't think you would, 
Sir Pertinas ; but one must be directed by one's 
lawyer, you know. 

Sir P. Ha 1 my lord, lawyers are a dangerous 
Bpedfis of animals till ha'e any dependence upon 
—they are always starting punctilios and deeii- 
culties among friends. Why, my dear brd, it is 
their interest that aw mankind should be at vari- 



ed till lay it on ass thick asB they 

Iiffrd L. Come, come, my dear Sir Pertinai, 
^ou must not be angry with the sergeant for his 
insisting so warmly on this point — for those 
boroughs, you know, are my sheet anchor. 
fSh- P. I know it, my lord ; and as an ' 



Sergeant Eitherside wishes ya weel, and ye hii 
I think noow ho would be as gude a mon to be 
returned for yane of those borouohs as coald bo 

E'tched upon, and ass such I humply recommend 
m lo your lordship's consideration. 

Lord L. Why, my dear Sir Pertinai, lo tell 
you the truth, I have already promised him ; he 
must be in for one of them ; and that is one reason 
why 1 insisted so strenuousiy— he must be in. 

Sir P. And why not 1 — why not 1 is nae yeer 
word a fiat 1 and wull it nae be always so till me 1 
are yn nail my friend, my palron 1 and are we 
nait by this imSah. of our children lo be united 
intill yane interest c 

Lord L. So I underaiand it, I own, Sir Fcr- 



jbould be gi 



but yane interest for the fiiture, let us ha'e nae 
mair words aboot these paltry boroughs, but con- 
clude the agreement at yance — -just as it stands — 
otherwise there must be new writings drawn, 
new consultations of lawyers ; new objections and 
delays will arise, creditors wull be impatient and 
impertinent — so that we shall nae finish the Lord 
knows when. 

Lord L. You aie right, you are right ; say no 
more, Mao, say no more — apfit the lawyers — you 
judge the p<»nt better than all Westmmster-haTl 
could — it shall stand as it i&— yes, it shall be 
settled your own way, for your interest and mine 
are liio same, I see plainly. Oh 1 here the law- 
yers come — so gentlemen — well, what have ye 
done— how are your opinions now % 
Enter Counsellor Flacbible and Sergeant 
EtrnensiDE. 
Serg. E. My lord, Mr. Plausible has con- 
fully convinced me, that the boroughs 
VCD up to Sir Pertinai. 
™. 1 es, my lord, I have convmced him — I 
laid such arguments before iWr. Sergeant, 

- , -. -'t ha 

mbsisted between your lordship and Sir Pertinas 
the great and mutual advantages that most at- 
tend this alliance ; the various ibreolosinga, seiz- 
ing, distracting, and in short evei^ shape of ruin 
that the law can assume ; all which must be put 
in force, should this agreement go ojf; and as Sir 
Pertinax gives his honour, that your lordship's 
nomination shaJI be sacredly observed, why, upon 
a nearer review of the whole aftir, I am convin- 
ced that it will be the wiser measure to conclude 
the agreement Just as it is drawn — jnstasttis 
drawn, my lotti: it cannot be more lo your ad- 
vantage. 

Lord L. I am very glad you think so, Mf. 
Sergeant, because that is my opinion loo — so, my 
dear Eitherade, do you and Plausible despatwi 
the business now as soon as poe^ble, 

S^^. E. My lord, every thing will be ready 
for signing in less than an hour — come, Mr. 
Plausible, &t us go and fill up the blanks, and 
put the last hand to the writings, on our part, 

Plaa. I attend you, Mr. SeiEeant. 

{Exeunt Lavn/eri. 

Lord L. And while the lawyers are preparing 
the writings, Sir Pertinax, 1 will go and saunter 
wUh the women. 

Sir P. Do, do, my lord, and I wull come lo 
you presentiy. 

Zjird L. Very well, mj dear Mac, I shall es- 

ct you. [Eiii singing. 

Sir P. So I a leetle 8atl«iy, mined wi' the 
finesse of a guilded promise on yane side, and a 
quantum snfficit of the aurum palpabile on the 
other, have at last made me the hap[nest Mher in 
Great Britain, and feel nothing but dignity and 
bn. Haud I baud t bide a wee 1 bide a 
I ha'e yane leetie mair in this aSair till ad- 
just, and then, Sir Perrinai, ye may diclalo till 
fortune herself, and send her till govern feuls ; 
while ye show, and convince the world that wise 
men always govern her. Wha's there 1 
Enter Sam, 



i>,^^OOglQ 



THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 



wi' oij lord, tlua I think is the proper j unutur 
till tee! the political pulse of my spark, and yanc 



nstaiitl; beat. 



lasule that 1 would 



Enter Eqerton, 
Come hitlier, Charles. 

Eger. Your pleasure, Sit ? 

Sit P. About twa hours ance I told jou, 
Charles, that I received this letter express, com- 
plaining of joar brotber's acteeYitj at an election 
r tiie north, against a particular fiiend of mine; 
which has given great oAcnce ; and. Sir, ye are 
mentioned lo the leltet, ass wee! ass he. To be 
plain, I must roundly tell ye, that on this inter- 
Tievr depends my happiness, ass a men and a 
ftither, and my afieclion till ye. Sir, ass a son, fiir 
the remainder of your days. 

Eger. I hope, Sir, I shall never do any thing 
«ther to forfeit your affection, or disturb your 
llappmesE. 

Sir P. I hope BO too ; but to the point — IJie 
&ct is this. There has bren a. motion made this 
vary da;, lo bring on the grand ailair, which is 
settled for Friday ee'nnight : noow, Sir, ass ye are 
populBT, ha'e lalents, and are wee) heard, it ia ex- 
pacted, and I in^stupon it, that ye endeavom- till 
atone for ^eer misconduct, by preparing and 
laking a lairee share in that question, and sup- 
porting it w? aw your poowei. 

Eger. But, Sir, I hope you will sic* so exert 
your influence, as to insist upon my sumorting a 
measure by an obvious prostituted Eophistry, in 
direct opposition to my character and my con- 

Sir P. Conscience • did ye ever hear ajny man 

poleetical mailers f oon- 

in parUament these 



WiXr^a 



se of before — Sir, it ia ai 



vord, and ye nail be laughed at for it. 

" Then, Sir, I must franbl"-" 

my nature — yon 



you work aj 



ild< 



t frankly tell you 
-e — yon would co 



I abhor. For know. Sir, tliat the malignant 
ierment, which the venal ambition of the times 
provokes in (he heads and hearls cf other men — I 

Sir P. What are ye aboot. Sir'; with your 
mah^ant, yeer venal ambeeUon, and your 



sel Sir, < 



intry — and every n: 



ambeetioi 

should be revmrded for , _ _ 

not ye wish till serve yeer country 7 
that, I say, would not ye wish till 
country t 



Sir, would 



Eger. Only show me how I 
conntryj and my life is her's. — y 

;r her fleets, aJid deal her 



e I quahlied 



MUntry, i 

honest vengeance on her insulting toes ; or could 
my eloquence puU down a state leviathan, mighty 
by the plunder of hia countir, blacfe with the 
tieasons of her disgrace, and send his infamy 
down to free posterity, as a. monumental terror to 
corrupt ambition, I would be ibremoat in such 
cervice, and act i( with the unremitting ardour uf 

Sir P. why, ye are mad, Sir; stark, staring, 
raving mad ; certainly the Mow has been bitten 
by some mad whig or other ! ye are vary young — 
vary young, indeed, in these matters ; but eiperi- 
ence wnll convince ye. Sir, that every men in 



—you 

Boence ol the 1 , _. 

counter, only as an oath m business — a thing 
of course — a mere thing o' course, that has nae- 
thing till do wi' releegion ; aiid just so it is at an 
election, exactly the same — for instance, noow, I 
am a candidate— pray observe — I gang till a peii- 
wig-maker, a hatter, or a hosier, and 1 give ten, 
(wanty, or tharty gumeas, for a periwig, a hat, or 
a pair of hose, and so on throi^h a majority o' 
voters ; vary weel, what ia the conaequence 1 why, 
this commercial intercourEe, ye see, begets afriend- 
ship betwixt us, and in a day or twa, these n 



', Sir, ii 



this a bribed n , 
Mr poleetical reasoning, it is ainly generosity in 
the jane side, and gratitude on the ithei^so. Sir, 
let me ha'e na mair of yeer releegious or philoso- 
phical relinements; but prepare — attend — and 
rk till the question, or ye are nae son o' mine — 
. 1 insist upon it. 

Eitter Sam. 

Sim. Sir, my lord says the writmgs arc now 
ready, and his lordship and the lawycra are wait- 
ing £>r you and Mr. Egeiton. 

Sir P. Vary weel; we'll attend his lordship. 
[Exit Sam-I Come, Sir, let us gang doown and 
despatch the business. 

[OoiTig, is stopped iy Eqerton 

Eger. Sir, with your permission, I beg you 
will lirst hear me a. word or two upon this sub- 
Sir P. Weel, Sir ; whttf would ye say 1 

Eger. I have olten resolved to let you know 
[Bows nerv tow.) my aversion to this match. 

Sir P. Hoow, Sill 

Eger. But my respect and tear of disobliging 
you, hitherio kept me silent. 

Sir P. Your avaraion t hoow dare ye use sic 
language till me 1 your avarsion t iuock you, Sir, 
I s&llcut the matter vary short — Consecde/— my 
fortune is nae inheritance ; aw my ain aquiseetion ; 
I can make ducks and drakes of it ; so do not 
provoke me, but sign (he articles ditecUy. 

Eger. I beg your pardon, Sa ; but 1 must be 
free on this occasion, and tell you at once, that I 
can no longer dissemble the honest pasiuon that 
fills my heart for another woman. 

Sir P. Hoowlanotherwomanl ah, ye villain, 
how dare ye love another woman without my 
panuission— but what other woman ^ whaisshel 
speak. Sir, speak, 

Eger. Conslantia. [Bowing very (oib. 

Sii' P. Constantial Oh, ye proflig^ I what, a 
creature taken in for charity 1 

Eger. Her poverty is not her crime. Sir, but 
her misfortune ; and virtue, though covered with a 
village garb, ia virtue still ; ther^re, Sir 

iSir P. Hand yeer jabbering, ye villan ! baud 
yeer jabbering I none of yeer romance, or refine- 
ment, till me. 1 ha'e but yane question till ask 
E, but yane question, and then I ha'e done wi' ye 
' ever — Hit ever — therefore think before ye 
answer ; wul! ye roany the lady, or wull ye break 
my heart "i 

Eger. Sir. my presence shall not oflend you 
any longer: hut when reason and reflection take 



r,l^.OOglC 



THE MAN OP THE WORLD. 



[AC 



Iheit turn, I am sure you will not be pleased with 
jonraelf for this unpalemal passion. [Going. 

Sir P. Tarry, I command -you — and I com- 
mand ye likewise not to aUr till ye ha'e given me 
yone answer — a defeenitive answer — wnll ye 
marry tt^ lady, or wuU ye not 1 
■ Eger^ Sinceyoacoimiiandme,S[rjknow then, 
tliat 1 cannot — wiQ not marry her, [Exit. 

Sir P. Oh ! the villain has shot me through 
the head ; he has cut my vitals ! I shall run dia 
tracted — there never was sic a bargain ass I ha'e 
made m' this feulish lord— possession of his whole 
estate, wi' three boroughs upon it ; sai members I 
why, what an acquiseetion, what consequence I 
vibkt dignity, what washt tUJ the hoose of Mac- 
»ycoph;ui( — O I domn the fellow — three boroughs, 
only ibr sending doon six broomsticks — Oh I 
miserable ; ever since this fidlow came intill tbe 



__« of miuisterial dignity, 
were times so fevourable— eveir thing coniBpires; 
for aw the auld poleelical posthorsea are bnjten- 
winded, and foundered, and canna get on; and 
ass till the rising generation, the vanity of snlv 
passing vane another in what they feuhahly caw 
taste and aitesance, binds them bond and toot in 
the chains of Rixury ; which wull always s^ them 
up till the best bidder ; so that if thE^ can bat get 
wherewithal till supply thar dissipation, a p-"""- 
ter may convert the prfeetioal morals of 
voluptuaries incill a vote that would sell the nation 
till Prcstcr John, and thar boasted leeberties till 
the great Mogul. [Erii. 



SCENE l^A lAbrary. 

Enter 8iK PehtinaX artd Bettv. 

Sir P. Come this vray, Betty, come this wa}^ ; 

yeai ' '• -' "' ^ '" --= 



a gude girl, and 111 reward you for this 
uiDvu^^iT' Oh 1 the villain I offer Jier marriage ! 

Bel. It is true, indeed ; I would not tell jMur 
hononr a Ke for the world ; but in troth it lay upon 
m; conscience, and I thought it my duty to tell 
your worship. 

Sir P. Ye are right, ye are right ; it was yeer 
duty to t«ll me, and TV. reward you for it ; ye say 
Mwster Sidney is in love wi' her too — pray, how 
came you by that intelligence 1 

Bet. Oh I Sir, I know when fiilks are in love, 
let them strive to hide it aa much as they will ^ I 
know it by Mr, Sidney's eyes, when I see him 
ateahng a sly side-look at her ; by his trembling, 
his breathing short, bis sighing when they are 
reading togemer — beddes. Sir, he made bve verses 
upon her, in praise of her virtue, and her plaj^ing 
upon the music; ay! and I suspect another thing. 
Sit ; she has a sweeUieart, if not a husband, not 
&i from hence. 

Sa-P. Whal Conslantial 

Bet. Ay, Constantia, Sir — Lord, I can know 
the whole affair. Sir, only for sending over to 
Hadloy. to &rmer Hilford's youngest daughter, 
Sukey Hitford. 

"V P. Then send this instant, and get me a 






It of it. 



i. That r vrill, t 



le, Sir. 

eep a strict watch 
ye bring me word 
.. . _ pick up aboot her, 

It this Hadley husband or sweetheart 



[Exit 



Bel. Never fear, Sir. 
Sir P. Whi's there 1 

ETiter ToMLiNS. 
Where is Maister Sidney'! 

Tom. In the drawing-room, Sir. 
Sir P. Tell him I vnmM speak wi' him. [Exit 
ToMLiNS.] Whj; suppose this Sidney noow 
should be privy till his friend Charies' love for 
Constantia— what then, gude traith, it is natural 
till think ttiat his ain love wuli demand the pre- 
ference — ay, and obtain it loo — yas 1 yas ! self- 
self ! is an ailoquent advocate on these occasions — 
for only make it a mon's interest tiU be a rascal, 
and I mink ye may safely depend upon his in> 
tegreety in serving bimsel. 

Enter Sidney. 
Sid. Sur Pertinax, yonr servant. Mr. Tomlina 
told me you desired to Bxxi with me. 

Sir P. Yes, I wanted till speak wi' ye upon a 
very angular business.— Mtdsler Sidney, give 
me yeer iiond, gin it did na loock like flattery 
(which I detest,) I would tell ye, Maisler Sidney, 
tlwitye are an honour till your cloth, yeer country, 
and till human nature, 
Sid. Sir, you are very oblidng. 
SKt p. Sit ye doon here, Muster Sidney sit 

ye doon here by me m^ friend. [ They sit.] 

1 am under the greatest obligations tilly^ tor the 
are ye ha'e t^Sen of Charles— the prmcipleg, 
.eleegious, moral, and poleetical, that ye ha'e in- 
fused inul him, demand the warmest return of 
gratitude, bMth fta him and fra me. 

"■-!, Your ap^bation. Sir, next (o that of my 
^nsdence, is the best test of my endeavours, 
and the highest applause they can receive. 

Sir P. Sir, ye deserve it, richly deserve it ; and 

uuow. Sir, the same care that ye ha'e hail of 

Charles, Uie same my wife has taken of hdr 

titvourite, and sure never were accomplishments, 

knowledge, or prjndples, social and releeglons, 

' ipressed intill a tntter nabire than Conslantia's. 

Sid. In troth, Sir, I think so Xoo. 

Sir P. She is, besides, a gcntkiwoman, and of 

s aude a femily as any in this county, 

i^. So I imderslaiid, Sir. 

Sir P. Sir, her taither had a vast estate ; the 

which he dissipated, and melted in feastings, and 

fHendslupa, and charities, hospitalities, and sie 

kind of nonsense — but to the business.- Maisler 

Sidney, I love ye— yas, I love yoa, and ha'e been 

luodtine oot. and contrivmg hoow till settle ye in 

the world ; Sir, I want till see ye comfortably and 

honoijrably fixed at the heed of a respectable 

tamily, and gin ye were mjr ain son, a thoosand 

^ I couflnaniak' a mair valuable present till 

ye for that purpose, ass a partner for life, than thie 

le Constantia, wi' ac a fortune doon wi' het 

ye yoorael shall deem to be competent ; ay, 

an assurance of every canonical contingency 

in niy poower till confer or promote. 

Sm. Sir, your ofier is noble and friendly ; but 
though the highest station would derive lustrs 
from Constantia's charms and worth ; yet, vter 
■ e more amiable than love could paint her in the 
'cr's fency, and wealthy beyond the thirst of 
! miser's appetite. I could not — would not wod 
r. "^"^ [B£s». 

Sir P. Not wed her ! odzwins, mon 1 ye surprise 
; I. why B0 1 what hinders t ' [RisBs, 

Sid. I beg you will not ask a reason for mj 



„Googlc 



THE MAN OP THE WORLD. 



refusal; bat, briejTy and finally, itfannot be, nor 
is it a subject I can longer converse upon. 

Sir P. Weel Sir, I ha'e done, I haV done — sit 
doon, mon— «t doon again — ait je doon. fThey 
rii.l I shall mention it no mote — not but I must 
confess honestly till ye, friend Sidney, that the 
match, had ye approved of my nropoaal, beaideB 
^Gtingyou, nould ha'e been of singDlar sarrice 
till me Tiftemiae ; hoowevar, ye msj stil! sarve me 
ass effectually ass if je had married her. 

Sid. Then, Sir, I am sure 1 will most heartily. 

Sir P, I believe it, I beheve it friend Sidney 
and I thank ye. I ha'e nae fiiend till depend 
upon but yoursel — my heart is almost broke — I 
canna help these t«ars; and to lell ye the &ot 
— ice, your friend Charles is struck wi' 



upon him do je understand me 1 

Sid. Not very well, Sir. 

Sir P. Why, he is grievously smitten ni' the 
love of hor, and 1 am afraid will never be cured 
withoof a leetle of your as^tante, 

Sid. Of my aaaistanee ! pray. Sir, in what 

pSKt p. In what mannerl Lord, Maister Sid- 
ney, how can ye be so dull 1 Now then, my vary 
gude friend, gin ye would take an opportunity to 
speak a gnde word for him till the wench, and 
contrive to bring them together once, why, in a 
few days after, be would nae care a iwnoh o annW 

forher. [Stdneit s(arfa «p.] What is the 

wi' ye, mon — what the deevil gars ye start and 
Inock so astonished ? 

Sid. Sir, yon amaze mel In what part of my 
mind, or conduct, have you found that baseness 
which entitles you lo treat me with thk indignity 
Sir P. Indignity — what indignity do ye mean 
Sir? la asking je till serve a friend wi' a wench 
■n indignity 1 Sir, am not I your patron and 
bene&ctor, ha ? 

&d. You are. Sir, and 1 feel your bounty at 
my heart — bat the virtuous gratitude, that sowed 
ne deep sense of it there, does not intorm me, 
that in return, the tutor's sacred function, or the 
■odal virtue of the man, must be debased inta the 
pupil's pander, or the patron's proalitule. 

Sir P. Hoow ! what, Sir, do ye dispute 7 are 
/e na my dependant — ha! and do ye hesitate 
djoot an ordmary oiveetity, which is practised 
e*erj day by men and women of the first fesbion ? 
Sir, let me tell ye, howerer nice ye may be, there 
is nae a dependant aboot the Coort that would nae 
jump at sic an oppcrtunity till oblige his patron. 

fiSd, Indeed, Sir, I believe the doctrine of lamp, 
ing for patrons may be learned in every party 
•mooi : ibr where fiiction and public venality are 

to be especled. 

Sir P. Oholoho! vary weel,fineindnuation8l 
I ken what ye glance at^-yas, ye intend this satiie 



Sir P. 1 ha'e done wi' Je — I ha'? done wi' ye. 
Ay, ay, noow I can account for my son's conduct; 
his avHtsbn till courla, till meenieters, levees, 
public boMness, and his disobedience tilL my com- ' 
mands — a perfeedious fellow— ya're a Judas 1 ya 
ha'e ruinecl the morals of my son, ye villain,. but I 
ha'e done wi' ye i however, this 1 wull prophesy 
at oor pairting, for your comfort, that gin ye air 
BO vary squeamish in obUging your patron, ye'li 
never rise in the church, 

Sid. Though my conduct. Sir, should not 
make me rise in her power, I am sure it wdl in 
ber &vour — in the favour of my own conscience 
too, and in the eattem of all worthy men ; and 
that, Su", is a power and dignity beyond what 
patrons of any denomination can confer. [Erit. 
Sir P. What a reegorous, saucy, stiff-necked 
MowitisI — I see my folly noow ; I am undone 
by mj ain policy! this Sidney was the last man 
that should ha'e beeti about my eon. The iailow, 
indeed, hath given him prindples thai might ha'e 
done vary weel among the ancient Romans, but 
ere domned unfit for Hie modem Brilons— weel ! 
gin I iiad a thoosand sons, 1 never would suffer 
yane of yeer English onivarsity bred fellows, till 
be aboot a son of mine again ; for they ha'e sic an 
a pride of leeterature and character, and sic saucy 
EngUab notions of ieeberty, conteenuallj ferme^^ 
ingm theii Ihouchls, that a man is never sure of one 



n I to do? Zoo 



1 slander upon meenislers^y 1 
lion agauist government.— Oh I ye villain— ye— 
ye sirrah — ye are a black sheep, and I'll mark ye, 
■nd represent ye ; I'll draw your picture— ah 1 ah ! 

n glad ye show youreel — yas, yaa — je ha'e 



taken off the m 



: ye 1 






naay yeara, je hypocrite ! ye impos. 
•ui — uiii I uever knew your principlea before. 

Sid. Sir, you never affrohled them before ; if 
you haJ, you should have known them sooner. 






irrylhis teggai-— I canna ait doon li 
Ihat^at ' 

it — yaa 1 1 ha'e hit upon 't. 

Bnler Betty. 



le marry (his teggai-— I canna ait doon lamely 
ider Ihat^atay, hand a wee ; by the blood, I 
ive it — yaa 1 1 ha'e hit upon 't. 



Bet. Oh! Sir, I have got the whole secret out. 

SirP, Aboot what! 

Bet. About Miss Conatanlia; I have just had 
all the particolars from farmer Hilford's youngcat 
daughter, Sukey Hilford. 

^tP. Weel, weel, but what is the atoryl 
quick, quick, what is it 1 

Bel. Why, Sir, it is certain that Mrs, Con- 
stanlia has a sweetheart, or a husband, a sort of 
a gentleman, or a gentleman's gentleman, they 
don't know which, that lodges at Gaffer Hoiigcs'j 
for Sukey says she saw them together last niglit 



.Sir J". Ah ! I am afraid this is I 






Ullbi 

Bel. Oh 1 Sir, it is certainly true ; besidea, Sir, 
she baa just writ a letter to the gallant; and I 
■■ave sent John Gardener lo her, who is lo carry 
to Mm lo Hadiey ; now. Sir, if your worship 
'ould aeiie the letter. See, aee, Sir, here John 
jmes, with the letler in ids hand! 
■Sir P. Go, go i step ye out, Betty, and leave 
le fellow till me. 
Bet. 1 will. Sir, [ExiL 

Enter John, leith a packet and a Utter. 
John, There, go you into my pocket, [Puts 
up the packet] 'There 's nobody in the library- - 
} III b'du go through the short way ; let me see 
fhatislhename— Mei— Melljl— Oh! no! Mel- 
[He, at Gal!er Hodges'. 
Sir P. What letter is that. Sir 1 
Juhn. Letter, Su'l 
Sir P. Give it me, Sir, 
John. An't please your honour, Sir — it it is 



io,t,d=, Google 



Sir P. DBliver it this instant, Sitrahj or I'll 
break yeer head, 

John. There, there, your honour. 

[Gives the letter to Sir PEBTiNis:. 

Sir P. Be gone, rascal— this I suppose wuU 
let uB intiil the whole husiness. 

John. You have got the letter, old surly, but 
Uie packet is safe in my^pocki 



THE MAN OF THE WORLD. [act 

Lady M. As well aa I do my own, Sir i 






Uml- 



uo.>,>,. i..»^ . ; for I wull be 

Mrs, Coii3taiitia,inBi)iteofyoii. {-Aside 

Sir, P. [Reading tlie letter.] Um!- ^ 
Um I And bleaa my eyes with the atgh 
Um ! om 1 Throw myself into your de 
Zoouna, this letter is invaluable I 
Enter Beti'y. 
Oh ! Betty, ye are an axcellent wench, this letter 
la worth a million. 

Bet. In it as J suspected, Sir, to her flweet- 

Sir P. It ia— it is 1 bid Constantia pack oot of 
the house thia instant ; and let them get the uhaise 
ready lo carry her wherever she pleases but first 
send my wilfe and son hither. 
Bet. I shall, Sir, , . , , 

SSr P, Do so, be gone, [Exit Betty,] Aha! 
Maisler Charles, I believe I sliall i:ure your passion 
for a vartuous bcMar noow ; I think he canna be 
so infatuated as to be a dope till a strumpet— let 
me see— hoow am I till act noowT—why, like a 



ConstL_ 

Sir P. It is soi and a better evidence it v, 
than any that can be given by the human tongue ; 
here is a viarm, rapturous, lascivious letter, under 
the hypocritical siren's ain bond ; her ain hond 
Sir, her ain hond. But judgo yourselves— read 

Eger. [Reads.] / have only time to tell yoa, 
that the family come dawn aooner than I expect- 
ed, and thai I cannot bleas my eyes v>ith the sight 
qf yoa till the evening. The notes and jewels, 
irfticft the bearer wUl deliver to you, loere pre- 
sented to me, since I saw you, by the son of my 

Sir P. Now, mark, 

Eger. [Reads,] All v>hwh I beg you will eoii- 
oei-t to your own immediate use, for my heart 
kae no room for any viish, or fortune, but what 

yontrSmtes to your relitfand happiness. 

Sir P. Oh, Charles, Charles 1 do ye see. Sir, 
whatadnpeehemaktsofyoul But mark what 
" llowB ; mark, Charles, mark. 
Eger. [Reads,] Oft, how I long- 
Sir P. Mark. 
Eger. [Reads,] To throw myself into yovx 

'■P. Mark, mark, 
_„-e7-. [ReadaJ To sooth your fears, i/our ap- 
prehensions, and your 
thing to tell you of the 



Enter Lady MaCsycophant and Eqehto 
Weei, Charles, notwithstanding the meesery ye 
ha'e brought upon me, I ha'e sent for ye and yeet 
mother, in order till convince ye haith of roy af- 
fection, and my readiness ail forgive ; nay, and 
even till indulge your parvarse pasSLon ; ibr since 
I find this Constantia has got hold of your heart, 
and that yonr mother and ye think that ye ean 
never be hawiy withoot her, why I'll nae longer 



oppose youi 



nclLnati 



"'^Sg-er.Dear Sir, you snatch me from the sharp- 
est misery. On my knees, let my heart thank 
you for this goodness. 

Lady M. Let me express my ^anks 

yjoy;fothBd 



ly joy ; lot had you 
uglier, we all shoul 



„> P. Weel, I am elad I ha'e found a 
tili please ye haith at last — but n 



sfiould have been mieerahle. 

n glad I ha'e found : 

it last— but noow, my dt 

Charles, supposa noow, that this spotless vestal, 

this wonder nt vartue, this idtd of your heart, 

should be a concealed wanton after aw 1 

Eger. A wanton. Sir! \E(^eTly. 

Sir P. Or suppose that she shouki have an 

engagement of marriage, or an intrigue wi' another 



!t this 



I hate some- 
ioment, but vtiU 
ng in the dark 



In the dark walk 1 

Sir P. In the dark walk— ah ! an evil-eyed 
curse upon herl yas, yae, she has been often in 
the dart walk, I believe— but read, read ! 

Eger. [Reads,] In the meantime, banish <dl 
fears, and hope the best,fromfortune, and yow 
ever dutiful and ever nfficiuinate 

Constantia Harrington, 

SirP. There, Ihere'sawarmepistle for youT 
in short, the &ct ia— the hussy, ye must know, is 
married till the fellow. 

Eger. Not unlikely, Su. 

Lady M. Indeed, by her letter, I beheve she is. 

air p. Noow, Madam, what amends can ye 
make me for countenancing your son's passion for 
Mcan a reptiiel and ye. Sir, what ha'e you till 
say for your disobedience and your freniyf Oh! 
Charles ! Charles, you'll shorten my da™ I 

[Sits down. 

Eger. Pray, Sir, he patient — compose your- 



will make you any compensa- 






; I say, only sn 



ing a dupe of ye »' 



what would ve Uilnf. 

Eger. I should think her 
and the most subtle of her t 
would never think of her agaii 

Sir P. Wult ye give me y€ 

Eger. Most solemnly, Sir, 

Sir P. Enough— I am satisfied, [Onei 
joy] Youmake me young again; I was 
ye were fascinated wi' the charms of a crack. Do 
ye ken this hond 1 

Eger. Mighty well, Sir, 

Sir P. And ye, Madain % 



X, and if possible 
r honour of tbaf? 



of 



self a 

tionin my powe., 

SSr P. Then instantly sign the 
marriage. 

Bger. The lady. Sir, lias never yet been con- 
It^, and I have some reason to beheve that her 
heart 13 engaged to another man. 

Sir P. Sir, that is nae business of yours-^T 

._.iow she wull consent ; and that 's aw we arc till 

consider. Oh I here comes my kird ! 

Enter Lord Lumbercourt. 

Ijird L. Sir Pertinai, every thing is ready, 

and the lawyers wall for us. 

Sir P. we attend your lordship ; where la 
Lady Rodolpha 1 

Lord L Giving some female consolation to 
poor Constantia, Why, my lady! ha! hal ha! 
I hear your vestal, Constantia, has been flirting 1 



Jr,,(^.OOgLC 



Sir P. Ys9, yas, mj lord, she is in very 
order for ainy mon thai wanK a wife, and ai 
tiU his estate, intill tlie bargain. 

Enter Tom L ins. 

Tom. Sir, there's a. man below, that wai 

(tpeak to jour honour upon paiticular busini 

Sir P. Sir, I caiina speak till any body no 

he must come another time ; hand— -stay, what, is 

be a gentleman % 

Tom. He looks something like one, Sir; a soi 
of a^tleman; but he seems to be in a kind of 
paasion ; for when I asked his name, he answered 
hastilj;, 'tis no matter, friend, go tell your master 
Aero JB a gentleman here, (hat must speak to him 
oireclly. 

Sir P. Must; ha I very peremptory indeed t 
pr ythee let 's see this angry sort of a gentleman 
for curiosity's salte. {Ent Tomlins, 

BnieT Lady Rodolphj. 
Lady P. Oh ! my Lady Maesycophant, I am 
come an humble advocate for a weeping piece of 
female ftidlty ; who begs she may be permitted to 
speak till your ladyfJiip, before you finally repro- 

Sirl 
but it m 

Lady M. Nay, there can be no 
in hearing what she has to say to 

Sir P. I teU you, it shall not h 

Lady M. Well, well, my dear 
have done. 



THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 

gudi 



Enter Tomlins and MrxviLDE. 
Tarn. Sir that is my master. 
i5ir P. Weel, Sir, pray what is your urgent 



Mel. A man. Sir. 
Sir P. A mon. Sir I 
Mel, And one whose spirit and f 
bore as proud a sway as any within this country's 

Lord L. You seem to be a soldier, Sir ! 
_ Mel I waa. Sir, and have the soldiei 
tificate, to prove my service— lags and sea 
ten long years, in India's panihing clime, I bore 
my country's cause, and in noblest dangers 



tookm 



Paternal affection brought „ ,„, 

native land, in quest of an only child, I found 
her, as I thought, amiable as paternal fondness 
could deare; but foul seduction has snatched her 
from me; and hither am I come, ftaught with a 
father'a anger, and a soldier's honour, to seek the 
seducer, and glut revenge. 

Lady M. Pray, Sir, who is your daughter 1 

Mel. I blush to own her— but — Constantia. 

Omnes. How I 

LadyM. Constantia 1 

Eger. 1b Constantia your daughter. Sir! 

Mel. She is, and was the only comfort that , 
nature, fortune, or ray own eitravagance, had left chcel to bring 
""" I him riding on 



better than she should be— she has had nae 
damage in this mansion; but ye may gang till 
Hadley, till yane larmer Bodges, and there ye 
may learn (lie whoie story, fra a cheel thev caw 
Melville. ■* 

Mel. Melville I 
Sir P. Yas, Sir; Melville. 
Mel. O ! would to heaven she had no crime to 
answer but her commerce with Melville— no. Sir, 
he is not the man ; it is your son, your Egerton, 
that baa seduced her! and here. Sir, are the evi- 
dences of his seduction. 

Eger. Of my seduction. Sir! 
Mel. Of yours, Sir, if yonr name be Egerton, 
Eger. 1 am that man. Sir; but pray what is 
your evidence 1 

Mel. These bills, and these gorgeous jewels — 
)t to he had in her menial slate, but at the price 
of chastity ; not an hour since she sent them, im- 
pudently sent them, by a servant of this house; 
— ilagious infamy started from their touch. 

Eger. Sir, perhaps you may be mistaken con- 
ning the terms on which she received them ; 
do you but clear her conduct with respect to Mel- 
■ '" I, and 1 will instantly saHsfy your fears con- 
:erning (he jewels and her virtue. 
lel. Sir, you give me iiSw hfe ; you are my 
. ...Brangel— I befievein your words, your looks- 
know then— I am that Melville. 

Sir P. Hoow, Sir! ye that Melville, that was 
at fermer Hodgee"? 

Mel. The same. Sir; it vras he brought my 
Constantia to my arms ; lodged and secreted me-- 
onco my lowly tenant, now my only friend; 
the fear of inexorable creditors made me change 
my name from Harrington to Melville, till I could 

my friends, 

Eger. Sir, suspend yourfcara and anger but 
fora few minutes — I will keep my word with yon 
religiously ; and bring your Constantia to your 
arms, aa virtuous and as happy as you could wish 

[Exeunt Ljdv MACSYCOpaANT and Eqerton. 
Sir P. The clearing up of this wench's vir- 
e is domned aniucky I Tm afraid it wull ruin 

"■-'-sagain- ' " ■ ' 

leed, thi 



3r affairs ac 






!, that wull St 

ly lord, let matters gang as they wull, [Aside.] 
Mi I wonder, Maister Slelville, that ye did nae 
fadi u^ some leelle matter of silver in the Indies— 
bonny fortunes snappeil up 
mpehtary 



there ol late yeam by s 



Mel Veiy true. Sir but 
mong aolilier?, that there are some me 
e*er meet with any thing in the scrvi 
lows and ill fortune — I was one of those i 
proverb 

Sit p. Ah J 'tis pity, Sir ; a great pity, 
that ye did nae ge! " ' 

1 ,_..-JI jQuf ^y| 



observation 



-Ah I I should like till 

,ethe strangling of a nabob— the rummaging 

his gold dust, his jewel closet and aw h£ 

'""''"" "'''""snd ineota; ha I halhal gud« 

in a fellow would be a bonny 

till this toown, and till eihibit 

' 'phant f upon honour, a mon 



ir till pay the debla of the ni 



./Google 



THE MAN OP THE WORLD. 



Enler Egehton, CoNaPANTii, LxDV Macsyco- 
pHANT, and Sldney. 
Eger. Sir, I promised lo satisfy your fears 
concerning jour daughter's virtue ; and my best 
proof Co you and all tha world, thut I think her 
not only chaate, but the most deserving of her bbi, 
is, that I have made her tlie partner of my heart, 
and the tender guardian of my earthly happiness 

Sir P. IIoow married 1 

Eger. I know, Sir, at present we shall meet 
your anger- -but tune, reflection, and our dutiful 
conduct, we hope, will reconcile you to our hap- 

Sir P. Naver, naver ; and could I mata ye, 
her, and aw your issue, beKars — I would move 
hell, heaven, and earth til! ^ct it. 

Lord L. Why, Sir Perlinai, this is a total 
revolution, and will endrely rain my aiiairB. 

Sir P. Mv lord, wi' the consent of your lord- 
ship and Lady Rodolpha, I ha'e an expedient till 
offer, that wull not ainly punish that rebellious 
villain, but answer every end that your lordship 
and Lady Rodolpha proposed by the intended 
match wi him. 

Lord L, I doubt it much. Sir Pertjnai; I 
doubt it much : but what is it, Sirl what is your 
expedient "l 

Sir P. My lord, I ha'e another son, my son 
Sandy, he is a gude lad ; and provided the leady 
and your iordship ha'e nae objection till him, eveiy 
article of that rebel's intended mafriage shall be 
amply fiillil led, upon Lady Rodolpha'a union with 
my younger son, Sandy. 

Lord L. Why, that is an expedient, indeed, 
Sir Pertinai ; but what say you, Rodolpha 1 

Zxtdy R. Nay, nay, my lord, ass 1 had nae 
reason till ha'e the least affection till my cousin 
Egerton, and ass my intchded maniage wi' him 
was entirely an act of obedience till my grand- 
mother, provided my cousin Sandy wull be as 
agreeable till her ladyship, ass my cousin Charlei 



here would ha'e been- 



e the le 



jecUon till the change ; ay, ay, upon honour jane 
brother is ass gude till Rodolpfia ass another. 

Sir P. I'll answer. Madam, for your grand- 
mother i noow, my lord, what say jrou % 

Lord L. Nay, Sir Pertinax, so the aereement 
stands, all is right again ; cooie, child, let us be 
gone. Look ye. Sir Pertinax, let me have no 
more perplexity or trouble about writings, lawyers, 



duns, debts, or daughter | only let me be at my 
ease, and tat meif Icaro one pinch of snuff if her 
ladyship conoorporates with the eham of Tartary. 

[Exit LOHD LUMBEBCOORT 

Jmj Lady Macsjcophant, . 
, before je gave your consent 



^Ibis 



^ _, _ tl^t— tW damned black sh . 

there. [ExU Sik Pertinax. 

Ladi/ R. Weel, cousin E^rton, in spite o' the 
ambeetious frenzy o' jour famer, and the thouffht- 
lesE deesipation o' mine, don Copid has at last 
earned his point in fevour o' his oevolees; but 1 
mun noow take mj leave with the &g-end of an 
auld north countrj wish, brought fra the hospita- 
ble land of feir Strathbogie ; may mutual love and 
gude humour ever be the guest of your hearts, the 
theme of your tongues and the bliehsome phan- 
tom of aw jour tricksy dreams through the 
rugged road of this crooked, deceitful world ; and 
roaj our fathers be an example to oorsels, that 
will remind us to treat oor baitns, should heaven 
croon our endeavours, wi' more lebeeralitj and 
afieotion, than that with which oor fethers have 
treated usl [ExU Lady Rodolpha. 

Eger. You seem melancholy. Sir. 

Mei. These precarious turns of fortune. Sir, 
will press upon the Tieart: for nolwitstanding my 
Constantia's happiness, and mine in hers, I oi 



)t help & 



I, that 



fortunes should be cause of any d 

between a father and the man to >iiuui j. nui 

under ^e moat endearing obligations. 

Eger. You, Sir, have no share in his disa- 
greement; for had not you been born, from my 
fethei^s nature, some other i 






re happened ; and angi J vicissitudes 
~- 1 f .." all : i? afflue-™ -■." 



procure content and ease, they are within our 
reach. My fortune is ample, and shall be dedi- 
cated to the happiness of tins domestic circle. 
My scheme, though mock'd by knave, coquette, 

and fool. 
To thinking minds must prove this golden rale : 
Tn all pursuits— but chiefly in a wife. 
Not wealth, hot morals, make the happy life. 

[ExeKTIX. 



./Google 



THE APPRENTICE: 

A FARCE, 

iNTWOAcra, 

BY ARTHUR MURPHY. 



REMARK& 



and bJB admirable recllHlion of the prologue. 



{J^-Ths marginal references lo Ihe numerous quotations 
inlerCere ea UDpleasantlf wilh tbo leu. thai Ibey are omiti 
heigliien ihe eSfeci of ilie piece, and are eaailj Iraced by le 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Ae originally acted at dkury lane, 1756, DKUitk 

WiNOiTE, Mr. Yalei. .Mr 

DtCK, Mr. Waodmard. Mr 

Gabolx. Mr.Burtm. Mr 

Simon, Mr. H. Vemhan. Mr. 

ScoTBMAK, , Mr.Bhkes.. 



Catchpolb,.. 
Chanattb... 



Mis3 Minora. Mri.Orgi 

Spouting Club, Walchmen, &c. 



Carr. 
Fither. 
Maddwkt. 



Whose doleful maruh may strike the hardeti'd 

And waifiitB 
To-night no 



clings — for tile dead— behind. 
Dueled scenes from France v 



From real life our little cloth is im'd. 

The hero is a youth, — by Fate deeign'd 

For culling Nrnplee, — but whose alage^Cnick mini] 

Nor Fate could rule, nor his indentures tnnd. 

A place there is where such young ftniiolee 

'Tis call'd the Spouting Club, — a glorious 

Where 'prentic'd kings — alarm the gaping street : 
There Brutus starts and stares by midnight taper, 
Who, all the day, enacts — a woiSlen-dntper. 
There Hamlet's ghost stalks forth with doubled 

fist. 
Cries out with hollow voice, — " List, list, O list I" 



„ Google 



70 THE APPEENTICE. 

And y^htens Denmark's prince, a young tobac- i 



The i-iatit, too, cleared from his deadly wliite, 

Risoa, a haberdasher to the eight I 

Not jpung attornjeB— have this rage withstood, 
But ciangB tlieir pens for truncheona, inli for 

And (*ranee reverse!) die for tl^ir country's 

To ch&^ these heroes, and their laurels cmp, 
To bring 'em back lo reason — and their shof 
Our antlio' 



WiUl 



te;— O you, Tom, Jack, 1 



Who hold (he balance, or who gild the [nil ! 
Who wield the yard, and eimporing pay your 

And, at each flourish, snip an inch too short ! 
Q,uit not you' shops; there thrift and profit call. 
Whilst here, j lung gentlemen are apt to fill 1 

[BeU rings. 
But fioft 1 — the DCorapter calls !— brief let me be- 
Here groans yiiu'll hear, and flying apples sen, 
Be damn'd nei naps ; farewell l^remember me ! 



Enter WlNGATK and SlMON. 

Win. Nay, nay, but I tell you I am convinced 

—I know it is so; and so, friend, don't you think 

to trifle with me ; I know you're in the plot, you 

scoundrel; ami if you don't discover all, I'll— 

Sim. Dear heart. Sic, you won't give a body 

Win. Zookers! a whole month missing, and no 
account of him &r or near !— Sirrah, I say he 
could not be 'prentice lo your master so long, and 

Eou live BO long in one liouse, with hira, without 
nowinghia haunts and all his ways — and then, 
vadet, what hrings yon here to my house sooften' 
Sim. My master Gargle anil I, Sir, are so un- 
easy about un, that I have been running all over 
the town since morning to inquire for un ; and so 
in my way I thought I m^ht as well call here. 

Win, A lillain, W give Ma lather all this 
trouble. And so you have not heard any thing 
of him, friend' 

Sim. Not a vrord. Sir, as 1 hope for marcy, 
though, as sure as you are there, 1 behave I can 
gness what 's come on un. As sure as any thing, 
master, the gipsies liave gotten hold on un ; and 
we shall have un come home as thin as a lake, 
like the young girl in the city, with living upon 
nothing but crusts and water for sii-and-twenty 

Win. The gipsies have got hold of him, ye 
blockhead ! Get out of the room Here yon. 



Win. Where are you going in such a hurry 1 
Let me see; what must be done? A ridiculous 
numskull , with his damned CasBanders and Clop- 

Btras, and trumpery; vrith his romances, and his 
[lyssey Popes, and a parcel of rascals not worth 
a groat ! Zookers ! I'll not put myself in a pas- 
sion. Simon, do you step back to your master, 
my friend Gargle, and tell Mm I want to speak 
with him— though 1 don't know what I should 



-a sly, slow, hesitating block- 



when I bi_^--. 
Sim. Yes, Sir. [E^ 

Win. This fellow will be the death of me a^ 
last! ihavebeon turmoiUngforhimall the days 
of my life, and now the scoundrel 's run away. 
Suppose I advertise the dog?— Ay, but if the vil- 
lain should deceive me, and happen to be dead, 
why then he tricks me out of sii Hhilhnga— my 

money's flung into the fire. Zookers, I'll not 

putmyself in a passion; let Mm follow his nose — 
'tis nothing at at all to me — what care 1 1 

Re-enter SiMOrf. 
What do you come back for, friend 1 



1. As I 






to the door, and brought this lette 

Win. Let me see it. The gipsies have got 
hold of him, lia, ha I What a pretty fellow 

Siu are ! ha, ha ! — Why don't you step where I 
d you. Sirrah 1 

Sftm, Yes, Sir. . [Exit. 

Win. Well, well, I'm resolved, and it snail be 
so— I'll advertise him to-morrow morning, and 
promise, if he comes liome, all shall be forgiven, 
and when the blockhead comes, I may do as 1 
please, ha, ha I I may do as I please. Let me 
see — he had on— slidikins, what signifies what 
he had on t I'll read my tetter, and think no 

more about him, Hey ! what a plague have 

we here? ( Mutters lo himself.] Bristol— a.— 
what 's all this 1 

[Reads.] " Esteemedfriend, — Last loos (men. 
tieth vttima, sln<:e none qf thine, ichieh vntl occa- 
sion brevity. The reason qf my leriting to Ihee 
at present, is to inform thee that thy son came 
to OUT plate iiritk a company of stroUers, ibAo 
v?erc taken up by the magistrate, and conimitted 

as vagabonds to jail." ZoiAers 1 I'm glad of 

it — a villain of a Mlow t let him lie there. " / 

am sorry thy lad should follaie such prqfane 
eouTses ; but out (if the esteem I bear unto thee, 
I have taken thy boy out /jf conJinemenl,and sent 
him ijffor your diy in the aaggon, which l^fl 
this four days ago. Be is consigned lo thy ad- 
dress, being the needful from thy friend and 

"Ebeneeer Bboadbhjm." 
Woundsl wnai did he lake the fellow out for? 
A scoundrel, rascal I turned stage-player !— I'll 



do you go 
[Bias 



Sim, I met my master over the way. Sir. 
Our cares are over. Here is Mr. Gargle, Sir. 

Win. Let him come in — and do you go down 
staira, you blockhead. 

JEnier Gae 

So, friend Gargle, here 's a fine piece of work- 
Dick's turned vagabond 1 

Oar. He must he put under a proper regimen 
directly, Sir.— He arnved at my house within these 
ten minutes, but in such a trim I He 'a now below 
stairs: 1 .judged it proper to leave Mm there till I 
had prejwred you for his reception. 

Win. Dealh and fire 1 what could put il into 
the villain's head to turn buffoon ? 

Gar. Nothing so easily accounted for : why 



h,l^,OOgLC 



•■] 



THE APPRENTICE. 



71 



eonatantij 

&rcea, anJ Shakspeate. 

Win. Ay, Chat damned Snakspeare ! I hear the 
fyiow maa nothing but a deer-alealer in War- 
wickshire! I never read Shakspeare. Wounds 1 
I caught the rascal mjself reading that nonsensi- 
cal pFay of Hamlet, where the prince is keeping 
company with atrollers and va^bonds. A fine 
eiamplfl, Mr, Gargle. 

Gar, His diaorderisof the mahgnantkind,anc] 
mv daughter has taken the infection from him. 
Bless my heartt — she was as innocent as water- 
gruel, liU he spoileii her. I found her the other 
night in (he »erj fact. 

Win. Zookara ! yon don't aay so 1 caught her 
in the fact. 

Gar, Ay, in the veiy feci of reading a. piny- 
book in bed. 

Win. Oh, is that the fact you mean 1 Is that 
all t though that 'a bad enough. 

Gar. But I have done for my young madam ; 
I have confined her to her room, and locked up 
all her books. 

Win. Look ye, friend Qargle, I'll never see 
the villain's face. Let him follow his nose and 
Hte the bridle. 

Gar. Sir, I have found out that he went three 
times a week to a spouting club. 

Win, A sponting ciuh, friend Gargle I what ' 
a spouting club % 

Gar. A meeting of 'prenUces, and clerks, and 
giddy young men^ intoiicated with plays ; and - 
they meet in pnbhc houses, to act speeches ; the 
thejr all neglect business, despise the advice ._ 
their friends, and think of nothing but to become 

Win. You don't say sol a spouting club! 
vniunds, I believe they are all mad. 

Gar. Ay, mad indeed, Sir: madness is occa- 
ooned in a very extraordinary manner; the spirits 
fli>wing in particular channels — 

Wilt. 'Sdeath, you are as mad yourself as any 
irfthem. 

Got. And continuing to run in the same 

Wirt. Ducks 1 damn your ducks ! Who 's be- 
low there t Tell that fellow to come up. 

Gar. Dear Sir, be a little cool — inflammatories 
may be dangerous.— Do pray. Sir, moderate your 
passions. 

Win, Pr'ythee be quiet, man; III try what I 
can do. Here he comes. 



Enter Dick. 

Dick. Now my good tather, what 'a the matter ? 

Win. So, friend, you have been upon your 
travels, have you' you have had your frolic! 
Look ye, young man, I'll not put myself in a pas- 
sion. But, death and fire, you scoundrel, what 
right have you to plague mc in this manner % do 
you think fmust fell in love with your &ce, be- 
cause 1 am yonr father % 

Dick. A Dttle more Chan kin, and less than 
kind. [Aside. 

Win. Ha, ha ! what a pretty figure you cut 
now ! Ha, ha I why don't you apeak, you block- 
head ? have you nothing to say for yourself 7 

Dick, Nothing to say for yourself. What an 
old prig it is. [Aside 

Win. IMind me, friend, I have found you out ; 
I see youll never cmne to good. Tuut stage- 



E layer ! wounds ! youll not have an eye in your 
aad in n month ; ha, ha 1 you'll have 'em knocked 
out of the soekets with withered apples re- 
member, 1 teli you so. 

Oict. A crido too ! [Whislles.] Well done old 
Squaretoes. 

Win, Look ye, young man, take notice of 
what I say ; I made my own fortune, and 1 could 
do (he same agam. Wounds ! if 1 were placed 
at the bottom of Chancery-lane, with a brusli and 
black-ball, I'd make my own fbitnne again. You 
read Shakspeare ! get Cocker's Arithmetic ; you 
may buy it for a shillmg on any stall— best hook 
(haC ever was wro(e. 

Dick. Pretty well, that ; bigenious, faith ! 'Egad, 
the old fellow has a pretty notion of letters. 

lAside. 
Win. Can you (ell how much is five-eightlis of 
ofapoundl Five-eighths of three- 

Snmd. Ay, ay, I see you're a 
ye, young man, if you have a 
mind (0 thrive in this world, study figures, and 
make yourself useful — make yourself useful. 

Dic/c, How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable 
seem to me all the uses of this world ! [Aside. 

Win. Mind the scoundrel now. 

Gar, Do, Mr, Wingete, let mo speak to him 
—softly, softly— I'll touch him gently.— Come, 
come, young man, lay aside this sulky humour, 
and speak as becomes a son. 

Dick. O. Jephtha,judgeof Israel, what a trea- 
sure hadst thou ! 

Win. What does the feUow say 1 

Gar. He relents. Sir. Come, c( 
man, he'U forgive. 

Dick. They fool me to the top o 
'Gad, I'll hum 'em, to get rid of 'em— a irui 
disposition, good my lonlT No, Jio,sCay, that 's t 
right — I have a better sneejih. [iisitts.] I( is 
you aay — when we are soher, and reflect but ei 
so Itttte on our follies, we are ashamed and sorr 
and yet, the very next minute, we rush again i 



imo, young 
if my bent. 



friend ; conunanding oi 



ti pasaons, and art- 



. ..-- but I 

'( put myself in a pastaon. 'Tia my regard 
for you makes me apeak; and if 1 tell yon you're 
a scoundrel, 'tis lor your good. 

Dick. Without doubt, Sir. [Safling a laugh. 
Win. If you want any thing, you shall be pro- 
vided. Have you any money in your pocket 1 
Ha! ha! what a ridiculous numskull you are 

[Pulls oat kis money and looks at ii.\ III give it 
to you another time ; and so you'll mmd what i 
say to you, and make yourself usefiil for the future. 
IHck, Elae, wherefore breathe 1 in a Chris- 
tian land % 

Win. Zookers 1 you blockhead, you'd better 
ck to your buMneaa, than turn hufloon, and get 
truncheons broke upon your arm, and be tumbling 
upon carpets. 

Dick. I shall in all my beat obey you, daddy. 
Win. Very well, friend — very well said— you 
ty do very well if you please ; and so I'll say no 
lie to you, but nmke yourself useful ; and so 
<w go and clean yourself, and make ready to go 
me to your boMness — and mind me, young man, 
me see no more play-books, and let me ne»er 
find that you wear a laced waistcoat — you scoun- 



„ Google 



73 



THE APPRENTICE. 



[A^ 



drel, what right have you to t 

coat 1—1 never wore a laced 

wore one till I waH fort;.— But I'll not put mfEelf 

in a passion — go and change your dreaa, fiienil. 

Dick. 1 Bhaff, Sir 

I must be cioel, only to be kind ; 

Thua bad beginSj-hut worse remaina behinii. 
Cocker'a Arithmetic, Sat 

Win. Ay, Cocker'a AiithmBtic— atudy figurea, 
and tliey'U oarry you through the world. 

Dick. Ybb, Sir. [Stijling a laugh.] Cocker's 
Arithmetic! [Eiii, 

Win. Let Mm mind me, Mend Gar^e, and I'll 
make a man of him. 

Oar. Ay, Sir, you know the world. — The young 
man will do very nell^-I wish he were out of his 
lime ; he shall ttien have my daughter. 

Win. Yes, hut I'll touch the cash-rhe shan't 
finger it during my lite. — 1 must keep a. tight 
himd over him — {Goes to the door,] — Do ye hear, 
ftiend 1 — Mind what 1 aay^ and go home to your 
business immediately. — Friend Gargle, I'll make 

Re-entcT D(Ck. 

Dick. Who called on Achmet! Did not Bar- 
barosaa recmire me here % 

Win. What's the matter now ■?— Barossa 1— 
Wounds ! — W'hat 's Barossa 1 — Does the fellow 
call me names 1 — What makes the blockhead 
Mand in such confusioii % 

Dick. That Barbarossa should suspect my 
truth! 

Win. The fellow 's stark, staring mad — get oat 
of the room, you villain, get out of the room. 

[Dick elands in a sullen mood. 

Oar. Come, come, young man, every thing is 



lay, he ruled b} 



[Thrvais him (^. 



Qothing to say 
to him. Well, but now 1 think of it. I have Cock- 
er 's Arithmetic below atajrs in ihe counting-house 
— Ill step and get it tot hun, and so he shall take 
it home with him. Friend Garsle, your servant. 

Gar. Mr. Wingat«, a ^ootl evening to yoo. 
You'll send him home to hia busincssl 

Win. He shall follow you home directly. Five- 
eighths of three-Mxteenlha of a pound !— multiply 
tM numerator by the denominator 1 6ve limes 
Hileen is ten times «ght, ten times eight is eighty, 
and — a — a — carry one. [i'lii. 

He-enter Djck and Simon. 

Sim. Lord love ye, master — I'm so glad you're 
come back — come, we had as good e'en gang home 
Id my master Gsrgle'a. 

Dick. No, no, Simon, alay a moment — this is 
but a scurvy coal I have on, and I know my father 
has alwaya some jemmy thing locked up in hia 
closet — I know hia ways — he takes "em in pawn ; 
for he'll never part vrilh a ahilling without security. 

Sim. Hash ! he'll hear us— stay, I believe he 's 

Did. (aoea to Ike door, and iigfens.l No, no, 
no, lie 's going down, growUng and grurnWing — ay, 
say ye so 1—' Scounurol, rascal let him bite the 
bndle.— Sii Umea twelve is seventy two.'— All 's 
safe, man ; never fear him. Do you stand here— 
I shall despatch this business in a crack. 



Sim. Bles^nga on him ! what is he about now 1 
Why, the door is locked, master. 

Dick. Ay. but I can easily force the lock — you 
shall see me do it as well as any Sir John Brule of 
'em all — this right leg 

iSSm. Lord love you, master, that's not youi 
right leg. 

Dick. Pho 1 you fool, don't you know I'm drunk) 
this right leg here is the best lock-smith in Eng- 
land ; so, so. J^Forces the door, and goes in. 

Sim. He's at his plays again; odds my heart, 
he's a rare hand, he'll go through with it I'll war- 
rant him. Old Codger must not smoke that I 
have any concern — Imustbemuncautious. Lord 
bless his heart, he's to teach me to act Scrub. 
He begun with me long ago, and I got as far as 
the Jesuit before a went out of town :— Scrub — 
coming, Sir — Lord, ma'am, I've a whole packet 
suy one thing, and some say 

saJe- 



Re-enter Dick. 

Dick. I have done the deed; — didst thou not 
lieuranoise? 

Sim. No master; we're aJI snug. 

Dick. This coat will do charmingly; 1 have 
bilked the old fellow nicely. In a dark cornrr of 
his cabinet, I found this paper ; what it is the 

light will show. — [Heads,] 'I promise to pay,' 

Sa ! ' I promise to pay to Mr. Moneytrap, or 

order, on demand' 'Tis hia hand— a note of 

his — yet more ' the sum of seven pounds, 

fourteen shillings, and seven pence, value received 
' ' me London, this 15th June, 1T75.' 

i'is wan^g what should follow ; his name shall 

llow, but 'tia torn off, because the note is paid. 

Sim. O, lud ! dear Sir, you'll spoil all. I wish 

e were well out of the house. Out best way, mas- 

r, is to make off directly. 

Dick. I will, I will ; but first help me on with 

is coat. Simon, you shall Ije my dteaaer; 

you'll be fine and ha^py behind the scenes. 

Sim. O, !ud ! it will be main pleasant ; 1 have 

len behind the screens in the country. 

Dick. Have you, where f 

Sim.. Why, when I Uved with the man that 
showed wild beastices. 

Dick. Hark ye, Simon, when I am playing 
some deep tragedy, and cleave the general ear with 
horrid speech, you must take out your white 
pocket hand kerehief and cry Iritterly. 

[Teaeheehim. 

Sim, But I haven't got a white pocket hand- 
kerchief 

IMck. Then ru lend you mine. 

[PuUs oat a ragged oiw. 

Sim. Thank ye. Sir. 

Dick. And when I am playing comely, you 
must be ready to laugh your guts out, [Teackei 
him.] for I siiaU be very pleasant "I'oll-deroll. 

Sim. Never doubt me. Sir. 

Dick. Veiy well ; now run down and open ths 
street door ; I'll follow you in a crack. 

^m. I'm gone to serve you, master. 

Dick. To serve thyself— for, look ye, Simon, 
when I am manager, claim Ihou of me the care rf 
the wardrobe, with all those moveables, whereof 
the property-man now alands poaa^sed. 



io,t,d=, Google 



THE APPRENTICE. 



tbewl 



r Mat- 



Qfithing of the least, 



Sim. But a tester, Sir. 

Dick. A testerl that's a 

Master Matthew, kl 's see 

Sim. You ha™ had fifteen siipencea now. 

Dick. Never rmnd that Vii pay jou all at 

Di; beneSL 

Sim, I don't douht that, master but mum, 

[Exit. 

Dick. Thus far we ran before the wind. 

An apothecary ! make an apothecary of me ! 

— .. — .what, cramp my genius Over a peatLe and 
mortar, oi mew me up m a ahop, with an alligator 
atuiied, and a beggarly account of empty boxes [ 
~ — lo be culUng simples, and conatantly adding 

to the bills of mortality ! No, no 1 it will be 

mnch bettfiT Id be pasted up in capitals — The part 
(f Romeo by a yo'ang g^ittemaii who never ap- 
peared on any stage bqfore 1 — My ambition firea 

at the thought. But hold, mayn't 1 run some 

chance of feding in my attempt ; — hissed, pelted, 
laughed at.'iiot admitted into the Green-room.— 

That will never do Down, busy devil, down, 

down.— Try it ^ain. Loved by tJie women, en- 
vied by the men, applauded by the pit, clapped by 
ie gallery, admireo by the boxes. — " Dear colonel, 
B not he a charming creature 1" — " My lord, don't 
jou like him of all things 1"—" Makes love 
lite an angel!"— " What an eye he has I"—" Fme 
iefal" — "I'll certiuniy go to his benefit." — Ce- 

leSial sounds! And then I'll get in with all 

thflpidnters, and have mjself put up in every print- 
sho^n the character of Macbeth ! " This is a 
sort' sight." (Slajids in an oiiilurfe.] In the 
oharicter of Richard—" GHve me another horse ; 

bind up my vrounde." This will ilo rarely 

And fen I have a chance of getting well married 

0^ glorious thought! By heaven I will 

enjoy It, though but in fenej. But what 's 

o'dooW— it must be alrooat nine. I'll away at once ; 
this is club-raghl-— 'Egad, I'll go to them tor 
awhile.— "The epouters are all met — little they 
''•'-'- " - "ulown — they'll he aurpriaed to see me. 
b, and then for my assignation with niy 

_ -iuahter poor Charlotte! 

.flied up, but I shall find means to 
rs for her escape; ahe's apretty thea- 
tical geniis.— If she fliea to my arms Eke a hawk 
10 its perch it will be so rare an adventure, and so 

dramatic aninddent. 

Limbs ! d* your office, and support me well | 
Bear me bit to her, then M me If you can. 

[Exit. 

ACT n 

SCENE l.~Discai>ers the Spouting Club. 
The pHEaiDSNT and Membebs seated. 

Pres. Come, we'ilfillamfasure the table round. 
Now good digestion wait on appetite, and health 
on both. Come pve us a speech. 

Salts. Come now, I'll gi'e you a touch of Moc- 

1 Mem. That wil be rare. Come, let 'a have it. 

Scots. What dost lier at, moni I have had 
muckie applause at Edinburgh, when I enacted li 
4e Reegiceede ; and ' ■-'— ' - -*- »^"-'— " 

VOL/I....K 



w r intend lo do Mocbeeth 









Stand out of the way, lada, and aee me 

^VB a touch of Othollo, my dear. {Taites the 
cork, frums it, and blacks his face.] The devil 
burn the corit, it would not do it &at enough. 

1 Mem. Here, here, I'll lendyoua helping hand. 
[Btacks him ; knocking at the door. 

Pres. Open locks, whoever knocka. 
Enter Dick. 

Dick, How now, ye secret, black, and midnight 
haga 1 What is't ye dol How fare the honeat 
partners of my heart 1 What bloody scene has 
RosiHUs now to aati Arrah, my dear comin 
Mackshane, won't yoa put a remembrance on 

Irish. Ow I but is it moching you are 1 Look 
ye, my dear, if you'd be taking me ofl"— don't yon 
call it taking off T— by my shoul, I'd be making 
you take yourself off. What, if you're for being 
■ "" not matter you three skips 



of a flea. 



nee, I hope we 
y good friends; 



for you know two of c 

Dick. What do yon intend to appear in 1 

Irish. Othello, my dear; let me alone; you'll 
see how I'll bodder 'em ; though b^ my ahoul, my- 
self does not know but I'll be frightened when 
every thing is in a hub-bub, and nothing to be 
heati, but "Throw him over:" "Over with 
Mm:" "Ofi;ofi;offthestage:" "Mqmc." Ow! 
but may be the dear craturs in the boiea will be 
lucking at my legs, ow I lo be sure, thedevilbum 
the luck they II give 'em. 

Dick. I shair certainly laugh in the fellow's 
fece. [Aside. 

Scots. Stay till you hear me gi'e a speecimen of 
elocution. 

Dick. What, with that impeiliment. Sir? 

Scots. Impeediment 1 what impeediment 1 I 
do not (eesp, do 11 I do not squeent ; I am well 
leemed, am I notl 

Irish. By my shool, if you go to that, I am as 
well timbered myself as any of them, and atiall 
make a figure in genteel and top comedy. 

Scots. I'll give you a speecimen of Mocbeeth. 

Irish. Make haste then, and I'll begin Othollo. 

Scots. Is this a dagger ^t I see before me, &e. 

Irish, [CallaTing him.] William, be aore you 
prove my lo*e a whore, &:. 

[Another Member comes forward, with hia 

fice pmedered, and a pipe in his hand. 
am thv father's siririt, Hamlet 

Irish, You are my fether's spirit 1 My mo" 
ther was a better man than ever you waa. 

Dick, Pho ! pr'ythee ! you are not fat enough 
for a ghoat. 

Mem. 1 intend to make my first appearance in 
it fiir all that ; only I'm puizled about one thing, I 
want to know, when I come on first, whether I 
should make a bow to the audiencet 

Watch. [Behind the scenes.] Past five o'dock, 
cloudy morning. 

Dick. Heyl past five o'clock; 'sdealh, I anall 
miss my appointment with Charlotte; I have 
stmd too long, and shall lose my proselyte. Gomo, 
let us adjourn. We'll scower the watch ; ooufu 



, Google 



THE APPRENTICE. 



sion to morality ; I wisn the constable were mi 

ried, Huzza 1 huzza! 

Ail. Huiia, Haina 1 \E3xu1 

SCENE Il~A Slreet. 
Enter Dick, milt a laniern and ladder, 

Dick. All 'a quiet here ; thecoaaf 'a clear — now 
for my adventure with Charlotte ; this ladder wiil 
do rarely for the busineaa, though it irould be belr 
ter if it were a ladder of ropes — but hold | have 1 
not seen something like this on the etnge t yes 1 
have, in some of the entertBJnmenls. Ay, I remem- 
ber an apothecary, and here about he dwells — this 
is my IVuater Gargle's ; b^g dark, the beggar's 
shop is ehut; what, hoi apothecary! but soft, 
what Ught breaks through yonder window % It is 
tlie east, and Juliet is the sun; arise, &ii sun, &c. 

Charlotte appears at a vrindmc. 

Char. Who 'a there; my Romeo 1 

Diak. The same, my love, if it not thee displease. 

Char. Hnsh I not so loud ; you'll waken my 
Mhet. 

Did. Alas ! (here is more peril in thine eye 

ChaT. Hay, butpr'ytheenow : I tell you, you'll 
spoi) all. What made yoa stay so long 1 

Dick. Chide not, my fiiir; but let the god of 
lore laugh in thy eyes, and revel iu thy heart. 

Chair. As I am a living soul, you'll ruin every 
thins ; be but quiet, and rll come dawn to you. 

[Going. 

Dick. No, no, not so fast ; Charlotte, let us act 
the eanlen scene first 

Char. A fiddlestick Ibt the garden scene. 

Did. Kay, then. III act Ranger; up 1 go, 
neck or nothing. 

Char. Dearneart, you're enough to liighten a 
body out of one's wita. Dont conie uf ; 1 tell 
you there 's no ocoaaion for the ladder. I have 
aeUled every thing with Simon, and he 's to let 
me through the s£)p, when he opens it. 

Dick. Well, but I tell you I would not give a 
&rthing tor it without the ladder, and so up 1 go ; 
if it was as high as the garret, up I go- 
Enter Simon, at the door, 

Sim. Sir, Sir; Madam, Mndam 

Dick, Prythee be quiet, Simon, I am ascending 
the high top^ltant of my joy. 

Sim. An't please you, masler, my young mis- 
tress may come through the shop; I am going to 
sweep it out, and she may escape that way fast 

ChaT. That will do purely ; and ao do you stay 
where you are, and prepare to receive me. 

[Exit from above. 

Sim, Master, leave (hat there, to save me from 
being respected. 

Dick. With all my heart, Simon. 

Enter Chahlotte. 

Cka/r, O, lad I I'm frightened out of my wits ; 
feel with what a pita-pat action my heart beats. 

Dick. 'Tis an alarm to kne; quick, let me 
snatch thee to thy Romeo'a arms, &c, 

Wateh. [Behind the scenes.] Past sii o'clock, 
and a cloudy morning, 

Diek. Is that the raven's voice I hear 1 

Sim. No, master, it 's the watchman's. 



Char. Dear heart, don't let us etaiiil fooling 
hore, as I live and breathe we shall both be taken; 
do, for heaven's sake, let os make our escape. . 

Dick, Yes, my dear Charlotte, we wiU go to- 

Togetlier to the theatre well go. 

There to thdr ravish'd eyes our skHI we'll show. 

And point new beanties^ — to the pit below. 

[Exit ivith Charlotte, 

Sim. And I (0 sweep my master's shop will go. 

[Exit into the hmise, and shuts Ike door. 

Enter a Watchman. 

Waieh. Past six o'clock, and a cloudy morning 

Hey-day I what 's here ? A ladder at Master 

Gargle's window ! I must alarm the family— Ho! 
Master Gargle ! [Knockn at the dom. 

Gar. [Jftoue.] What '9 the matter % How comes 
this window to be open J Ha ! a ladder ! Who 's 
below there 1 

Wateh, I hope you an't robbed. Master Gargle 1 
As I was going my rounds, I found your window' 

Gvie. I fear, that is some of that young dog 's 
tricks. Take away the ladder; Imftet inquire 
"ito all this. [Exit. 

Re-enler SiHoN'iiAe Send,. 

SSm. Thieves ! murder I thieves I popery ! 

Waicft. What'sthematterwiththefeUow? 
B.-m.. Spare all I have, and lake my life 1 
ITofcft, Any mischief in the house! 
Si™. They broke in with fire and swori ; 
ley'U be here this minute. 
WofeA. What, are there thieves in the homeT 
Sim. With sword and pistol. Sir, 
Watth. How manyare thereof theml 
S!m. Five-and-fort;^. 






WaUh. Nay, then lis time for me to gi 
Enter GAnoLE. 



ffar. Dear heart ! dear heart ! she 's gone, she 's 

]ne!^my daughter, ray daughter! What's 

le fellow in such a fright for ! 

Sim. Down on your knees, down in your 
larrow-bones, down on your marrow-boies, 
GaT. Get up, you fool, get up. Dearleart,rm 
all in a ftrmentaf ion. 

Enitr WiNGATE. 

71. So, friend Gargle,^yon're ap early, I 

see — nothing like rising early — nothing to be got 

lying in bed, like a lubberly felbw — what's 

.__ matter wiii you 1 ha ! ha ! you bok hkc a— 

ir- Oh — no wondor — my daughter, my 



giti? 



1. Your daughter \ what si 



Oar. Oh dear heart ! dear heart I — out of the 

Win. Fallen out of the window!— weh, she was 

AOman, and 'tis no matter — if she 's dead, she 's 

Dvidcd for, — Here, I found tie book — could not 

....»t with it last night. — Here, friend Gargle, 

take the book, and give it thai scoundrel of a fel- 

Gax, Lord, Sir, he's returned to hia tricks. 



, Google 



W^ENB ULJ 



THE APPRENTICE, 
tricks ! — what, — broke 



78- 



Will. Returned to 
loose again 1 

Gar, Ay, and carried oSfmy daughter with him. 
Witi. Camed off your daughter — how did the 
rascal contrive that ? 

Oar. Oh, dear Sir.— the watch alarmed us 
awhile ago, and I found a ladder at the window- 
so I suppose my young Madam made hec escape 
that way. 

Win. ni never see the fellow's face. 
Sim, Secrete ! secrets ! 
Win. What, are you in the secret Menil '< 
Sim. To be sure, there bo BOerals in all fkmi- 
lies — but, for my part, I'll not speak a word pro 
or con, Oil Uiare 'e a peaco, 

JRn. You won't speak, Sirrah !— 11) make 
you speak — do you know nothing of this, 
scull T 

Sim. Who I, Sir! — he came home last night 
ftooi yow house, and went out again directly. 
Win. You Haw him then — 
Sim. Yea, Sir,— saw him lo be sure. Sir- 
made me open tliB shopJoor for him — he stopped 
on the threshold, and painted at one of the clouds, 
and asked me if it was not like an ouzel 1 

Win. like an ouiel — wounds! wliat's an ouzell 
Gar. And the young dog came back 
dead of night, to steal away my daughter. 
Bnler a Pokteh. 

inn. Whoareyou,pray1— whatdoyouwanll 

Pot. Is one Mr. Gargle here " 

Gar. Yes— who wants him 1 

Par. Here 's a letter for you. 

Gar. Let me see it. Oh, dear heart !— [Reads.] 
"To Sir. Garble, at the PesUe and Mortar"— 
sHdikins, this is a letter from that unfortunate 
young fellow. 

Win. Let me see it, Gargle. \Reads. 

•• Til Mr. Gargle. *c. 
*' Most potent, grave, and reverend doctor, my very 
hflHc and approved good masleT,that I hive '"' 
aioay yo«r daughter it is meat tnie, ~ "' 

What ... 
ham done y 

xomoraort— 

had not ieea tMs thing,"— what ran the fellow mean? 
— "/or time may Aaos yet one faled hour to come, 
ahiA, winged mlh liberty, may overtake occasion 
paM." — Overtake occ-ssion psatl — no, no, time and 
tide wail for no man—" I expect redress ftoia thy 
noble son-owi — thine and my poor countrt/'s ever, 

"RWlNGATE," 

Mad as a March hare ! I have done vvith hun— 
let bim slay Ull the shoe pindies, a craok-braned 
Dumscull. 

Pot. Ant please ye, Sir, I fandes the gentle- 
here by the collar, and called me villain, and Md 
me prove hia wife a whore — Lord help him, 1 
never sea'd the gentleman's spouse in my born 
days beibre. 

Car. Ib she with him now 1 

Par. I believe so — there is a likely young wo- 
man with him, all in tears. 

Gar. My daughter, to be sure. 

Par. I feney, master, the gentleman's under 
-I brought it from a spunging-honse. 



"it plly, and ptly 'tis, 'ivi (rue." — 
le of common sense is all this 1 - I 



Par. Yea, Sir, i. 
Win. Let him a 
glad <« it— 



i tliere, let hitu lie Ui 



Oar. Do, my dear Sir, let us step to himl 

Win. No, not I, let him slay there this it 

is to iiave a ^nius — -lial haE — a genius! ha! 
ha ! — a genius is a line thing indeed ^-ha ! ha ! 
[Eri't, 
Gar. Poor man ! he has certainly a fever on 
his spirits — do you step in with me, honest man, 
till I slip on my coat, and then I'll go after th^ 
unfortunate boy. 

Pot. Yes, Sir,- tis in Gray's Inn-lane. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE m.^Sp«.nging HoTise. 

Dior and Baii,ipf at a table, and ChahlOtte 
silling in a disconsolate manner by him. 

Bail. Here 's my service to you, young gentle- 
man — don't be uneasy — the debt is not much — 
why do you look so sad 1 

Dick. Becausecaptivityhasrobbedme of a just 



and dear diversio 


n '^ 


' 


BaU. Never 


ook 


ulky at me— 1 


any body ill— cc 


me. 


t has been ma 



no liquor — come, well have t'other bowl. 

Dkk. I've now not fifty ducats in the world- 
yet still I am in love, and pleased with ruin. 

Bail. What do you say's — you've fifty shillings. 



', thank heave 






BaU. Then there's no credit here. I can tell 
you that— yon must get bail, or go to Newgale^ 
who do you tbink is to jay house-rent fiir yoo? — 
Such pvertj-atiuck devils as you shan't stay in 
my house — you shall go to yuod, I can tell you 
that, [Knocking at the door.] Coming, coming, 
T am coming — I shall lodge you in Newgate, i 
■— y^ before night,- not worth a groat ! — 









quod. " [Exit. 

Dick. Come, clear up, Chariotfe^ never mind 
this— come, now- — let us act the pnsou-scene in 
the Mourning Bride. 

Char. How can you think of acting speeches, 



Die 



such distreE 
■, Nay, but my dear angel — 
Enter Wjngate and GjIhgi.e. 



Come, now we'll practise an attitude — bom many 
f 'em have you 1 

Char, ]jet me see, — one — two — three— and 
len in the fourth act, and then — O gemini, I 

Dick. That vtill do swimmingly — I've a round 
Dien mTSelf— come, now hcgin— you fancy ma 
Bad, and I think the same of you— now mind, 

[ Tkey stand in attitudes. 
Win. Only mind the villain. 
Dick. O thou soft fleeting form of Lindamira ! 
Char. Illusive shade of my beloved kird I 
Dick. She 'ives, she speaks, and we shall still 
be happy I 

Win. You lie, you villain, you shan't be happy, 

[Knocks him down. 

Didf. [On the ground.] Perdition catch your 

Gar. So, my young madam — I have found you 



, Google 



T8 



THE APPRENTICE. 



Win. Siiiah 1 villMii I I'll break every bone 
jout body. [Strikes k 

Dick. PaientE have flinty hearts, no teara i 
move 'era : children mual be wretched. 

Win. Get off the ground, you villain ; get 
the ground. 

EHck. 'Tis a pity there 



liftm 



scene'drawers-lo 
; man — zookers ! 



Wilt. 'Tia ffiighty well, you 
I made my own fortune ; and 
of the Bluo-eoat Hospital, and give him all 1 have. 
Look je here, friend Gargle.-— You know I'm not 
> hard-hearth man— the ecouudrel, you know, 
QaB TObbed roe ; so d'je Bee, I won't hang him, — 
I'll only transport the fellow— and so, Mr. Catoh- 
pole, you may take him to Newgate. 

Oar. Well, bill, tlesr Sir, you know I always 
intended to marrj roy daughter into your family ; 
and if you let the young man be ruined, my mo- 
ney must aJl go into another cbaiinel. 

Win. How's that ■!— into another channel 1 
must not lose the handling o hia money— Why, 
Itold you, friend Gargle. I'm not a hardhearted 
man. Ha ! ha 1 — why, if the blockhead would 
but get as many crabbed phyacal words from 
Hippocr'- ' '"— — '•' ' — *■'' """- 

i and I, but be _ 
good phy^cian. 

ZMcft. And must I leave thee, Juliet 1 

Char. Nay, but, pr'ythee now have done with 
your speeches— you see we are brought to the last 
distress, and so you had better make it up, 

[Apart to Dick. 

Dick. Why, ftr your sake, my dear, I don't 
tare if 1 do. fAp<ir<,]— Sir, you shall find for the 
future, that we'll both endeavour lo give you all 
the satisfection in our power. 

Win. Very well, that 's right. 

Dick. And since we don't go on the stage, "tia 
some comfort that the world's a stage, and all the 
men and women merely players. 
Some play the upper, some the under, parts. 
And most aBsnme what 'a foragn to thdc hearts ; 
Thus life is but a tra^-comicjest. 
And all is falca and mummery at best. [Exeunt. 

EPILOGUE. 

ORIGINALLY 8P0KBM BY Miia CLIVG. 

Enters, reading a Plaij-Biil. 



A paltry, scribbling tool— to leave me out — 

Hell say, perhaps — he thousht I could not s|iaal 

Malice and envy to the last degree ! 

And why 1-1 wrote a farca as well as he ; 

And fairly ventur'd it, without the aid 

Of prtJogue drcss'd in bkck, and tace in masque- 

jMt !— have pity— see how I'm dismay'd ! 
Poor soul ! — this canting stuff will never do. 
Unless, like Bayes. he brings his hangman too. 
But granting tMt from these same obaequiea, 
'^ — -ickings to our bard in blaek arise; 

your applause to joy convert his tear, . 
As Pallas turns to feast— Lordella's bier ; 
Yet 'twould have been a better scheme by half^ 
T' have thrown his weeds aside, and leam'd vnth 

1 could have Khown him, had ha been inclin'd, 
A spouting junto of the female kind. 

There dwells a milliner in yonder row, 
Well dress'd, full voiced, and nobiy built for show, 
Who, whenin rage, she scolds at Sue and Sarah; 
Damn'd, damn'd, dissembler : thinks she 's Madam 

has a daughter loo, that deals in lace, 
I sings — O ponder well— and Chevy Chaca, 
And fein would fill the feir Ophelia's dace. 
And in her cock'd-up hat, and gown c* camlet. 
Presumes on somelhing — touching the Lord 

Hamlet. 
A cousin too she has, with squintinf 
With waddling gait, and voice 

Cries; 

WTio, ftr the stage too short by half a story. 
Acts Lady Towifly— thus— in all her glory. 
And while she 'b Irasersina the scanty room. 
Cries—" Lord, my lord, what can I do at homo V 
In short, there 's dris enough for all the fellowa. 
The ran^ng, whming, atartina, and the jealous. 
The Hotspurs, Romeos, Hamlets, and Othelka. 
Oh I little do those ailly people know 
What dreadful trials actors undet^o. 
Myself, who most in harmony delight. 
Am scolding here from morning until night. 
Then tako advice from me, ye giddy things, 
i''d F 



Study arithmetic, and burn your plays. 
And you, ye girte, let not our tinsel train 
Enchant your eyes, and turn youi madd'tling 

Betjmeljwise'focohl be sureofthis, 
A shop with virtue is the height of bUss. 



; London 



, Google 



JANE SHORE: 



A TRAGEDY, 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY NICHOLAS ROWE. 



REMARKS. 



tt hu lieen obserieil, I! 



DRAMATIS PERSON.^ 



Aa onginall}' acted m 1713 

LoKD Hastinos Mt Boort 

Duke op Clostkr Mr Cibber 

Belhodb Mr MJlt 

Sir HichardRatclitpe, Mr BousnaB. 

Sin, W1U.IAU Catbsbi Mr ifusAiuid 

Shore Mr R,ft, 



COVIKT QARDBN 1811. 

Jfr C AimWe 
JWr Egertm 
Mr CUtrauHit. 
Mr 3Vt*jr 
Mr CresatU. 
Mr Barrymore. 



Loids of tJie Council, &c. 



ACT L 

SCENE I— The Tower. 

Enter the Duke op Glosteh, Sir Rcchsiid Rat- 

OLIPPE, and CatesbY. 

Giis.ThuB far success attends upon oar councils, 
Anil each event has anawer'd to nij wieh ; 
The queen and all her upstart race areqaell'd ; 
Dorset is banish'd, and her brother Rivers, 
Ere this, Ues shorter by the head at Pomfret. 
ThenobleshavB,withj(Hntojneurrenee, nam'dme 
Protpctar of the realm : my brother'a children. 
Young Edward and the litUe York, are lodg'il 
Here, sate within the Tower. How aay you, Sirs, 
Does not this baaneBB wear a lucky face ? 
The sceptre and the golden wrealJi of royalty 
Seem hum' within my reach. 

Strff. Then take W to you. 
And wear them long and worlhity; you are 



The last remaining male of princely York, 
(For Edward's boys, the state esteems not of **Ql,) 
And thereforeon your Bov'relgntyand rule 
The commonweal doeB her dependence make. 
And leans upon your highness' able hand. 

Coles. And yet to-morrow doBBthecotiiidt meet, 
To fii a day for Edward's coronation. 
Who can expound this riddle 1 

Gloa. That can I. 
Those lords are each one my approv'd good frieikil«| 
Of spedal trust and nearness to my Iwsom; 
Anil, howsoever bu^ they may seem. 
And diligent to bustle in the state, 
Their zeal goes on no further than we lead, 
And at ourmdding stays. 

Catea. Yet there is one, 
And he amongst the fi>remost in his power, 
Of whom 1 wish yoar highness were asBai'd. 
For me, perhaps it is my nature's fault, 
I own I doubt of his iiMlining much. 



r, i^.oogle 



78 



JANE SHORE. 



Glos, I guesB the man at whom jour words 
would piint i 
IJastiiigB — ■ 

Cates. The same. 

Glos. He bears me j^st good will, 

Cates. 'Tie true, to you, as to Che lord piotector, 
And Gloator'sduke, he bows with lowly service ; 
But were he bid to cry, God save king Richard, 
Then tell me in what terms he would reply. 
Belie™ me, 1 have prov'd the man, and found him: 
I know he bears a most religious lerarenco 
To hia dead master EdwariTs royal memoryj 
And whither that may lead him, is most plam. 
Yet more — One of that stubborn sort he is, 
Who, if they once grow fond of an opinion, 
They call it honour, honesty, and 6ith, 
And sooner part with lite than let it go, 

Glaa. Antlyetthistongh, imprBClicable heart. 
Is govem'd by a ciainty-finger'd ^r! ; 
Such flaws are found in the most worthy natures ; 
■"A laughing, toying, wheedling, whimpering she. 
Shall make him amble on a aossip's measage, 
And take the distaff with a hand as patient 
As e'er did Herouloa. 

Sir R. The feir Alicia, 
Of noble birth and exquisite of feature, 
Has iield him long a sassal to her beauty. 

Cofcs. I fear, he &ile in his allegiance there ; 
Or my intelligence is false, or else 
The dame h^ been too lavish of her feast, 
And fed him till he loathes. 

Glos. No more, he comes. 

Enter Loan Hastings. 

Lord H. Health, and the happiness of many 

Attend open your grace. 

Glos. My Eood lord chamberlain. 

We're much beholden to your gentle friendship. 
Ziord^ My 1ord,I come an humble suitor to you, 
Qlo3. In right good time. Speak out your plea- 

Lord if. I am to move your highness in behalf 
Of Shore's unhappy wife. 

Ofos. Say you, of Shored 

Lard H- Once a bright star, that held her 
place on high : 
The liist and &ireet of our English dames, 
While royal Edward held the sov'reign rule. 
Now, sunk in grief and pining with despair, 
Her waning term no longer shall incite 

She never sees the sun, but through her tears, 
And wakes to sigh the Uve-long night away. 
Olos. Marry 1 the times ore badly chang d with 

Prom Edward's days to these. Then all was jolUty, 
Feasting and mirth,light wantonness and laughter. 
Piping and playing, minstrelsy and masking, 
"nU life £ed &om us like on idle dream, 
A show of mummery without a meaning. 
My brother, rest and pardon to his soul, 
is gone to his account ; for this his minion, 
The revel-rout is done — But you were spraking. 
Concerning her — 1 have been told, that you 
Are frequent in your lisitation to her. 

Lard H. No fiirther, my good lord, than friendly 

pity 
And tender-hearted charily allow. 

Glm. Go to: I did not mean to chide you for it. 
For, sooth to say^ 1 hold it noble in you 
To cheiiah the distressed. — On with your tale. 



Lord H. Thus it is, graciOQS Sir, that certain 
officers. 
Using the warrant of your mighty name. 
With insolence unjust, and lawless power. 
Have seiz'd upon the lands which late ahe held 
By grant, Iram her great master Edward's bonnty 

Gliis. Somewhat of this, but slightly haie 1 

And though some counsellors of forward zeal. 

Some of most ceremonious sanctity 

And bearded wisdom, often have provok'd 

The hand of justice to fell heawon her: 

Yet still, in kmd compassion 

And tender memory of Edward's love, 

I have withheld the merciless stern taw 



for mercy, 

With open-handed bounty shall repay yoa: 
This gentle deed shall feu-ly ba set foremost. 
To screen the wild escapes of kiwless passion, 

of frailties flesh is heir to. 

. iyplea" 
Our further and more full extent of grace 



Glos. Thus ftr the soica of pity pleaded only : 



Is given to your request. Let her attend, 
And to ourself deliver up her griels. 
She shaU be heard with patience, and each wrong 
At full rfldrese'd. But I have other news, 
Which much import us both; for still my fortunes 
Go band in hand with yours r our catamta foes. 
The qneen'a relations, our new-langled gentry, 
Have fell'n their haughty cresls — that for your 
privacy. [Exeunt. 

SCENE n.—An aparlmeitl in. J«ne SnORE'a 

Enter BELMOUnand Di/mont. 
Bel. How she has Uv'd you have heard my tale 
already; 
The rest your own attendance in her family, 
Where I have found the means this day to plac« 



Enter Jans Shore. 

Or grief besets her hard. Save you, fiiir lady, 
'The blessings ofthe cheerful morn be on you, 
And greet your beauty with its opening sweeta. 
Jane S. My gentle neighbour, your good wishes 
still 
Pursue my hapless fortunes ! ah, goodBelmour! 
How few, like thee, inquire the wrett^ied out, 
And court the offices of soft humanity. 
Like thee, reserve their raiment fiir the nahed. 
Reach out their bread to feed the crying orphan. 
Or mil their pitying tears with those that weep. 
Thy praise deserves a belter ton£^e than m"~ 
■''-ipeokandbliasthynp — T-.K,..v=™n.i 



. this the gentiemaB. 
friondly"ae 
Bel. Madam, it is. 

Jane S A venerable aspect! [Aside. 

Age sits with decent grace upon his visage. 
And worthily becomes his alver locks ; 
He wears the marks of many years well spent, 
Of virtue, truth well tried, and wise eipenence; 
A friend like this would suit my sorrows well. 
Fortune, I fear me. Sir, baa meant you ill, 

[To DUMONT 

Who pays your merit with that scanty pitlanee, 



„Googlc 



JANE SHORE. 



W hich mj poor hand and humble roof can give. 
But to supply those golden I'anlages, 
Whichielaewmere YOU misht find, expect to meet 
Ajust regard and value lor your north, 
The welcome of a friend, ancl the free partnership 
Of all that little good the world allows me. 

Diim. You ove>rate me much ; anil all my an- 

Miist be my future truth ; let that speak for me, 
And make up my desetvina. 

Jane S. Are jou of Ensland 1 

Dum. No, gracious lady, Flanders claims my 




-.^ —1 my stains ai 

You Iinew perhaps— O. srief ! O, ahame ! 
hind 

it stay this Ilooil of 



Dam. 1 knew him 



3t your pious sorrowi 



The senseless grave feel 

Three years and more a , , 

With many of our common friends, to wail him 
To his last peaceful mansion, I attended, 
Sprinbled his day-cold corse with holy drops. 
According; to our church's rev'rend rite, 
And eawTiim laid, in hallo w'll ground, to rest. 
JaneS. Oh,Uiatmj80ul hadkngwnnojoybut 

That I had liv'd within his guiltless arms, 
And dying slept in innocence beside him ! 
But now Sis honest dust ahhois the fellowship, 



Sent. The lady Aliaa 
AttPJids your leisure. 

Jane S. Say, 1 wish to see her. 

[Exit Sfrvant. 
Please, gentle Sir, one moment to retire, 
I'll wait you on the instant, and inform you 
Of each unhappy circumstance, in which 
Your friendly aid and counsel much may 

■^ELH0URO«ij 



[E^e 



d 0UMONT. 



Enter A 



Alio. 



ill, my fair friend, still shall I find you 



thus' 



Still shall these aghs heave after one another. 
These trickling drops chase one another still. 
As if the poslina messengers of grief 
Could overtake Uie hours fled fer away. 
And make old time come t^ck 1 

Jane S. No, my Alida, 
Heaven and his saints he witness to my thoughts, 
There is no hour of all my life o'er-past. 
That I could wish should take its turn asain. 

AUc. And yet some of those days my tnend has 



Whose beauty is 01 - „ -o , e-- 

Our reasons lo rebel, and power to reian ; 
What could we more than to behold a monar< 
Lovely, renown'd, a conqueror, and young, 
Bound in our chains, and sighing at our feet ' 



The goodly pride of all our English youth ; 
He was the very joy of all that saw him, 
Form'd to deliEnt, to (ove, and to persuade. 
But what had! to do with kings and couits'? 
My humble lot had cast me far beneath him; 
And that he was (he first of all mankind, 
The bravest, and most lovely, was my curse. 
Alic. Sure something more than fortune join 'd 

Nor could his greatness, and his gracious form. 
Be elsewhere match'd so well, as lo the sweetness 
And beauty of my friend. 

Jane S. Name him no more ; 
He was the bane and ruin of my peace. 
Thisanguish,and these tears J hesearelbo legacies 
His fatal love has left me. Thou wilt see me, 
Believe me, my Alida, thou wilt see me, 
Ere yet a few short days pass o'er my hwid, 
Ahandon'd to the very utmost wretehe<lDess. 
The hand of power has seiz'd almost the whole 
Of what was left for needy life's support ; 
Shortly thou wilt behold me poor, anil kneellnir 
Before thv charitable door ft- ' — -' 

Alio. 



Litt up thy eyes, and let them shine oi 
Bright as the mornine sua above the mist. 
Eiert thy charms, sedt out the stern protector, 
And sooth his savage temper with thy beauty ; 
Spile of his deadly, unrelenting, nature, 
Ele shall be mov'd lo nily, and redress thee. 

Jane S Myform,alas! has long forgot to please: 
The scene of beauty and delight is ehang'd; 
No roses bloomupon my fading cheek. 
Nor laughing graces wanton in my eyes ; 
But haggard grief, lean-looking, sallow care, 
And pining discontent, a rueful train. 
Dwell on my brow, all hideous and forlorn. 
One only shadow of a hops is left me; 
The noble minded Hastings, of his goodness, 
Has kindly underta'en to M my advocate. 
And move my humble anil to angry Gloster. 

Alic, Does Hastings undertake to plead your 

But wherefoie should he not 1 Hastings has cyos : 
The penile lord has a right tender heart, 
Melting and easy, yielding to impression, 
" -\ catching the soft flame from each new beauty ; 
yot:rs shall charm him long. 
iTie & Away, you flatterer! 
Nor charge bis gen'rous meaning with a weakness 
Which his great soul and virtue must disdain. 
Tooniuchofiove thy hapless ftiend has ptov'd. 
Too many giddy, fiwlish, hours are gone, ^ 

And in fantastic measures danc'd away: n""""* 
May the remaining few know only friendshi|i 
So thou, my dearest, truest, best, Alicia, 
Vouchsafe to lodge me in Iby gentie heart, 
A partner there, I will give up mankind, 
Forget the transports of increasing passk)n, 
And all the pangs we feel for its decay. 

Mlc. Live \ hve and reign for ever in my bosom : 

{Eiitbr-adng. 

lie and nnritall'd there, possess Ihy own ; 

Ami you, the brightest of the stars above, 

Ye saints, that once were women here below, 

" *tnes9 of the truth, Ihe holy ffiendshiii, 

If 1 not hold her nearer to my soul. 



ic,i,d=,*^.oogle 



JANE SHORE. 



Than urery other joy the world cangive, 
Lei poverty, deformily, and slmme, 
Dietiac^on and despair, seize me on caith. 
Let not my faithlcsa shost havo peace hereaitei, 
Kor laste the bliss o) your celestial fellowship 1 
Jane S. Yes, tliou art true, and only thou art 

Thorefbce, these jewels, once the lavish bounty 
Ottojal Edwards love, I trust Id Ihee; 

[ Giving a Caaket. 
Receive this, all that I can call my own. 
Anil let it rest unknown, and safe wilh thee : 
That, if die slate's injure should oppress roe. 
Strip me of all, and turn me oat a wanderer. 
My wretchedness maySnd relief from thee, 
And shelter &om the storm. 

Alic. Myall is thine; 
One common hazard shall attend us both, 
And holh be fortunate, or boA be wretdied. 
But letth<f fearful, doubting, heart be still; 
The saints and angels have thee in their charge, 
AndallthingsshaUbewell, Think not, the good, 
The gentle, deeds of mercy Ihou Jiast done. 
Shall die forgotten all ; the pool, the pris'ner. 
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow, 
Who daily own the bounty of thy hand. 
Shall cry to heaven, and pull a blessing on thee. 
Even man, the merdlesa insultei, man, 
Man, who rejoices in oureei's weakness. 
Shall pity thee, and with unwonted goodness 
Porgat thy fellings, and record thy praise. 

Jane S. Why shonkl I think that man will do 

What yet be ne'ver did for wretches hke mel 
Mark by what partial justice we are judg'dj 
Such is the fete unhappy women find. 
And such the curse entui'd upon our kind, 
That man, the hiwless libertine may; rove 
Free and unqueation'd through the wilds of love ; 
While woman,-— sense and nature's easy ibol, 
If poor weak woman swerve from virtue's role ] 
If, strongly chann'd, she leave the thorny way, 
Aai in the softer paths of pleasure stray ; 
Ruin ensues, reproach and endless shame. 
And one liilse step entu^ty damns her tame ; 
In vain, with tears the loss she may deplore, 
In vain, look back on what she was before ; 
She sets, like stars that lall, to rise no more. 



SCENE I. — An Aparlmer^ in Jane Shobe'b 

Enter Alicia, peaking to Jane sSkose as 

entering. 
Alic. No further, gentle Mend ; good angels 

And spread their gracious wings about your slum- 

The drowsy night grows on the world, ai 



Care only wakes, and m 

■'""'"""" are discontent. _.^ ._., 

it the wasting of the midnight (a 



With meagre discontented looks they s 

And watch the wasting of the midnight taper. 

Such vigils must t keep, bo wakes my soul, 



Restless and self-tormented ! O, felse Baatinga j 
Thou hast destroyed my peace. 

[Knocking wilhout. 
What noise is that 1 



What visitor is this, who, with bold freedom, 
Breaks in upon the peaceful night and rest. 
With such a rude approach 1 

Enter a Servant. 
iSsm. One from the court, 
Lord Hastings (as I tbinkj demands my lady. 
Alic. Haatmsa ! Be still, my heart, and try te 
meet him 
Withhisownartslwithfahiebood, — Buthecomes- 



1 speaking la a SeT->ant 
termg 

in, and wait alone 



Lard H. Dismiss my t 

Alicia here I Unfortu 
But be it as it may, 

Alie. When humbly^ thus. 
The great descend to visit the afflicted. 
When thus, unmindful of their rest, they coote 
To sooth the sorrows of the midnight mourner, 
Comfort comes with them j hke the golden sur., 
Dispels the sullen shades with her sweet influence. 
And cheers the melancholy house of cam. 

Lord H. 'Tia true, I would not over-rate a 
courtesy. 
Nor let the coldneaa of delay hang on it, 
To nip and blast its favour, like a frost ; 
But rather chose, at this late hour, to come, 
That youiftir friend may know I haveprevaii'd; 
The lord protector lias receiv'd her suit, 
And means to ahow her grace. 

Alie. My friend ! my lord. 

Ijivd H. Yes, lady, yours; none has a righi 

To tax my power ihan you. 
- I want the » ^ 



. , . debtor. 

Lord H. 'Tis well, Madam: 
But I would sffi your fiiend. 

Mic. Oh, thou felae lord ! 
I would W mistreas of my heaving hea 
Stifle this rising rage, and learn from t 
To dress my face in easy, dull, indiiTrence ; 






rthei 






And rush at once upon thee. 

Lordtl. Are you wise! 
Have you the use of reason 1 Do you wake! 
Whatmeansthisraving.this transporting passion? 

AUc. O thou cool traitor ! thou insulting tyrant ! 
Dost thou behold my poor, distracted heart. 
Thus rent with agonizing love and rage, 
And ask me what it means? Art thou not false "i 
Ami not scom'd, forsaken, and abandon'd; 
Left, like acommon wretch, to shame and infamy. 
Given np to be the aport of villain's tongues. 
Of laughing parasites, and lewd hullbonsl 
And aH because my sou! has doated on thee 
With love, with truth, and tenderness unutterable I 

Lord II, Are these the proofs of tenderness and 

These end lees quarrels, discontentB.and jealousies, 
These never-ceasing waiUngs and complainings. 
These furious starts, these whirlwinds of the sod\ 
Which every other momenl^ri^ to madness'? 

Mic. What proof, alas ! have I not given of love 7 
What have I not abandon'd to thy .irms'? 
Have 1 not set at nought my noble birth, 
A spotless feme, and an unblemish'd race, 
The peace of innocence, and pride of virtue! 



r,l^,OOgLC 



I-J 



JANE SHORE. 



81 



My prodigalilj baa ^ven thee all ; 
And now, I've nothing left me to beatow, 
Vou hate the wretchfid bankrupt you have maJo. 
Lord H. Why am I thus pursued from plac 

Kept in the view, and croas'd al every turn 1 
In vain I fly, and, liko a. hunted deer, 
Scud o'er the lawns, and hasten to the covert ; 
Ere t can reach my safety, you o'ectake me 
With the swift malice of^some keen reproach. 
And drive the winged shall deep in my heart. 

Alic. Hither you fly, and here you seek repose 
Spite of the poor deceit, your arts are known, 
Your pious, charitable, midnight visits. 
LordH. If you are wise, and prize your peace 
of mind, 
Vet take the flieiidly counsel of my love; 
Believe rac true, nor listen to your jcabuay. 
Let not that devil, which undoes your sex, 
TliBC cuTseil curioaity, seduce you 
To hunt for naedlesa secrets, which, neglected, 
Shall never hurt your quiet; but, once known, 
Shall sit upon your heart, pinch it with pain, 
And banish the sweet sleep for ever from you. 
Go to — he yet advis'd. — 

AIk. Dost thou in scorn 
Preach patience to my raae, and bid me tamely 
Sit, like a poorcontenled idiot, down. 
Nor dare to think tbou'stwtong'dmel Rain seize 

And swiii perdition overtake thy treachery 
Have I the least remaining cause to doubt 1 
Hast thou endeavoar'd once to hide thy felsehood t 
To hide it might have spoke some Uttle lenJemeas, 
And shown thee half unwilling to undo me: 
But thou disdain'at the weakness of humanity ; 
Thy words, and all thy actions, have confessed it ■ 
Even now thy eyes avow it, now they speak, 
And msolently own the aforious villany. 
Lard H. Well then, Town my heart has broke 

Patient, I bore the piuniul bondage long. 
At length my gen'rous love disdains your tyranny ; 
The tntterness and stings of taunting jealousy, 
Veiatious days, and jarring, joyless nights, 
Have driven him forth to seek some safer shelter. 
Where he may rest his weary wmgs in peace. 
AIk. You triumph I— do! and with gigantic 

Defy impending vengeance. Heaven shall wink ; 
No more his arm shaTl roll the dreadful thunder. 
Nor send his lightnings forth ; no more his justice 
Shall visit the presuming sons of men, 
But perjury like thine, shall dwell in safety. 
Lord ST Whate'ermy fate decrees forme here- 
after, 
Be present lo me now, my better angel ! 
Preserve me from the storm that threatens now, 
And, if I have beyond atonement ainn'd. 
Let any other kind of plague o'ertake me, 
°" T ""cape the fiiry o* ■'---■- - 
Thy prayer it 
proud lord, 
Howe'er then scom'st the weakness of my se 
This feeble hand may find the means to r 



See thy bst breath with indignation go, 
And tread thee sinking to the shades below. 

[Erii, 
Lord H. How fierce a fiend is passion 1 Witli 
what wildness, 
What tyranny untain'd, it reigns in woman I 
Unhappy aei ! whose easy yidding temper 



hate, and as destructive, 
iw — for hare comes one, disclaims 
wranghng train ; of equal elements, 
jarring atom, was she fbrm'd, 
ind joy make up her being. 
Enter Jane Shore. 
Forgive me, fair one, if officious friendship 
Intrudes on your repose, and conies thus late 
To greet you with tlie tidings of success. 
The princely Glostcr has vouclisaf 'd your hearing, 
To-morrow he expects you at the court; 
There plead your cause, with never-iaiUng beauty. 
Speak all your griefs, and find a full redress. 
■Tone S Thus humbly let your lowly servant 

Thus let me how my grateful knee to earth, 
And bless your noble nature for this goodness. 
Lord H, Rise, gentle dame, you wrong my 

Think mc not guilty of a thought so vain, 
To sell my courtesy for thanks like these. 

S. 'Tis true, your bounty is beyond my 



And when it melts before the throne of mercy, 
Mourning and bleeding for my past offences 
My fervent soul sliall breathe one prayer for you 
"" ' heaven will pay yon back, when most yo 



On eagle's wings my rage shall urge her flight 
And hurl thee headlong from thy topmost height ■ 
Then, likethy fate, superior will I sit, 



there, where most 'lis due, to love ; 
Be kindj my gentle mistress, lo my wishes, 
And satisfy my panting heart with beauty. 

r c ™. 1 my JujJ 

. .jy bend thj 
Wherefore these looks of he_ ,.__ 
Why breathes that sigh, my love 1 And where- 
fore &lls 
This trickling shower of tears, to stain thysweet- 

Jane S. If pity dwells within your noble breast, 
(As sure it does,/ oh, speak not lo me thus. 

Lord H. Can I behold thee, and not speak of 
love's 
Even now, thos sadly as thmi stand'sl before me, 
Thus desolate, dejected, and forlorn. 
Thy softness steals upon my yielding senses. 
Till my sonl laints, and sickens with desire ; 
How canst thou give this motion to my heart, 
And bid my tongue be still 1 

Jane S. Cast round your eyes 
Upon the high-born beauties of the court ; 
Behold, like opening roses, where they bloom. 
Sweet to the sense, unsully'd al!; and spotless; 
There choose some worthy partner of your heart, 
To fill your arms and bless your "irtaous bed. 
Nor turn your eyes this way. 

Lcrrd H. Wliat meansthis peevish, this&ntag- 



loBisdo, Google 



83 



JANE SHORE. 



[AOTn. 



?B and thy dimpled smiles f 
WSore hast llTou lost thy wit and sportive mirth 1 
That cheerful heart, which us'd to dance for ever, 
And caat a ray of gladness all around thee t 

Jane S. Yes, [ will own 1 merit the reproach ; 
And for those foolish days of wanton pride, 
My soul is justly humbled to the dust : 
AU tongues, like yoars, are iicens'd to gpbraidme, 
Still to repKit my guilt, and uree my inismy, 
And treat me like that abject Uiing 1 have been. 

ioTdH iMomoreofthisdullEtuff. 'Tistime 
enough 
To whine and mordfy thyself with penance, 
The present moment '' 
Thy lieauty, night, ai 

See, ° [Laying hold of her. 
Pant on thy bosom, sink into thy arms. 
And lose [inyEelf in the luxurious Hood. 
Jone S Forbear, my lord !— here let me rather 
die, [Kneeling. 
And end my sorrows and my shame for ever. 
Lord H. Away with this parveraeness 

Kav if vou strive — 'tis monstrous atlectation I 

Ja-nx S. Retire! I beg yon, leave me 

LirrdU. Thus to coy It! 

With one who knowfl you 
le S, For memv'a se 

__.iH. Unsratel 
Mysi 

Jane S. Abandon me to ruin 

Rather than urge me— 

LordK This vray toyourchamber; 

[PfiUiiig kcT. 
There if you BtruKle 

JaneS. Help, O gracious heaven ! 
Help ! Save me I Help ! [IfiTiL 

Enter Dumont; kf. interposes. 

Dum. My lord 1 tor honour's sake 

Lord H. Hah 1 What act thou 1— Be gone ! 

JhtTO. My duty calls me 
To my attendance on roy mistress here. 

Lard H. Avaunt [ base groom— 
At distance wait, and know thy office better. 

Bum. No, my lord 

The common ties of manhood call me now, 
And bid me thus stand up in the defence 
Of an oppreBs'd, unhappy, helpless, woman. 

Lord H. And dost thou know me, slave 1 

Dum, Yes, thou proud lord 1 
I know thee well ; know thee with each advantage, 
Which wealth, or power, or noble birth, can give 

I know thee too for one wl\o stains those honours, 
And blots a long illustrious line of ancestry, 
By poorly daring thus to wrong a woman. 
Lord II. 'Tb wondrous well ! I see, my aainl- 

like dame, 
You siand provided of your braves and ruffians, 
To man your cause, and bluster in your brothel. 
Oitm. Talie baclc the foul reproach, miman- 

ner'd railei 1 
Nor urge my rage too &r. Jest thou should'st find 
I have as daring spirits in my blood 
As thou or any of thy race e'er boasted ; 
And though no gaudy titles grac'd my birth. 
Yet heaven, that made me honest, made me more 



Than ever ling did, when he made a lord. 
Lord H. insolent villain ! henceforth let this 
leach thee, [Draws and ilrikts hita. 
The distance 'Iwiit a peasant and a prince. 
Dum,. Nay then, my lord. [Drawing, ]\eaTa 

you by this, how well 
n arm reaolv'd can guard its master's life 

[They fight; Dumont disarms LOHO 

a base-born hind ! 



Your life is in my hand, and did not honour, 
The gentleness of blood, and inborn virtue, 

' unworthy I may seem to you,) 

1. .™j 111 iny bosom, I should take the forfeit. 

But wear your sword again ; and know, a lord, . 



Lord H. Curse oi 
ter forti 



y fidling hand ! your bet- 



Has given you 'vantage o'er me ; but perhaps 
Your triumph may be bought with dear repent- 



■i. Alas! what have youdonel Know 
ye the power. 
The mighUness, that waits upon this lord % 
Dum. Fear not, my worthiest mistress ; 'tis a 

Purene, the sacredcounsela of you 
Which urge you on to virtue ; 
Assisting angels shall conduct your steps. 
Bring you to blisa, and crown your days witli pease, 
'- - S. O that my head were laid, my sad 
eyes clos'd, 

And my cold corse wound in my shroud to rest 1 
My paroful hoart will never cease to heal, 
Will never know a moment's peace, till then. 
Dum. Would you be happy, leave this fatal 



Is made the scorner's jest ; where hale, d 
And deadly ruin, wear the masks of beauty. 
And draw deluded fools with shows of pleasure. 
Jane S, Where should I fly, thus helpless and 



Has fbund you out a little peaceful refuge, 
Far from the court and the tumultuous dty. 
Within an andent forest's ample veree, 
There stands a lonely but a hcalthfuld welling, 
Built fbr convenience and the use of life : 
Around it, fallows, meads, and pastures fair, 
A liltie garden, and a Umpid brook. 

No neighbours, but a few poor simple clowns, 
Honest and true, vrith a well-meaning priest: 
No faction, or domestic fury's rage, 
-Did e'er disturb the quiet of that place, 
When the contending nobles shook the land 
With York and Lancaster's disputed sway. 
Tour virtue there may find a safe retreat 
From the insulting powers of wicked greatness. 
Jane S, Can there be so mach happiness in 



like that is all my hi 



.i.= o;*^.OOglC 



JANE SHORE. 



Itante then, and ijiither fetus (alie our flight, 
Ere the clouds gather, end the wintry sky 
Oescenda in stomjs to interctpt our passage. 
Duia. Will you then go 1 You glad my very 

Banish your tears, cast all your cares on me : 
Plenty and ease, and peace of mind, shall wait jou. 
And make yout latter clays of life most happy. 
O lady I but I must not, cannot, tell you, 
How ansioue I have been tor all your Angers, 
And how my heart rejoices at your safety. 
So when the spring renews the flowery iieliJ, 
And warns tlie pregnant nightingale to build, 
She seeks the saieat aheltev of the wood, 
"Where she may trust her little tuneful brcmd ; 
Where no rude swains her shady cell may know, 
No serpents chmb, nor blastinB winds may blow: 
Pond of the chosen place, she views it o'er, 
Sits there, and wanders through the grove no 



ACT III. 
SCEi\E I.— TU 



COUT 



tSnter Alicja, wilk apaper. 
Alic. ThLs paper to the great profec;tor's hand 
With care and secrecy must be convey'J: 
Hia bold ambition now avows its aim, 
To pluck the croivn from Edward's infant brow, 
And fii it on his own. I know he holds 
My faithless Hastings adverse to his hopes, 
And much devoted to the orphan king; 
On that I build: thia paper meets his doubts, 
And marks my hatecl nval as the cause 
Of Hastings' zeal for his cJead 
Ojealo — '■■ ■ - ■ 

Howd 
Andtu 



it known iace, and sicken to behold her. 
Enter Jane Shohe. 

Jane S O my Alicia I 

Alic What new ^ief is this 1 
What unforeseen misfortune has surprised thee, 
That racks thy tender heart thus '! 

Jane S. O Dumont ! 

Alic, Say, what of him 1 

Jane S. That friendly, honest, man. 
Whom Belmour brought of late to my asastance 
On whose kind care, whose diligence anci feith, 
My surest trust was built, this very morn 
Was BMi'd on by the cruel hand of power, 
Forc'd from m^ house, and borne away to prison. 

Alic. To prison, aaicJ you 1 can you guess the 



[She gives the paper to Alicia, ibAb 
opens atid seems to read it, 
Mic. Now for a wile, 
To Bfing my thoughtlesB rival 1o the heart ; ■ 
To blast her 6lal beauties, and cJivide her 
For ever from my peijur'd Hastings' eyes: 
Their fesliions are llie same, it cannot fell. 

[Aside ! pulling out the other paper. 
Jane S. But see, the great protec^tor comes this 

Give me the paper, friend. 

Alic. For love and vengeance ! 

[Aside I she gives her tlie other paper. 



Alic. Lord Hastings 1 ha I 

Jane S Some fitter time must tell thee 
The tale of my hard hap. Upon the present 
Hang all my poor, my last remaining, hopes. 
Within this paper is my suit contairfd ; 
Elere, as the princely Gloster passes fbrth, 
I watt to give it on my humble knees. 



Jane S, [Kneeling.] O ncdile Gloster, turn 
thy gracious eye, 
Incline thy pitying ear to my complaint ; 
A poor, undone, (oraaken, helpless, woman, 
Entreats a little bread (or charity. 
To feed her wants, and saveher life liom perishing. 

Gfaff, Arise, fair dame, and dry your wat'ry 

[Receiving the paper, and raising her. 
Beshrew me, but 'twere pity of his heart 
That could refuse a boon to such a suitress. 
You've got a noble friend to be your advocate; 
A worthy and right gentle lord he is, 
Aa3 to ins trust most true. TJiis pr^ent now 
Some matters of the state detain our leisure ; 
Those once despatch'd, we'll call for jou anon, 
And^veyourgriefsrcdreas. Go to ! be comforted. 
Jane S. Good heavens repay your highness for 
this pity. 
And shower dovtn blessings on your princely 

Come, my Alicia, reach thy friendly arm, 
And help me lo support this feeble frame. 
That, nodding, totters with oppressive wo. 
And sinks beneath its load. 

[Exeunt ijiss. S. and Alic. 
Glas. Now, by my hoUdame I 
Heaw of heart she seems, and sore afflicted. 
But thus it is when rude calamity 
Lays its stronggripe upon these mincing mmions : 
The dainty gewgaw forms dissolve at once, 
And shiver at the shock. What says her paperl 
{Seaming to read. 
Ha I What is this f Come nearer, Ratdiffe I 
Calesby I 






ioA then divine the mc 
[He 






Wonder not, princely Gloater, at the nc, 

This paper bringsyoufrom a friend unknomi ; 
Lord Hastings la inclin'd to call you Master, 
And kneel to Richard ae to England's king! 
"-'' Shore'e beailcking -wife misleads his heart, 

draws his service to king Edvtard's sons ; 
Drive her aieay, you break the charm that holds 

And he, and fdl his poiBers attend on you 

Sir R. 'Tis wonderful I 

Cotes. The means by which it came 
Yet strans^r too ! 

Olos. You saw it given, but now. 

"■'- fl._She could not know the purport. 



ic.i,d=, Google 



JANE SHORE. 



Lac 



Should she presume to prale jf such high mattere 
The mcdiiling harlot, dear ehe should abide it. 
Gates. What hand soe'ei it cornea from, be at 

If meana your highness well- 

G/os. Upon the instant, 
Lord Hastmga will be here ; this morn 1 mean 
To prove him to the qaick; then if he flinch, 
Ko mom but this — away with him at once, 
He must be mine or nothing.— —But he comes 
Draw nearer this way, and obserra me well. 

[ Tliey ickispei 

Enter Loed HASTiNas. 



Andw 






> and CI 



inmg 



The sroom, who lift his sauej hand against me, 
Ere UiK is humbled, and repents his dariug. 
Perhaps, even she may profit by th' eiatnple. 
And teach her beauty not to scorn my power. 

aias. Thisdo,and waitmeerethecoundlsila. 
[Exeunt Rstcliffe and Cstesey 
My lord, you'ro well encountar'd; here has been 
A fair petitioner this morning with us ; 
Believe me, she has won me much to faty her : 
Alas ! her gentle nature was not made 
To bullet with adversity. I teld her 
How worthily her cause you had befriended ; 
How much for your good sake we meant to do. 
That you had spoke, and all things ehoold be well 

LardH. Your highness binds me ever to you; 

Glo3. You know your friendship is most po 

And shares our power. But of this ennugh. 
For we have other matters for your ear. 
The state is out of tune : distracting fears, 
And jealous doubts, jar in our public councils . 
Amidst the wealthy city, murmurs rise. 
Lewd rMlinga, and reproach on those that rule, 
With open scorn of gosarnment ; hence credit. 
And public trnst 'twii;t man and man are broke. 
The colden streams of commerce are withheld, 
Which fed the wants of needy hinda and artiians, 
Whothereforecursethe great, and threat rebeUion 
LordH. Tberesty knaves are over-run mitl 

Ab plenty ever is the nurse of fection ; 
If, m good days, like these, the headstrong herd 
Girow madly wanton end repine, it is 
Because the rdus of power are held loo slack. 
And reverend authonty of late 
Has worn a lace of mercy more than justice. 
Glos. Beshrew my heart 1 but you have well 

The source of these disorders. Who can vmnder 
If rirt and misrule o'orturn the realm, 
When the crown Mts upon a baby brow's 
Plainly to speak, hence comes the gen'ral cry, 
And sum of all complaint : 'twill ne er be well 
With England (thus they talk) while children 

Inrd u. 'Tistrue,the king is young: but what 
of that! 
Wefeelnowant of Edward's riper years. 
While Gloster'a valour and most princely wisdom 
So well support our infant sov'reign'- -' — 
His youths Kiiiii ' - ' -'" - '- 



Ghs. The coundl (much I'm bound to thank 
'em for-t) 
Have plac'd a pageant sceptre in my hand, 
"arren of power, and subject to control; 
com'd by my toes, and useless to my inends. 
)h, worthy lord ! were mine the rule indeed, 
_ think I shoukl not suffer rank oflence 
At large to lord it in the commonweal; 
Nor would the realm be rent by discord thus. 
Thus fear and doubt, betwist disputed titles. 

LordH, Of this I am to leain; as not supposing 
A doubt like this 

Glos. Ay, marry, but there is 

And that of much concern. Have you not heard 
How, on a late occaaon, Doctor Shaw 
Has mov'd the people much about the lawfulness 
Of EdwaM'sissuel By right grave authority 
"'" irning and reUgion, plainly proving, 

ilnrd soon never should be graftea 
Upon a royal stock ; from thence at full 
Discoursing on my brother's former contract 
To iady Elizabeth Lucy, long before 
His joUy match with that same buxom widow. 
The queen he left behind him 

iord H. lU befeU 
Such meddling priests, who kindle up confusion, 
' - I vex the quiet world with thdr vain scruples ! 
heaven, 'tis done in perfect spil« of peace, 

not the king. 

Our royal master, Edward, in concurrence 
With hia estates assembled, well determine 
What course the sov'reign rule should take hence- 

When shall the deadly hate of faction cease, 
When shall our long-diiided land have rest, 
If every peevish, mi^y, malecontenl, 
Shjdi set the senseless rabble in an uproar, 
Flight them with dangers, and perplex thtarbrams 
Eadi day with some fentastic eiddy change 1 

fflos. What if some patriot, for the public good, 
Should vary from your scheane, new-mouM the 
stale 1 

LoTd H. Curse on the innovating hand at- 

emember him,the vinain, righteous heaven, 
Tn thy great day of vengeance I Blast the traitor 
And hia pernicious counsels ; who, for wealth, 
For power, the pride of greatness, or revenge. 
Would plunge fus native land indvil warel 
Glos, You go loo far, my lord. 

LordH. YouT highness pardon 

Have we bo soon foreot those days of ruin. 
When York and Lancaster drew forth that 

battles; 
When, like a matron butcher'd by her sons, 
Our groaning country bled at every vein ; 
When murders, rapes, and massacres, prevail'd ; 
When churches, palaces, and atiea blaz'd ; 
When insolence and barbarism triumph'd. 
And swept away distinction : peasants trod 
Upon the necks of nobles : low were laid 
The reverend crotjer and the holy mitre, 
And desolation cover'd all the land 1 
Who can remember thia, and not, like me, 
Here vow to sheath a dagger in his heart. 
Whose damn'd ambition would renew those 

horrora, 
And set once more that scene of blood before osl 
Glos. How now I BO hot I 
Lord H. So brave, and so resolved, 
Gloe. Is then our friendship of so little moment, 
That you could arm your hand against my Ufel 



o; *^.OOg IC 



JANE SHORE. 



Lord ft. I hope your hi 



ol think 

No, heaven forfenii that e'er your princely person 

ShouU come within the scope of my reaentm€ ' 

Gliis. O noble Hastings ! nay, I must emb: 

B; lioly Paul, you're a rigfit honest man ! 

{Embraces h 
Tiie Hnie is full of danger and distrust, 
And warns us to be warv. Hold me not 
Too apt for jealousy and light surmise, 
If, when I meant to lodge you next my heart, 
I put your trtilh to trial. Keep your loyalty, 



To think m 



thanhoni ^. .., 

rajik me with your friends. 



Lord ff. I am not read, 
Norskill'd and practis'd in the arts of greatness, 
To bindle thas, and give a scope to pas^on. 
The duke is surely noble: but he touch'd me 
Even on the tend'rest point ; the mastar-string 



^ dship's sacred band, 

Beyond myself, I prize my native land : 
On this foundation would 1 build my fame, 
And emulate the Greek and Roman name; 
Think England's peace bought cheaply with my 

And die with pleasure for my country's good. 

[Exit. 



SCENE l— The same. 
Enter Does of GLoaTER, Ratcdipfe, ami 

CiTESBV. 

Glo3. This was the sum of all ; that he would 

No alteration in the present state. 
Marry, at last, the testy ^n^eman 
Was almost mov'd to tad us bold deSance : 
But there I dropp'd the argument, and, changing 
The first design and purport of my speech, 
I praia'd his ^lod aflbction to young Edward, 
And left him to believe my thoughts like his. 
Proceed we then in (his fcromention'd matter, 
As nothing bound or trusting to his friendship. 
Sir B. ill does it thus beM. I could have 

This lord had stood With us. 
His name had been of 'vantage to yout highness. 
And stood our present purpose much in stead. 
Glas. This wayward and perverse declining 



Calet. Ifehehavesuchdominiono'er hisheart, 
And tarn it at her n>ill, you rule her fate ; 
And should, by inferenee and apt deduction, 
Be arbiter ofhis. Is not her bread, 
The very means immediate to her being, 
The bounty of your hand 1 Why does she live, 
Tf not to yield obedienco to your jileasure. 
To apeak, to act, to think, as you comnjand ! 

Sir R. Let her instruct her tongue to bear your 



Teach every grace to smite in your behalf, 
A nd her deluded eyes to gloat for you ; 
His ductile reason will be wound about, 
Be led and turn'd again, say and unsay, 
Receive the yoke, and yield taact obeihence. 
Glos. Your eonnset likes me weit, it shajl be 

fbllow'd. 
She waits without, attending on her suit. 
Go, call her in, and leave us liere alone. 

[Eieufi; Ratclippe and CiTEBBr. 
How poor a thing is he, how worthy scorn. 
Who leaves the guidance of imperial manhood 
To such a paltry piece of stuff as this is 1 
A moppet made of prettiness and pride ; 
That oftener does her giddy fencies change, 
Than glittering dew-drops in the sun decolours — 
Now, shame upon it \ was our reason given 
For such a use; to be thus puif'd about 1 
Sure there is something more than witchcraft in 

them, 
That masters even the wisest of us aU, 

Enter Jane Shore. 
Oh ! );ou are cotne most fitty. We have ponder'd 
On this your grievance : and though some there are, 
Nay, and those great ones too, who would enforce 
The rigour of our power to afflict you, 
' ~ ' '" heavy hand ; yet fear not you : 



We've 






ir favi 



Shall stand between, and shield you from mishap, 
yane iS The blessings of a heart with anguish 
broken 
And rescu'd from despair, attend your highness. 



Who say you meddle in affairs of state: 
That you presume to prattle like a busy-body, 
Give yonr advice, and teach the lords a' the council 
What fits the order of the commonweal. 

Jane S. Oh, that the busy world, at least in this, 
Would take example from a wretch like me 1 
None then would waste their hours in foreign 

thoughts, 
Forget themselves, and what concerns their peace, 
"" . -.. ■ - ^ |[jg abrtrad, 

And wept their sorrows which they found at home. 
Olos. Go to ; I know your power ; and though 



ii be&n your beauty : use it wisely, 
And it may stand your fortunes much m stead, 
Give back your forfeit land with la^ increase, 
And place you high in safety and in honour. 
Nay, 1 could point a way, tiie which pursuii 
You st-" -- --■ - ■---: ■' - ----- - 



je iSt Oh I where or how— can my unwor- 
thy hand 

Become an instrument of good to any'? 
Instruct your lowly slave, and let me fly 
To yieU obedience to your dread command. 
Glos. Why, that 's well said— Thus then— Ob- 
serve me well. 
The state, for many high and potent reasons, 
Deeming my brother Award's eons unfit 
For the imperial weight of England's crown- 
Jane S. Alas I for pity. 



ic.isdo/ Google 



JANE SHORE. 



Glos. Therefore have raaolY'd 
To BBl a^c thcii iinaVBiling inftincy 
And vest the aov-reign rule in abler hands. 
This, though of great importance lo the puhlic, 
HaEtings, tor vety peevishness, ttud spleen, 
Does Btubhornty oppose. 

Jane S Does he 1 Does Hastings 1 

Olos. Ay, Hastings. 

" " latd him ftt the noble in 






just 



For this one action, guard him and distinguish him 
With signal mercies, and with great deliTeral " 
Save him from wrong, adversity, and shame, 

And 






rs flourish round hi 



Glos. How now! 

Jane S. The poor, forsaken, royal little ones ! 
Shall they be left a prey to savage power! 
Can they hfl up their harmless n^s in vain, 
Or cry to heaven for help, and not be heard t 
Impossihle I O gallant, generous, Hastings, 
Go on ; pursue, assart, the sacred eause : 
Stand forth, thou proxy of all-ruling Providence, 
And save the friendless infants from oppression. 
Saints shsll assist thee with prevailing prajers, 
And warring angels combat on thy side, 

Gloa, You^re passing rich in this same heaven, 
ly speech, 
Andspenditatyourpleasure. Nay, but mark me I 
My favour is not bought with wonis like these. 
Go to — you'll teach jour tongue another tale. 

Jane S. No, though the royal Edward baa un- 

He was my king, my gracious master, stilt ; 
He lov'd nie too, though 'twaa a guilty flame ; 
And can 1^0 my heart abhors trie thought I 
Stand by. and see hia children robb'd of right! 

Glos. Dare not, even for thy soul, to thwart me 
further ! 
None of your arts, your feigning^ and your foolery ; 
Your dainty aqueamiah coying it lo me ; 
Go — to your lord, your paramour, be gone! 
Lisp in his ear, hang wanton on hia neck, 
Ajia play your monkey garabola o'er to him. 
You know ray purpose, look that you pursue it, 
And make him yield obedienoB to my will. 
Do it — or wo upon the harlot's head. 

Jane S. Oh that my tongue had every grace of 



Glos. Ha 1 Dost thou brave m 
thou know 
How vile, how very a wretch, my power ca 
theel 



Jilace thee in such abject state, 
I never find thee ; where, repinii 
Tbou ahalt sit down, and gnaw the earth foi 

Groan to the piljiess winds without return ; 
Howl, like the midnight wolf amidst the deae 
And curse thy life, in bitterness and misery ! 

Jane S. Let me be branded f 
Turn'd forth and driven to w 

bond, 
Be friendless and forsaken, seek my bread 
Upon the barren wild and desolate waste. 
Feed on my sighs, and drink my filhng tean 
Ere I consent to teach my lips injustice, 






who has 1 



Glos, 'Tis well— we'll try the temper of youl 
"What, hoa ! Who wails without 1 
Enter RATCLirrE, Citesqy, and AUendana, 
Go, soma of you, and turn this strumpet forth 1 
Spurn her into the street ; there let her perish. 
And rot upon a dunghill. Through the city 
See it proclaim'd, that none, on pain of death. 
Presume to give her comfort, food, or harbour ; 
Who ministers the smailesl comfort, dies. 
Her house, her costly furniture and wealth. 
We seine on, for the profit of the state. 
Away! Be gone 1 

Jane S. Gh, Ihou most righteous Judge 

Humbly behold, I bow mysdf lo thee, 
And own thv justice in this hard decree ; 
No longer, then, my ripe offonces spare, 
But what I merit, let me learn lo bear. 
Yet, since 'tia all my wretchedneaa can give. 
For my past crimes my forfeit hfe receive ; 
W^o pity for my Bufferings here I crave, j 

And only hope forgiveness in the grave. I 
, [Exit Jane ShOhs, guarded by CiTBsST 

and others. 
Glos. So much for this. Your project 's at an end, 
(li Sib Riohabo. 
This idle toy, this hilding, scorns my pwer. 
And sets us all at nought. See that a guard 
Be ready at my i^ll 

Sirlt. The council waits 
Upon yonr highness' leisure. 

Glos. ril attend them. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II.— The Coaneil Chamber. 
The Duke op Bdckinghah, Earl op Debbt, 
Brsnop op Ely, Lorq Hastings, and others, 
disaimered in couniril. "Phe Duke Of Qloster 
enters, and lakes his place at the upper end. 



Upon our sovereign Edward's youthful bi 
Lord H. Some busy, meddling knaves, 'tis said. 



Therefore, I hold it fitang, with 

'T' apptant the order of the eoroi 

So lo approve our duty to the king. 

And stay the babbling of such vain gaiosayars, 

Der. We all attend to know your highness' 
pleasure, [ To Glostek. 

Glos. My lords, a set of worthy men you are, 
Prudent, and just, and careful for the state; 



What punishment your wisdom shall think meet 
T' inflict upon those damnable contrivers, 
Who shall, with poUons, charms, and witching 

Lord 0. So much I hold the king your high- 
ness' debtor. 
So precious are you to the commonweal. 
That I presume, not only lor myself; 
But in behalf of these my noble brotheia, 
To say, whoe'er they be, they merit death. 
Glos. Then judge yourselves, convince yoar 
eyes of truth ; 



ic,t,d=, Google 



itn.j 



JANE SHORE. 



Behold my arm, thns blasled, Jrj, and wilher'd, 

[P-uHing up hie sleeves. 
Shcuiik like a. foul abortion, and ckcay'd, 
Like some untimely product of the aeaeona, 
Robb'd of its praperoea ofetrangtli and office. 
This is the soFc^ery uf Edward'a wile, 
Who, in conjunction with that harlot Shore, 
And other like confed'cate, miilnlglit hags, 
By tbice of potent spells, of bloody characters, 
And conjurations horrible to hear, 
Call fiends and spectres from the yawning'deep, 
And set the ministers of hell at work, 
To torture and deajioil me of my lifij. 

Lm-d H. If they have done this deed 

Qloa. If Ihey have clone it ! 
Talkest thou tome ofils, audacious traitor! 
Thou art that strumpet witch's chief abettor, 
Tbe patron and complottcr of her mischiefs. 
Anil join'd in this contritance for my death. 
Na} start not, lords — What, ho! a guard there, Saal 
Enler Gvards. 



Lord Hastings, I ai 



Be of high treasi 



He shall , _ 

I will not dine iteftiro his head be brouaht 
Ratclifle, stay thou, and see that it be doti< 
Tbe rest, that love me, rise and Mow me. 

{ExeuiU Glostee and Lords, 
Lord Hasi'iNGs, Sir Richard iUTCUiFpe, and 
Guards, Temain. 
LordH. What land no more but (his— How! 
to the scafibld ! 
Oh, gentle Ralcliffe ! tell me, do I hold (bee 'i 
Or, iTl dream, what shall I do to wake, 
To break, to struggle, through this dread confu- 

For surely ileath itself is not so painful 
As is this sudden horror and surprise. 

Sir R. Yon heard the duke's commands lo mo 

Therefore, my lord, address you to your shrift. 
With all good speed you may. Summon your 

And be yours^i'for you must die this instant. 
Lord a. Yes, Ratdifle, I will take thy friendly 
counsel, 
And die as a man should ; 'tts somewhat hard. 
To call my scatcer'd spirits homo at once : 
But since what must be, must be — let necessity 
Supply the place of time and preparation. 
And arm me for the blow. 'Tis but to die, 
'Tis but to Tenture on the common hazard, 
Which many a lime in battle I liave run; 
'Tia but to close m-y eyes and shut out daylight, 
To view no more the wicked ways of men, 
No longer to behold the tyrant Gloster, 
And bea weepine witness of the woes. 
The desolation, s^ghter, and calandties, 
Which he shall biing on this unhappy land. 
Enter Alicia. 
Aliti. Stand off, and let me pass— I will, I must, 
Catch him once more in these de^>airing arms, 
And hold him to my heart. — O, Hastings I Hast- 

Lord H. Alas ! why corn's! thou at tliis dread- 
ful moment. 
To lill me with new terrors, new distractions ; 
Tj turn me wild with thy distemper'd rase. 
And shook the peace of my departing soul 'i 
Away; I pr'ythee, leaw me i 



Jiic. Stop a minute— — 
Till ray full griefs find passage, O, the tyrant 1 
Perdition fail on Glosler^s head and mine. 

Lord H. What means thy frantic grieH 

Alic. I cannot speak 

But 1 have murdered thee,— Oh, I could tell thee i 

Lard H. Speak, and give ease to thy conflict- 
ing paSMon ! 
Be quick, nor keep me longer m suspense. 
Time presses, and a thousand crowding thoughts 
Break in at once ! this way and that they snatch. 
They tear my iiurricd soul. — All claim attention. 
Anil yet not one is heard. Oh ! speak, and leave 

would employ an age, 

, _ . time to get it donem. 

Alic. That, that 's my grief— tis I that urge 
thee on. 
Thus hunt thee to the toil, sweep thee from earth. 
And drive thee down this precipice of&te. 
LordH. Thyreason is grown wild. Could thy 
weak hand 
Bring on this mighty ruin 1 If it could, 
What have I done so grievous to thy soul. 
So deadly, so beyond flie reach of pardon, 
That nothing but my life can make atonement' 
Alie. Thy cruel scorn hath stung me to tlit 



For 1 liave busir 



And set m 



heart 



m all in flames ; 



^ id mad f fli ^ ^ , 

And writ I know not what— lokl the protector, 
That Shore's detested wife, by wiles, badwontha 
To plot against his greatneas. — He believ'd it, 
(Oh, dire event of my pernidous counsel!) 






m her head, 



.11 on thine. 
Lord H. O, thou inhuman ! Turn thy eyes 

And blast me not with their destructive beams ; 
Why should I curse thee with my dying breath ' 



Alic. Can 



hou, oi 



d Hastings, leave 



I beg thee^I conjure thee, hear me I 
' an agonizing heart, I swear, 
igs Ifcel, by all the sorrows, 
nd despair thy loss shall give me. 
My hate was on my rival bent alone. 
Oh ! had I once divin'd, false as thou art, 
A danger to thy Ufe. I would have died, 
I would have met it for thee. 
Lord H. Now mark t and tremble at heaven's 






jvard: 



wrath and fell revenge 
which never wrong'd thee. 
Behold, the mischirf 611b on thee and me: 
Remorao and heaviness of heart shall wait thee, 
And everlasting anguish be thy. portion. 
For me, the snares of death are wound about me. 
And now, in one poor moment, I am gone. 
Oh I if thou hast ono lender thought remaining, 
Fly to thy closet, fell npon Ihy knees, 
And recommend my parting soul to mercy. 

Alie. Oh ! yet, before I go for ever from thee, 
Turn thee in gentleness and pity to me. 

\KneeUng 
And, in compassion of my strong afSiction, 
Say, ia it possible you can forgive 
The &tal rashness of ung 

For,oh! 'tis certain, if IK 

Beyond my peace, my reason, feme, and life, 
This day of hi 



1, if i mid ni 

?r ^'■uld have known us. 



ic.i,d=, Google 



JANE SHORE. 






lord H. Oh, rise, and let me hush thy atormy 
sorrows. [BaUing hei 

Assuage thy tears, for I will chide no more. 
No more upbraid thee, thou unliappy fair one. 
I see the hand of hesven is arm'd against me, 
And, in mysterious providence, decrees 
To punish me by thy miatalton hand. 
Most righteous doom ! for, oh, while I behold thee 
Thy mronga rise up in terrible array. 
And charge thy rmn on me ; thy feir ferae, 
Thyspotless beauty, innocence, and yoiith, 
Dishonour'di blasted, and belray'd, by me, 

Alie. And does tlw heart relent for my undoing 1 
Oh, Ihat inhuman Gloster eould be raov'd, 
But half so easily as I can pardon ! 

Lord H. Here, then, exchange we mutual fbr- 

So may the guilt of all my broken vows, 
My perjuries to thee, be all forgotten. 
Aa here my sool acquits thee c? my death, 
As here 1 part without one angry thought, 
As here I leave thee mth the softest tenderness, 
Mourning the chance of our disastrous loves, 
And begging heaven to bless and to support thee. 
Sr R. My lord, despatch ; the dokeliaB sent to 

For loitering in my duty 

Lord H. I obey. 

Alic, Insatiate, savage, monsterl la a moment 
So tedious to thy malice % Oh, repay him, 
Thon great Avenger ! Give him blood for hlooii : 
Guilt haunt him ! liends pursue him I lightnings 

blast him! 
That he may know how terrible it is. 
To want that moment he denies thee now. 

Lord II. Thisrage is all invwn, that tearsthy 



Cast every good, and every hope, behind ; 
Detest the works of nature, loathe mankind; 
Like me, with cries distracted Jill the air, 
Tear hor poor bosom, rend her frantic hair, 
And prove the torments of the last despair. 

[Exit 

ACT V. 

SCENE I.—A StTBtt. 

Enter Bei^moub niki Dumont. 

DuiR.. You saw her, then 1 

BA. I met her, as returning 
In solemn penance from the public cross. 
Before her, certain rascal officers, 
Slaves in authority, the knaves of justice, 
Proclaim'd the tyrant Gloster's cruel orders. 
Around her, numberless, the rabble ilow'd, 
Should'rinff each other, crowding, for a view, 
Gafnng and gazing, taunting and reviling | 
Some pitying— but those, alas, how fewf 
The most, such iron hearts we are, and such 
The base barbarity of humankind. 
With insolence and lewd reproach pursu'd her,! 
Hooting and railing, and with vitlanous hands ] 
GathMng the filth from out the common ways, ' 
To hurl upon her head. 



Dvmt. 



rnhumi 



dogs 



To see thee thus, thou know'st no 
Thya( 



(T it wounds 

^nies are added to my own, 
ake the burden more than I can bear. 
Farewell — Good angels visit thy afflictions. 
And bring thee peace and comfort from above. 

\ExU. 
AIk. Oh 1 Blab me to the heart, some pitying 

Now strike me deaJ 

Re-enUt Lokd HisTiuas. 
Lord H. One thing I had forgot 

By our past kives, if they have yet a name; 
By all the hopes of peace here and heraafier ; 
Let not the rancour of thy hate pursue 
The innocence of thy unhappy friend ; 
Thou knovv'st who 'tis i mean ; Oh ! should'st thou 

wrong her. 
Just heaven sl^Il double all thy woes upon thee, 
And make 'em know no end— Remember this, 
As the last warning of a dying man. 
Farewell, ibr ever ! 

{The Guards cot™ Hastinqb of. 
Alic. For ever ! Oh, for ever ! 
Oh, who can bear to be a wretch for ever! 
My rival too! his last thoughts hune on her, 
And, as he parted left a blessing for her ; 
Shall she be blest, and I be curst,ibr everl 
Mo ; since her fetal beauty was the cause 
Of all my sutierings, let her share my pains; 
Let her, Ube me, of every joy forlorn. 
Devote the hour when such a wretch was born ; 



How did she bear itl 

Bel. With the gentlest patience 1 
Submissive, sad, and lowly, was her lookj 
A burning taper in her hand she bora. 
And on her shoulders, carelessly confus'd, 
With loose neglect her lovely tresses hung ; 
Upon lier cheek a fidnlish blush was spread ; 
Feeble she seem'd, and sorely smitwith pun. 
While, barefoot as she trod the flinty pavement, 
Her footsteps all along were mark'd with blood ; 
Yet, silent still aha pass'd, and unrepining: 
Her streaming eyes bent ever on the earth, 
Except when, in some bitter pang of sorrow. 
To heaven, she seem'd in fervent leal to raise, 
And beg that mercy man denied her here. 

Dum. When was (his piteous sightl 

Bel. These last two days. 
You know my care was wholly bent on you. 
To find the happy means of your deliverance. 
Which but for featings' death 1 had not gain'd 
During that time, although 1 have not seen her, 
Yet divers trusty messengers I've sent. 
To wdt about, and watch a fit convenience 
To give her some relief, hut all in vain ; 
A churlish guard attends upon her steps, 
Who menace those with death, that bring het 

comfort. 
And drive all succour ftom her. 

Dam, Let 'em threalen ; 
Let proud oppression prove its fiercest malice ; 
So heaven befriend my soul, as.Jiere I vow 
To give her help, and share one fortune with her. 

Bel. Mean you to see her thus in your own 
form? 

Dum. I do, 

BeL And have you thought upon the conse- 
quence 1 

Dam. What is there I should fearl 

Bel. Have you eiamin'd 
Into your inmost heart, and try'd at leisure 
Thesev'ral secret springs that move the passions 
Has mercy fii'd her empire there so sure. 
That wrath and vengeance never may return t 



r,l^,OOgLC 



JANE SHORE. 



Can you resume a husband's name, and bid 
That wakeful dragon, fierce reBentnient, sleep ? 

Dum. O, thou haat set my busy brain at work, 
And now she muetors up & tram of images. 
Which, to preserve my peace, I had cast aside, 
And sunk in deep oblivion — Oh, that form [ 
That angel fece on which my dotage hung ! 
How i have gaz'd upon her, till my sool 
With very eagerness went forth towards her, 
And issa'd at my eyes. — Was there a gem 
Which the sun ripens in the Indian mine, 
Or the rich bosom of the ocean yields ' 
What was there art could make, or wealth could 

Wliich 1 have left nnsought to deck her beauty 1 
What could her king do more t — And yet she fled. 

Bei. Away with that sad fancy 

Ihim. Oh, thatday! 
Tlie thought of it must Uve for ever with me. 
( met her,^elmour, when the royal spoilet 
Bore her in triumph from my widow'd home 1 
Within his chariot, by his side, she sat, 
And listen'd U) his taOi with downward looks, 
''I'ill, sudden as she chanc'd aside to glance, 
Hereyea enconnler'd mine — Oh ! then, my friendl 
Oh I who can paint my grief and her amazement! 
A« at the sbuke of death, twice tum'd she pale ; 
And twice a burning crimson blush'd all o'er her ; 
Then, with a shriek heart-wounding, loud she 

While down her cheekslwo gushing torrents ran 
Fast falling on her hands, which thus she wrung — 
Mov'd at her grief, the tyrant raviaher. 
With courteous action, woo'd her otl to turn; 
Earnest he eeem'd to plead, but bU m <ain ; 
Even to the last she bent her sight tovrards me, 
And folloVd me till I had lost myself 



For, though the king by force possess'd her person. 
Her nnconeentiug heart dwelt srill with you 1 
If all her former woes were not enough, 
Look on her now ; behold her where ske wanders. 
Hunted to death, distress'd on every wde, 
With no one hand to help; and tell me then, 
If ever misery were known Kkeheraf 

Dum. And can she hear it! Can thai delicate 

Endure the beating of a storm so rudel 
Can she, for whom the various seasons chang'd 
To court her appiilile and crown her board, 
For whom the fijreign vintages were pres^d. 
For whom the merchant spread his silken stores, 

Can she 

Entreat for bread, and want the needful raiment 
To wrap her shiv'ring bosom from the weather 1 
When she was mine, no care came ever nigh her ; 
i thought the gentlest breeze that wakes the spring 
Too rough to breathe upon her ; cheerfulness 
Danc'd all the day before her, and at night 
Soft slumbers waiWd on her downy jmIIow.— 
Wow, sad and shelterless, perhaps she Ues, 
Where piercing winds blow sharp, and the chill 



>nher 



withtl 



bed head, 






it is too much. Hence with her past offences, 

They are alon'd at iull. Why stay we then 1 

Oh! let us haste, my friend, and liad her out. 

Bel, Somewhere about thisquarterofthe town, 
I hear the poor abandon'd creature lingers : 
Berguard, though set with strictest watch lokeeo 
Vol, r..,,.M. 8- 



All food and friendship from her, yet permit her 
To wander in the streets, there choose her bed. 
And rest her head on what cold stone she pleases. 
D-am. Here then let us divide ; each in his 



Her f^nling steps, and meet we here toBclher. 



SCENE Il~A Slreel. 
ler Janb Shore, her hair hanging loose on 

her sftouMers, and bare-footed. 
le jS. Yet, yet endure, nor murmiu', O my 



Forar 






ot thy transgressions great and numbc 

Do they not cover thee iUte rising floods. 
And press thee like a weight of waters down ^ 
Wait then with patience, fill the circling hours 
Shall bring the Ijioe of thy appoinled rest, 
And lay thee down in death. 
And hark! methinks the roar, that late pursu'dm 
Sinks like the murmurs of a ^ling wind, 
^.nd softens into silence. Does revenge 



My guard, t 






Ofmy Ali 



in the task of their inhuman office, 
And loiler far behind. Alas! I faint, 
once — this is the door 
-Blessed opportunity ! 
icconr from her goodness, 
e observes me. 

[She knocks at the door 

inter Sehv*nt. 
Is your lady. 

My gentle friend, at home 1 Oh I bring me to her. 
Serv. Hold, mistress, whither would vou 1 

[Pulling her back. 
Do you not know me i. 
I know you well, and know my orders too : 



And will admit no risitor. 

Jane S. But tell her 
Tis 1, her friend, the partner of her heart. 

Wait at the doof and beg, 

■s. Tis all in vain.— 
Go hence, and howl to those that will regard you 
[Sfti^ the door, and e^i 
le S. It was not always thus ; the dme has 

a This nnfriendly door, that bars my passage, 
Flew wide, and almost leap'd from off its hinges, 
ivo me entrance here ; when this good house 
pour'd forth all its dwellers to rec«ve me; 
When my approaches made a little holiday. 
' ' iven fece was dress'd in smiles to meet me : 
ow 'tis otherwise ; and those who bless'd me 
Noweurseme tomylace. Why shouldlwandei, 
Stray further on, lor I can die even here 1 

[She site down at the door, 

lier Altoia in disorder, two Sebvakts 

joUoiBin^. 
^ What wretch art thou, whose misery and 
i on my door; whose hateful whine of wo 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



90 



JANE SHORE. 



Breaks in upon my Borrows, and distracta 
Mj jarring senses with thy becgar's cry 1 

Jaiie S. A'Cty ti«g^, ajiiTa wretch, indeed; 
One driven by strong calamity to seek 
For succours nere ; one perisning for want, 
Whose hunger has not tasted foodlhese three days, 
And humbly asks, for charity's dear sake, 
A draught of water and a little bread. 

Alie. And liost thou come to me, to me, for bread ; 
I know thee not^— Go — hunt for it abroad. 
Where wanton hands upon the earth have scat- 

Eer'd it, 
Or cast it on the waters — Mark the eagle, 
And hungry vulture, where they wind the prey; 
Watch where the ravens of the valley feed, 
And seek thy food with them — -I know thee not. 

Jane S- And yet there was a time, when my 

Has thought unhappy Shore her dearest blessing. 
And mourn'd the Itvo-long day she passed with- 



ilic. Hat say'stdwu"! Let me look upon thee 

'Tis true— T know thee now — A mischief on thee ! 

Thou art that fatal fejr, that cursed she. 

That set my brain a madding. Thou hast rohb'd 

Then hast undone me— Mutiler ! O, my Hast- 

See his pale bloody head shouts glaring by me 1 

Jane S. To thy hand 
I troBted all i ^ve my whole store to thee, 
Nor do I ask it back ; alkiw me but 
The smallest pittance, give me but to eat. 
Lest I fall down and perish here before thee. 

Alic, Nay ! tell not me ! Where is thy king, 
thy Edward, 
Arul a!i thy cringina train of courtiere, 
That bent the knee before thee'? 

Jane S. Oh! for mercy i 

Alic. Mercy ', I know it not— for I am miserable, 
I'H give thee misery, for here she dwells, 
This is her house, where the sun never dawns ; 
The bird of nighl sits screaming o'er the roof. 
Grim spectres weep along the horrW gloom, 
And nought is heard but waiHngs and lamentings. 
Hark! something cracks above I it shakes! it 

totters ! 
And see the nodding ruin fells to crush me I 
'Tis fallen, 'tis hereTl feU it on my brain I— 
het her lake my counsel ; 
Why should'st thou be a wretch 1 Stab, tear thy 

And rid ^lysel f of this detested bang: 
1 wo' not linger long behind thee here. 
A waving flood of bluish fire swells o'er me ; 
And now 'tis out, and I am drown'd in blood. 
Ha I what art thou 1 thou horrrid headless trunk I 
It is my Hastings ! see he wafls me on ! 
Away 1 I go ! I fly ! I follow thee, [Runs of. 

Jane S. A las ! she raves ; her brain, I fear, is 
tum'd ; 
In mercy look upon her, gracious heaven, 
Nor visit her for any wrong to me. 
Sure I am near upon my journey's end ; 
My head tans round, my eyes begin to ftil, 
And dancing shadows swim before my sight. 
Tcan no more,[irtes down.] recMverae, thou cold 



Enter Belmoue. 
Bel. Upon the ground ! 
Thy miseries can never lay thee kiwer. 
Look up, thou poor afficled one ! thou mourner. 
Whom none has comforted ! Where are thy 

The dear companions of Ihy jf^ful days. 
Whose hearts thy warm prosperity made glad, 
Whose arms were taught (o grow like ivy rouiwl 

thee, 
Andbiiid thee to their bosoms? Thus, with thee. 
Thus let us live, and let us die, they said. 



Kow where ai 






Jane S. Ah, Behnonrl where, mdeed i Thej 
stand aloof. 
And view my desolation from afar ! 
And yet thy goodness turns aade to pity me. 
Alas I fhero may be danger ; get thee gone. 
Let me not pull a rain on thy head. 
Leave me to die alone, for I am fallen 



gel. Yet 



e thy drooping head; for I ai 



To chase away despair. Behold I where yonder 
That honest man, that 6ithfiil, brave, Dumont, 
Is hasting to thy aid — 

Jane S. Dumont I Ha ! where 1 

[Raising kereelf, and loddnr about. 
Then heaven has heard my prayer; ilia verj 

Renovfs the springs of life, and cheers my soul. 
Has he then 'scaiTd the snare 1 

Bel. He has; but see 

He comes, unUke to that Dumont you knew. 
For now he wears your better angel's form. 
And comes to visit you with peace and pardon. 
Enter Shore. 

J-nneS. Speak, tellme! Whichishel Anil 
oh ! what would 
This dreadful vision ! See it comes upon me- 
lt is my husband Ah ! [me swoetti. 

Shore, Shefainls! support her! 

Bel. Her weakness could not bear the strong 

But see, she stirs ! And the reluming blood 
Faintly begins lo blush again, and kindle 
Upon her ashy cheek— 

Shore. So— gently raise her—. 

[Rai^ng-Hericp. 

JaneS. Ha! what art thoQl Belmool! 

Bel. How fare you, iady 1 

Jane S. My heart is thrili'd with hfaror- 

Bel. Be of courage— 
Your husband lives ! tis he, my worthiest friend — 

Jane S. Still art thou thevel-^till dost thou 
hover round me 1 
Ob, save me 

Bel. 'Tis 

Jane S I dare not ! 
Oh ! that my eyes could shut him oul Ibc erer — 

Share. Am I so hatefulthen, so deadlytothee, 
Toblsstthy eyes with horror 1 SinceI'm grown 
A bunion to the work!, myself, and the*. 
Would I had ne'er survivM to see thee more. 

Jan£ S. Oh! thou most injur'd— dost thonlive, 

Pan then, ye mountains, on my guitiy dead ; 
Hide me, ye roclis, within your secret caverns ; 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



Bn.] 



JANE SHORE. 



Cast thy black ™il upon my ahame, night! 
And shield mo with thy sahle wing for avar. 

Shore. Why dost thou turn awny f Why 

tremble thus 1 
Why thus induiHe thy fears? and, in deapait, 
Abandon thy distracted soul to horror ? 
Cast every blEick and guilty thought behind thee, 
And let 'em never vex (hy qniet more. 
My arms, my heart, are open to receive thee, 
To bring thee back to Ihy forsaken home, 
With lender joy, with fond forgiving love. 
Let UB haste. 

Now while occasion seems to smile upon ua, 
Forsake this place of shame, and find a sheller. 
Jane S. Whal shall I say to you 1 But I obey- 

Shore. Lean on my arm 

Ja?ie S. Alas ! I'm wondroua laint : 
But that 's not strange, T have not eat these three 
davs. 
Shore, Oh 1 merciless I 

Jane S Oh I 1 am sick at heart ! 

S/iore, Thou murd'rous sorrow ! 
Wo't thouBtill drink her blood, pursue her slilH 
Most she then die 1 O my poor penitent ! 
Speak peace 1o thy sad heart; she iiears me not : 
Grrief masters every sense— 

Enter CiTbbBV, vilh a guaTd. 
Cates. Seize on 'em both, as traitors to the state— 
Bel. What means this violence' 

[Guards lay hold on Shohp and Belmotth. 
Cates. Have we not found you, 
In scorn of the protector's strict command, 
Assisting this base woman, and abetting 
Her infamy 1 

Shore. Infamy on thy head I 
Thou tool of power, thoo pander to authority ! 
I tell thee, knave, thou know'st of none so virtuons, 
And she that bore thee was an Ethiop to her. 
Coles. You'll answer this at full— away with 

pSKore. Is charity grown treason to your courf! 
What honest man would hve beneath such 

rulersl 
i am content that we should die together 

Cates. Convey the men to prison ; hut, for her, 
Leave her to hunt her fortune as she may. 



Jane S. I will not part with him for me I 

)h ! must he die for me 1 
[Following him askets carried of,- she/alls. 

e GTiards. 

her 

._ cold hand, 

s this blow wanting to complete 

Oh ! let me go, ye ministers of terror. 
He shall offend no more, for I will die. 
And yield obedience to your cruel master. 
Tarry a litUe, but a Uttle longer. 
And take ray last breath with you. 

Shore. Oh, my love! 
Why dost thou ni thy dying eyes npoa me, 
With such an earnest, such a piteous, look. 
As if thy heart were full of some sad meaning 



le S Forgive 



— but forgive 



Sach mercy anJ such pa'don as my soul 
Accords to thee, and begs of heaven to show tfiee ; 
May such belall me at my latest hour. 



Bel. There ficd the soul. 
And left her load of misery behind. 
--■■ ■ -yhonrl 

[Ki 
■:s will, and le 



Now execute your tyrant's will, and lead me 
To bonds or cieath, 'tis equally indifierent. 

Bel. Let those, who view thissad example, know 
What fate attends the broken marriage vow; 
' ' ' "' their children, in succeeding times, 

<n vengeance waits upon these crimes. 
When such severe repentance could not save 
From want, from shame, and an untimely grave 
[Th^ curtain descejids slmnly to music 



./Google 



WAYS AND MEANS: 

A OOKESY, 



BY GEORGE COLMAN, Esq. 



REMARKS. 

Thu Play ii an eia]y praduction of Cbe must successful dramatic writer nf Uie >ge who though often sllocked 
by those critical poupers. 

has neutralised Ibeir TODom by ^e universal sanctjotk of his countiy^arid tho superior vigour and brilliancy cfhia 

farces, &c, tbat will never bi3 excelled iu the roain requisites ofdramatic effect and sletling humour. 

The threo-acl comedy before us is well suppoited ihrougliout ;— the whimsicality of air David Diinder, the edbns 
oflhekiveis,tliecuriusityofPeery,lhe wary tnnnin^ of Tiptoe, and the general effect of a clever diBperaion of 
pun and iaughabls siluatiDB, ore (hir claims to fl^nenl repcesentation. 



ATIS PERSONS. 



SinDATtDDtniDEit, Mr. Bannisler.jun. I Roui-JiTEr: 

Rahdou, Mr. Palmer. Qlihk 

SciiUPLR Mr. WiUiamson. 

Old Random, Mr.AMin. Lady Dukder 

Caknes Mr. Barrel. Harriet 

Tiptoe Mr. Jl Fabner. kiTTY 

PaulPeery, Mr. Uiier. I Mns Pekiv 

Passengers, Frenth and English Vi alter BaihlT 'lervantB, &.C 

ScENE.—Panly at Dover, and partly at Sir David Dunder's, near Dc 



Mr 
Mr 


Banmel 
Moss 


Mr! Hei6 
Mr>.Aembh 
Mri PndfOH 
Mrn Lme. 



^nJm'tilijc 



Enter Maa. Peery, 

Mrs. P. Why, Paul I why, husband ! 

Pajii P. Eh! WhftE! [Waking.] 

Mrs. P. For shame ! for shanie, Mr, Peery ! 

The bar-bell has been ringing this half hour ; and 

here yon sleep like the rusty clapper of it ; and 

srircc stir when you are pulled— and when you 



y waddle about a little bit, and then 
.11 you are pulled again. 
Paul P. Pr'ythee, wife, be quiet — You know, 
I was always faniotis for giving satisfaction. 
Mrs. P. Were you ! I wish I could find it 

Paul P. But what 's the matter 1 

Mrs. P. Packets are the matter — diligences 
are the oiattor. Sea and land-cargoes and car- 
riages. Pour sea-sick gentlemen, from Calais ; 
and four ladies just ste^ out of the mail coacii, 
from Canterbury. — The men, I believe, are ma- 
king inquiries for the machine to London. 

Paul P. Are they 1 Then show 'em all iino 



.i.= o;*^.OOglC 



SOGHE II.] 

one room. I pity the poin: gentlemen. — Nothiii 
is BO dreaiiful aa sea sickiieiH — so put 'em a., 
together— and they'll only be sick of one another, 
you know. [Bdl ring 

Enter Waiter. 

fVaS. Two genfJemeii ina poet-chaiee, with 
aervant, from Lonilon, Sir. [Exit Waitei 

Mrs. P. Run, Mr. Peeiy I 

PauiP. Av ay— You take care of the atagi 
toaches, and I t m al n f he post.chaise 
gentry.— Her L wi J hi W lliam ! Show a 
room, here, to th g ntl m n Ih re ! 

[B-rit, baicting. 
Enter Waiteh lovn g n one French and 
three Etmu a P ssen rs / m the Packet. 

Wait. Walk g ntl m n 

Mn. P. Walk in, gontlemen, if 
Welcome to England 1 Welcome to 
tlemen! 

1 Pass, So — just sin o'clock in the morning — 
becalmed at sea — not a wink all nightr— the devil 
take this packet, say I. I'm rumbled, and tum- 
bled, and jumbled—— 

Mrs, P, Till eitremely sorry for it. Sir! — 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



jou pleas. 



F. Pasi 



Non 



it do me gcwt. 






choose any refreshment, S 

F. Pass. Vous avez raieon— i never 
refresh in all my life. 

Mrs. P. i am very glad, indeed. Sir ! 

2 Pass. I'm damned sick. 
Mrc, P. I'm very sorry, 1 assure you, 
F, Prms, Ma foi, maikme have beam 

3 Pass, Get me a glass of brandy—ti tol, lol— 
I feel confounded qualmish, but lol, lol. lol, la — I 
don't like to own a sea-Hicknesa— and— " Britons 
ever rule the waves." 

[Singing, and smothering his. uneasiness, 

F. Pass. Briton rule de vave! I link de vave 
rule you, ma fiii, ha, ha ! 

3 Pass. Right, Mouneeer 1 in the present mae, 
I grant you. Padiet sailing — mere plain water 
agrees best with your folks : but, when there is 
occasion U> mil a little of our British spirit with 
it, why, it 'e always loo much for a French 
atomach, Nowthat'sthe time when an English- 
man never feels quahnish at all. 

Enter Waiter, iJuncing in/our Women. 

jifrs. P. Servant, ladies. 

1 fVom. Lard 1 this inail coach is the worst 
eonveyance in the world. It squeezes four peo- 
^ together, hke two double letters. 

Mrs, P. Disagreeable to be sure. Ma'am ! 

1 Man. And that infernal packet ! 

Mrs. P. Nothingcanbehalfsobad.Sirl 

S Man. But then the cabin— 

JUts. p. Eicept the cabin, your honour 1 

i Worn, And riding backvrard in a coach — 



3*-*, 



anything s> 






F. Pass. Voila la politesse encore ! 

Mrs. P. Beg pardon, ladies and gentlemen. — 
But our house is so full at present, we have but 
^ne room to spare; the cloth is laid in it far break- 
&st, and it will be ready directly — hope you will 



P. Pass, Ah ! c'est drole 1 pmr by pair ! two 
by two! 

[Bxevni Men, handing out the Women. 

Mrs, P. Show 'em into Noah's ark, William, 

d'ye hear? [Bellrings,] Coming! Here, Jolml 

Lewis I coming ! [ Exit. 

SCENE II— A Room in the Inn. 

Enter Paci. Peebt, showing in Random and 
• Scruple. 

Paul P. This waj', youl honours j this way ! 
one step at the door, if you please. 

Rand. Step on. Sir, if you please— pay the 
post-boy, and send in the servant; [Peehy g-o- 
ing,] and, harkye, landlord ! what 's the name of 

Paul P, The Ship, yoarhonour. The oldest 
and best established house in the town, Sir. 

Rand, Very well j then give us a better room, 
and get us some breakfest. 

Paul P. It shall be done, Sir. I suppose, 
gentlemen, you mean to cross to Calais 1 



Rand. No, Sir, but we intend to take your 

ine. We may slay here some days, perhaps. 

Pavl P. Thank your honours ! every thing 
shall be had to your satis&ction ; and as lar as a 
cellar and larder can go, I think I — vastly obligei] 
to your honours 1 Here, Lewis, William, break- 
fiist for two in the Lion, there. {Exit. 

Rand. Well smd, my thorough, clumsy, talka- 
tive innkeeper !— and now, my dear Scruple, after 
our night's journey, welcome to Dover. Hen 



to the i^and of L 
vUdein 



; suppose we should find neither wind 



Rand. Why then we shall be love bound here 
little, that 's all. But, hang it, why an^cipate 
evils 1 If we are to be unlucky, the less we think 
" it the better — confound a!! thinking, say I. 
iSbru, Confound thinking, Mr. Random T I'm 
ire its high time lo thiii— and that very seri- 

Rand. Hey-day! JUorabMng ! "Confound 
thinking, Mr. Random !" Yes, Sir, confound 
thinking :— I'm sore thinking would confound 
us ; and most confoundedly too, Mr. Scruple, at 

Sum. Yet one can't help having one's doubts. 

Rand. Poh ! pr'ythee don't *>ubt at all — 

doubting is mean and mechanical; and never 

entered the head or heart of a gentleman. Why, 

', if you observe from our own daily eiperi- 

I, the people that doubted most were either 

tajlors, or tavern-keepers, or shoemakers ; or 

some such pitifu! puppies — Zounds, man, don't 

be feint-hearted now! we shall never win our&ir 

ladies, at this rate — besides, haven't we all the 

reasonable hopes in the world '! 

Sera. Why we ore sure of their good wishes. 



, Google 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



Rand. Cert^nlv — and aa lo aiij triflins ob- 

Serit. But ma; not those trilling obstacles you 

Rand. Pshaw! doubling a^ainl why yon are 
more of a Mandarin, on a chimney-^ece, than a 
" ' — touching yon but your head 



vieit to a female friend, without impeitinent re- 
lations about 'cm lo give 'em advice — and made, 
1 think, no inconsiderable progress. 

Sent. Granted ; but they were then suddenly 
called home to their father's, the haronet'a, near 
Dover, here : who iiinted, in his letter, at no very 
distant matok for both of *em. 

Rand. never fear, if the girls are averse to 
it; and they, at our parting, like simple damsels 

like true knights errant, premised to rescue them 
from confinoment. But you had more oppor- 
iHuiliea with your flame than I : why did not you 
marry her at once 1 

iSbru, Because 1 loved her. 

Sand, Weil, tliat's some reason loo — yon 
would have made a damned unfashionable figure, 

jSbru, You mistake me;I had too much honour 
to impose on my Harriet's amiable «mplicity, and 
have the utmost detestation for marrying merely 
to make a fortune. In these interested easea, if 
we keep up appearances, alter mainage, the wife 
becomes a dog and incumbrance ; if we throw off 
the mask, me are making a worthy woman, per- 
baps, miserable, who baa afforded the only means 
tit making ber husband easy. 

Ratid, Mighty romantic, truly ! and charming 
policy fm a fellow without a guinea ! 

Sfc™. My piriicy vraa chosen from the pro- 
terh. Random! I thought honesty the liest. I 
confessed ta her my embarrassed circumstances. 

Sand, Charming! 

Sera. Told her T had notJiing to boast of bat 
any femily:; whom my imprudence had disobliged. 

Rand, Excellent! 

Sera. And thua, by candidly acknowledging 
myself anworthy her. afiectiona, i undcaguHlly, 
insured them. 

Raiid. Fugh ! this may do well enough for the 
grave, sen^menlsl, elder sister; but Kitty's the 
girl for my laslo— young, wild, frank, and ready 
to run into my arms, without the trouble of dying 
■or sighiag. Her mind full of tun, her eyes iuB 
■of fire, her head full of novels, and her heart full 
■of love — ay, and her pocket full of money, my 
boy I 

Sera, WeU, we must now find means lo in- 
troduce ourselves to the family ; I dread encoun- 
tering the old folks too ; people in the country, 
liero, BID apt to bo suspicious ; they ask queer 
questions sometimea. 

Rand. Oh ! the mere effiot of their rituation ; 



ir joint lacquey ^ that w 



gaged for the eipedition, to avoii 
wait on us lioth— dreaa us both — and fly on notn 
our errands, like a shuttlecock between two bat- 
tledores 1 

Rand. Yes, or Uke another Atlas, with all out 
world upon his shoulders. Only look at him. 



Tip, Gentlemen, shall I put down the lug 

Sera. Ay, on this tabla 

Tip. [Piilting it doom.] Whew I It 'a enough 
make a man ftliit lo loot at it. 
Rajid, Why, yoa scoundrel, it 's all you have 



to put both our clothes ir 






T<ip. That's the very 
You don't know how Is 
double. 

RoTul, A ahrewd fellow this. He may be of 
use to ns. And now wo have to inquire, pray. 
Sir. what may your name be 1 

Tip, Tiptoe — Tiptoe, gentlemen, at your ser- 

honoara — boneat Tiptoe once stood above the 
world ; but now — all the world atands upon Tip- 



ScTK. And pray, £ 









7^p. A decent young man. Sir— that could 
dress wigs, write a runnina-hand, and preferreJ 
a sober, sleady family. I smved my old master, 
bottled off his wine, copied his papers, and kept 
the key of his cabinet and cellar ; in short, Sir, I 
waa hia prime minister. 

Siyru. How came you to leave him, Sir 1 

Tip. Ruined by jarty, Sir ; — some of his pa- 
pers were missing, and as I kept the key— I— — 

liaTul. Began to be suspected— eh! honest 
Tiptoe 1 

Tip. Why, I cant tell how it waa, Sir; but 
the cabinet was agwnst me — the whole house 
opposed me — and poor Tiptoe, like other great 

Rand. Was turned out, I take it 7 

TV. Oh, fie! no, Sir; I resigned. I then 
Mrly advertised my aWlities — " aants a place — 
con lUTJi hia hand to every thing :" — you, gen- 
tlemen, bid most for me — here I am, and I nope 
you'ti have no cause to complain of my quaUlica- 

Smi. He'll make no bad ambassador for us, 
at least. Random, and now to breakfast, and our 
plan of openitiona. If they fail— ferewell, dear, 
□ear little England ! and yet I am wedded to 

Rand. Like modem husbands to their wivea. 
Scruple: it's almost impossible to be seen in one 
another's company any longer, 

[Exeunt Random and ScHnpLE. 

Tip. Very fine company 1 seem to have got 
into — hired m one instant, by two men, I had not 
heard of three moments ; set out on a journey at 
four in the morning, and it had scarce struck Izve, 
when I began to suspect they were all aiies aruJ 

Enter a French Waiter. 
Well, friend! 



,/ Google 



y.1,.1 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



^, Wail. Serviteur, moBBicur. 

T!p. FrienJ ! oh Lord ! no ! — It 's the enemy. 
— French waili^rs creep into shabby Dover inns, 
like French fbolmen into large London femilies, 
E^nch ibotiaen ' more ahaiae for their employ- 
ers I wlio stiuve their own poor countrymen, ta 
feed a. set of diinny scoundrels, whose looks give 
the lie to their living, and prove their maelec's 
head in much nii^er order than his heart. What, 
Jon come to cany up thti portmantcaUj 1 sup- 
poeel 

F. Wait, Oui, de portmanteau, dat belong 

Tlip. Well, lake it {PuU it on A& shoulder.] 

none of your old tricks of running away. 

F, Wait, Never you frar ; iaissez moi feire. 
'■ O '. de roast oe«f of Old Engknd." 

[Exit, singing. 

Tip. There go all the worldly goods of my 
two poor masters ; and here comes our inquisitive 
puppy of a landlorril. Deace take the fellow ! he 
asked me more quostionn at the bar of Ihe inn, 
than if I had been iiraught te the bar of the Old 
Bailey. 



Enter Peery. 



Paul P. Ah! my honest friend — sweet, honest 
Mr. Tiptoe, your servant ! 

Tip. j^Assrfe.j How did he pick up my name, 

Patd P. I hope the two worthy gentlemen, I 
have shown aliove stairs, have even thing to 
their satiafaclion 1 Though I say it, that should 
not say it, Paul Peery, of the Ship, was ever 
ftiQoas for ^ving Batisftclion. Which of the 
two do you serve, my frieud 1 

Tip, Umpli ! serve ! — why — a— 

Pavl P. His honour in gray 1 or— 

Tip. Ay. 

Pavi P, Or the worthy gentleman in green 1 

Tip. Yes. 

PazdP. UmphJ Two sweet gentlemen, in- 
deed; and happy in one of 'em in a servant. You 
■seem to give douHe the atteKduice of an ordinary 
footman. 

Tip. Why, though I say it, thf^ shouldn't say 
it — Tim Tiptoe was ever fimous for pving satia- 
fection. '[MimiiJiing Peeht. 

Patii P. A close fellow ! Well, I wish 'em 
*nccess vrith all my heart, Mr. Tiptoe. You 
have lived with 'em a long while, f imagine 1 

Tip. Why, i have lived with 'em long enough, 
for (hat mailer Mr. Poery. 

Pa-al P. They are irf property, no doubtl 

Tip. Of such property, Maai™ Peery — it'sim- 
poBsihle to describe it ! 

Paid P. Indeed ! and where may their pro- 
perty lie at this time t 

Tip. 1 hefieve idl thrar property lies on the sea 
coast, at this time. 

Pavl P. Oh, ohi the sea ooast! What, in 
^ps, I imagine ! 

Tip. Yesiit'stdlin theship. 

Paul P. So, so! merchanlsi tich rogues, I'll 
Jay my HfeJJstde.] Ah! warm, warm! Good 
men, Mr. Tjptoe, trHsted by every body, I war- 



7>. Trusted fi 



■ great nbUe td 



room suits their honours 1 I should be sorry lo 
give any offence, I have given 'em a room I give 
to the best of company. 

Tip. Oh, excellent ! make no apologies : your 
room is as good as your company, Master Peery. 

Rarvd. riraftimi.J Damn your house ! — Here! 
Tiptoe ! "Tiptoe ! you scoundrel ! 

Tip. Commg directly, Sff. You are right; 

you were always fiimous for giving satis&ction. 

Rand, Tiptoe! 

Paid P. Hark i is it your master 1 

'l\p. Faith, 1 do not know. It's rather his 
honour in gray, or Che worthy gentleman in 
green.— .Good bye, Master Peery. 

Rand, Tiptoe! 

Tip. Coming, Sir. [Exit, 

Paul P. Why, what the devil can these mer- 
chants do at Dover 1 A hit of a smuggling busi- 
ness, perhaps. They must be rich lellows, by 
the servant's being so saacy — and, then they call 
about 'em, and abuse the house so kindly !— Oh ! 
your abusive fellows are the best customers in the 
world ; for none pay so well at an inn aa those 
who arc always damning the vraiters for ill treat- 
ment. [Bar-bell. 
Enter WajTeb. 

Wait. Sit David Dunder, of Dunder Hall, 
Su-, has had business in the town before break- 
fest, and slept in, whilst his horses put to, to go 
hack, [Exit. 

Paid P. Odds my life! a rich man, a good 
naturcd gentleman, and lives but a mile otT: the 
only great man, f know, whose situation never 
keeps me at a great dblance. An odd fellow, 
too; and lakes more money from my house than 
a tax gatherer ; I can never keep a guest for his 
cursed kind invitations.— But he pays well while 
he slays. So, William I wife I hoBller 1 rob down 
the horses, and show up Sir David Dunder. 

Peery returns, attenditigStn David, lalld«gas 
entering. 

Sir D. Pooh,Paul,you'reablookhead— there's 
two of 'em you tell me * 

Paul P. Worth a plum a piece, Sir David. 

^ D. Plums! figs ! — How 's your wife, Paul, 
ehl 

FaulP, She's pretty 

iSij- D. Ee quiet — I know she Is. And so 
these two merchants are aa rich as 

Pavl P. Any thing, your honour. 

Sir D. Damned good simile— very new too. 
Have they taken care of the horses 'i 

Paul P. They're going to 

Sir D. Be quiet — I Know it— Merchants ! 
hazard ! Vessels are lottery tickets — two blank* 

Paul P. Right, yonr honour ; and the sea 

Sir D. [s the worst wheel in the world for 
'em, Paul ; for when once they stick at the bot- 
tom. I would not give a farthing for the chance 
of their coming up. Where do they eome from ? 

Paul P. London — London merchants ; and 
they 

Sir D. I know it, you blockhead— are respect 
ed all over Ihe world. London merchants, Paul, 
are like London porter; a little heavy or so, some- 
times ; hut stout, BtifK heady, old hc^htadl, that 
keep up the vigour of a strong English constilth 
lion. Where are they going 1 



ic,t,d=, Google 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



[AO 



H lor any ir 
Uf D. You 



int ^ve it me. Toll 'em I wish 
5 introduced, d'ye hear^ Sir David Dunder, 
Dnnder Hall — you know the form — Bart. ; bloody 
hand, all that wishea to Who have wb 

Paul P. The very men, Sir David; « 



cursed invitations. 

lir D. [Looking oul 

1 for merchants. 
They may be clever fellows, t 
tlie younger the better ; and a 
indeed, when hie enemies can 
his youth in hia teeth. 



T R^NM 



( and Si 



Rand. Nay, prithee. Scruple, one turn c 
quay, and— who ig he 1 Egad, the aame queer 
fellow we observed Just now under the 



« coachman. 



Sfi,. 



Sent. I^ht, giving orders 

Sir D. Gflutlemen, your eeivani. 

poih. Sir, your very obedient 1 

Sir D, My landlord telle me— honf 
here~Yoci'™jnat left London. Goodji 
hope. Our town of Dover is but an odd, whim- 
sical, sort of a — eh! — and, after the city, you thint 
it a dauined iJirtyi "iingy. ItiniJ of i ' " 

ScTu. Why, Sir, at present, n 
are tired of the enchange. 

S^T D. The exchange '. O, oh 1 Paul's right— 
Msicfe,] I know it — The Exahange, as you say, 
■- -n jour situation, is much pleasanter. 

Rand. The devil he has I And how should Ite 
know any thing of — 1 

Sir D. Nay, don't be angry ; no harm : mere 
inuendo — didn't tell plump — talked of your deal- 



I the scoundrel has not 

Sir D. Must be rich — damned crusty, [jlside,] 

■You're right, though can't be too cautious. I 
would not wish to pry. Mean nothing but re- 
spect, upon my aouL How many clerks do you 
teepf 

Both. Clerks! 

Sir D. Can't do without them, you know. 
Fine folks though, all you, eh T Props of the 

Siblio— -bulwarks of Britain. Always hrnught 
rward as an example to the world. Been in 
the stocks lately, gentlemen 1 
Ssru. Hell, and the devil I 
Sir D That'srighE.don'ttell. Ilikeyouthe 

better. You see what I know of you, and 

Rand. Sir, wa suspect what you imagine— 

iSir D. I know It. You wonder to see me so 
devilish distant, I hve but a mile off— Lady 
Dunder — a sweet, fine, fat woman — my wife, by 
iJie bye — ^will be happy to entertain gentlemen 

Rana. How ! Lady Dunder your wile % 
.■^ru. Is I «dy P'lnder your wife. Sir 1 

\lloth in kasle. 



Sir D. Hey ! my wife 1 my wife 1 Why, yes, I 
think so. She is not youis, is she 'i 

ScTu, Oh ! youll pardon us. Sir -, only we have 
heard the name of Sir David Dunder, in this 
country, before. 

Sir D. Like enough ; the Dunders are prettf 
well known, I believe, every where. 

Rand. Certainly ; indeed, you were the last 
person in our mouths, Sir David, 

Sir D. Pop'd in apropos, eh ! Never knew it 
otherwise. Just like Simon Spungy, our curate; 
never knocks but at dinner, and always comes in 
with the doth. But we are notorious for hospi- 



famiiy way, you know,— ^ir David, that 's 
Lady and two misses — two fine young women, 
upon my soul, as any in Kenln— tall as hop-poleo 
—will be happy to— eh 1 

iSs-u. Sir, you're particularly kind ; but 

Rand. We'll attend you with Measure, Sir 
David I 

Sir D. WiU you t that 's right. II 's close by ; 
quite convenient. And if necessity obliges you 
ne to die coast here — why, 'tis but a mile. — 
n my uower. I know your business, and 
have the horses dirfcily. We shall be at 
time enough for a late breaktasl. Here — 
eh! Ill step to coachy myself; but don't, don't 
abuse honest Paul — meant no harm, upon my 
soul — mere inuendo — a slight sketch, but no pro- 
fession specified, Paul Is like other innkeepers, 
blunders and talks: a damned deal of the bnlt and 
mouth about him ; but no more meaning than a 
iplit crow, or a spread eagle, egad ! {Exit. 

Rand. GHve me your hand, my boy! the day's 
)ur own ; the luckiest hit in the world ! 

Sera. Do you think so 1 

Rand. Think so! Zonnds, what's the maltor 
withyoul Isn't the very man we have been fo^ 
lowing, the iirst man we have mett Hasn't he 
thrown open his doors to us, when we only hoped 
'■> get in at his window f lan't he our fether-in- 
w that is to be, and hasn't he given us an in- 

Scru. Granted : and what then "i 

Rand. What then 7 Why then, instead of re- 
mnoitring the whob day round his wall wa 
have nothing to do but to wallt n wh k away 
with the girls, and he married immed ately 

Sfc™, And is this to he our return M Ran 

m, ibr Sir David's kindness 1 

Rand. Why, how can you make a b tie than 
by giving such a strong proof of y u a h nC 
'- his family! 

Sora. For shame. Random 1 has It end a oar 

injure a man, whose hospitality has 1 rou ht 
you under his roof! No, no; on reconn tnng 
plan indeed — weak as you may th nk t I should 
prefer going to his wall, as you say la e you 

Rand. Very (ikely ; the weakest alw y go 
there. Remember, however, I scorn a mean ao- 
IS much as any man; but,if a good marriage 
readiest road to the recondhation with our 
fiiends, who can. If they choose, make us easy— I 
see no great injury offered to Sir David, nor his 
Skuuly. 

Sera. Why, in that case, to be sure — 

Rand. Ay, ay, no more of your cases now, 
good doctor ; but follow my prescriptions, 1 en- 
'-'-' you. Besides, my father is expected froir: 
oath of Prance every day. He may arrive 



Jr,,(._.OOgLC 



WAYS AND MEANa 



97 



Enler Tiptoe. 

Tip. The old getitlenHin, Sir, with tlie old 
coacli, Is inquiring for you in (lie court-yard. 

ScTu, O, Sir Daoid! allonsl follow us, Sirrah, 
We haven 't a moment to spare. 
. Rand. That's right, Scruple ! efek close; for 
he Bcems so whimBioal an old lellow, that he may 
get into hiB carriage, drite off, and fiwget he has 
ever given us an invitation. Come along, Tip- 
toe,' quick, quickjYou scoundrel ! [Exeunt. 

3Tqi. ftuickl Zounda! I'm almost dead. All 
night, bumping down to Dover, an a ragged, raw- 
boned, poef-horse, with a brace of jristols at my 
knees ; and as soon as we arrive, clapt up behind 
a queer, country coach, vrith a. couple of leather 
straps in my hand, to be rattled back again ! Ah, 
Tiptoe ! Tiptoe ! You must get into a sober family 
aMin, Ibcb, My running-hand will be all I hi 
left for it at last: for I " " 
find, in a fortnight. 

ACT 11. 

SCENE I.— A Room in the Skip 



1 proper premmm 

e sti!urity in 



moderate man, to settle t.,.. 
the parties % Why 1, to be 

Roand. And is there i. ., ....^ ^ 

world than your fellows of feshion 1 Your snug 

man of busineas, when he puts Lis name to a note 

always punctual in his payment ; or e!ae wa 

lock him in limbo — safe in flia house of bondaga, 

I, your man of fashion always gets safe in 

™j ;c 1. .. jijy ^^^ j^j^y |j^ 



another hoose ; and if h< 



gets duly elected, and I hi 






solvents. 






Round. Why. I told you 
have no more head than a smooth 

■k. No, but I have a mouth, if you would 



along; but you 



let 



e open it 



shutting il, any tune these ten 



',. Yes, and then you'd shut it 

CI as you do dX my dinners; where 

Qkh-A. What I and hai 
haven't I filled more paronmenls for you, than 
■tomaohs; more skins than bellies; and closed 
many an account before I could close my orifice ; 



r reputatioj 



before I regarded my ow 

you, and roundly too, Mr Roundlee 1 

Raand. Well, well, I always allowed you had 
a good swallow. 

Quirk. Wasn't I, when you were tottering 
friend enough to take out a commission of bank- 
rupMy against yoal and didn't I kindly make 
myself a cruel creditor, and insist upon receivine 
three parts of your eflects 1 

Round. And haven't 1 always acknowledg«l 
my ruin with gratitude ? 

Qmrk. No, nor aay thing else. I have dan- 
gled after half the heirs in town, without an ao- 
finowledgnient ;_ making myself the imaginary 
friend of their imaginary wants, merely to intro- 
duce 'emtoyon^aaanian of honour and secrecy. 
Round. Ay, if required. 

Quir/c. Granted ; it says so in the advertise- 
ment — and did not they come to you, when, if 
it was not for me, they would have been accisn- 
modated at a genteel end of the town! Instead 
of which, I trudeed 'em throDgh the Strand, 
towards the Bar, all winter long, with their booU 
and high collars, for fear of sore throats, to chew 
your touffh chops, in the back parlour. Then 
t ey'^, e&p you on the back, call you by your 
Chriatian name, tell damned lies, and swear you 
were an honest fellow, to make you come down 
wilh the ready. And who was the djsmterested. 



Quirt. Thai's not the case here, you know. 
Round. No, but it's as bad. A pretty wild- 
lose chaoe we have had here ! Rammed into a 
ist chaise, with more expense than speed ; gap- 
g at hops, through a cursed small-beer country, 
id after two youn^lecs, who by this time 1 
take it, have hopped o>er to Calais. That 'b ano- 
ther genteel way of chousing en honest creditor. 

'^'' ' '" '" is edged with English in- 

Cing's-bench, and Knilogne 
_... ..^„.jhaisea. A parcel of prodi- 
gal, wobfooted, spendthriits, come here, and take 
water like ducks, 

Quirk. Yes, but (hey are lame ducks. 
Round. While we, who have hatched 'em Uke 
hens, in the shell of their dissipation, stand duck- 
ing complaints on the shore, without dariun to 
folbw. ^ 

Quir/i. Come, come, accidents will happen 

■hi this accident about, 

,. . - — rr ^1 with your plaguy 

politic pale I a thick Sunmond's-inn skull, only lit 
■ peep through a ralloty. You must b« sendinff 
e your two, fine, St, James' gentlemen. Damm? 
there a more poor rogues, I believe, in that parish 
than in St. Griles' ! all in a gang too ; — knaves of 
clubs every one of them— and thew my two 
youngsters coaxed me over with a pretty refresh- 
ng story of friends in the country, and rich old 
atliera with fine crazy constitutions; charming 
ihnrchyard coughs, and pretty touches of the 
■heumatism ; svreet bile, and delightful bad liveia < 
It put one in fine sjarits to hear them talk ; and 
you, you booby, to back it I 

Quirk. Why, I had it from the beat authority. 

However, yomig Random's fother is abroad for 

his health ; and evciy body says in a fine, fair way 

dying; and then you'll bo in a fair way of re- 

■cry. The report is current, my old !ad. 

Round. Yes, and the son got current cash for 

and now he must go abroad too ; with a cnrsed 

isumptivB pocket, I warrant ; and that other 

oily-lonaued fellow, Mr. Somple. 

'^.utrfe Bui why cad me in quMtion 1 Could 
ryouraelf? Didn't they ask yon li> 
; and wer'n't you foolish enough to 
3w onen-heatted t and then when 
you he'd take you to Shooter's Hill 
UiB phaeton— 

Sound. Psha ! no such thing. 
Quirk. And introduce you to Peggy Pattens, 
who said you had fine eyes, if you did not squinl 

and a good walk, if you did not stoop ' 

Round. Hush! 

Quirk, Didn't you chuckle, and whisper he 



dine with ' 
drink and 
Random U 



ing, s ^ ..._ ^ ^ ^ 

notfis which were duo the day they si 
give a draft for the three thousand 7 
Round. Zounds, ii'senough to drive 



off, and 



ic.i.= o;*^.OOglc 



WAYS AND MEANS 



[*c 



to think on't ! You got the warrant backed by 
the Sheriff of CanterSuryl 

Quirk. Yes, by the Sub, and all may be xe- 

Cited at last. Wo have trated 'em truly to this 
aee, and if the tide hasn't served, we may nab 
'em yet Como along, old Round. We'll pump 



SCENE II.— An Apartment in Dunder Hall. 

A Glass Door in the baik scene, jcUh a vUie 

into the GariUns. 
Sir DiTiD, L«dv Duuder, Random, and 
ScaupLE, diswvered at the finish of breakfast. 

Rand. Wo are only mortified. Sir David, aa 
we have not lutd the pleasure of seeing the young 
ladies, that we are deprived of their company at 
breaktast. 

SirD. Pshaw! Nonsense I mustn't mind that 
—t'other cup-;Eh 1 [Tb Random 1 Always the 
case with my girls — Lump o' sugar '—[ Tt Sokd- 

Scra. Not any. 

Ladi/. They ate taking their constant morn- 
ing's round, gentlemen. They always breakfast 
bSore the rest of the fiimily ; and are generalh? 
breathing the air of the shrubbery, while Sir 
David and I are sippina our lea and chocolate, 

SirD. Bequiet: Iltnowit, Picking posies, 
gathering duaes and dafiy-down-dilliea. Pretty 
pastoral girls, though, I assure you; very like 

Lady. Oh, Sir David. 

Sir D. Hush 1 The very picture of my dear 
Lady Dunder. Not so plump, perhaps) but all 
in good time — ^Bit more muffin 1 

Serv,. The young ladies. Sir David, are happy 
in their resemblance of so accomplished a mother, 
r D. Yes; like as three peas. My iariy, in- 



J, has t 



! of them 



w-iiit. 



, lehamng donebTeahfasl, 
Lady. Why people do flatlet, I «onf«s8. None 
of our neighboura but are pretty partial to the 
Dunders. Not an assembly round, but my girls 
are first atOiA out to move m a minuet ; and al- 
wa™ stand the head couples in a country dance. 

Band. We moke no doubt, Madaoi. The 
charms which your ladyship's daughters must in- 



mise you. Q,uite the deligl. 
the tragedy parts too, at my friend thing-era-bob's. 
Harriet got great applause, upon my soul: but 
. Kitty was so cursed comical ! did Desdemona one 
nigitt; gets killed, you know, by a bolster. 

Sura. An agreeable amusement ! Gentlemen's 
play-housca are much to be wished for. 

Sir D. Fine fun, isn't it % We had a touch 
of dramatics once ouraelvas^ at the hall here- 
gutted a kitchen, and filled li with fly-flaps — All 
gentlemen pJayers, you know. 

Rand, A kitchen ! And how dit 
Derforml 

SirD. Players! Pokers! Empty as pots; am 
aa tkt as the dresser. 

Lady. Oh, fie, Sir David ! You know. 



did your players 



fy said his Romeo was charming. 
SirD. Eh! gad, that's true: forgot S 
True, deary ;— fine,— very fine, indeed, for a 



tieman : his figure, to oe sure, wasnt so cleverly 
cut out for the character. A &t fuhsy phiz, sunk 
between a coupleof round shoulders, and, damme, 
he croaked like a toad in a hole. What do you 
say (0 a hop in the garden, eh 1 Look at the lawn t 

Rand. Why, at present. Sir David 

SSr D. I know it— Rather not— That 'a right : 
no nonsense: I hate excuses. Looks like rain : 
cursed cloudy ; and all that. No ceremony here. 

Sera. A little rest after a journey is 

Sir O . Right By the bye, talking of that, 

after a journey, I met with Kit— D'ye know Kit 
Skurryl 

Rand, Never heard of him. 

Scru. Nor I. 

SirD. An odd, harum-scarum, absent, flighty 
fish. Old friend of ear's ; but a damnaJ quiz ; 
got acqudnted in the queerest way in the world. 

Lady. I've heard Sir David mention — — 

Sir D. Be quiet. Coming from Paul's one 
night, where I picked you up in an odd sort of a 
strange style — 

Sera. Why it was rathei^ 

Sir D, Hiah ! Got into my coach — all alone, 
dull as hell, dark as the devil : so, to amuse my- 



._ , my eyes to wake, out of 

one comer, and saw Skurry stuck up in the othot. 
I thougiit coachy had crammed in a corpse. 

Rand. U looked rather suapiinous. 

Sir D. Took him for dead, as 1 hope lo live. 

Rand. How did yon behave ■? 

Sir D. Sat still : frightened out of my wits, till 
I got home ; and John came out with a candle % 

Sera. And how did he eipkin ' 

Sir D. Easy enough. Got drunk upon busi- 
ness ; going to (own ; popped into my carriage for 
the mail-coach, to secure a good place before the 
rest of the passengers ; and as the hostler crossed 
the yard in the dark, bid him shut the door, and 
be cfamned lo him. Made us monstrous merry, 
didn't it, love 1 

Extrpmely. 

iy laughed till i 
lo— Go tothe'fenn, ehl Peep at the pigsl 



Lady. Extrpmely. 

SSr D. Yes, my lady laughed till she was ready 



_ . _ Lard, Sir David, how you Ics 
ti«men to walk, who have scarcely recovered from 
the rattle of the road ; your friends have no relish 
fiir pigs now ; betddes, U 's so late, we shall hardly 
have tune to dress for dinner. 

SirO, Eh ! gad, that 's true. No dinner with- 
out dres^ng.— Wont walk.— Well, do as you 
hke : I leave yon here vrilh my dear Lady Dun- 
der. [I'd Lady D\ Talk to 'em, deary^ do ; 
give 'em a sketch of the county. Some Dover 
scandal, and Canterbury tales quite in your way, 
lovee. She knows all about you. 

Scru, Indeed! 

jSir D. Yes, I told all, just as I had it from 
Paul. Make her prattle lo you, do you hcarl 
Devilish deal of solid sense about her, 1 assnte 

Rand. That we are convinced of 

Sir O. Ill just lake a torn, and abuse my peo- 
ple; see what's ginng on within and without — 
house and garden ; ftrm and fire-side : look at the 
plate anil the pantry; gape at the geese, and the 
ducks, and the does, and the hogs, and the logs. 
Musi go — damn^ sorry; must mind my lillle 
cutter of cabbages ; an idle, eating, cheating dog ; 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



and would sooner be damned than dig. Hi 
no more use in Ihe garden than Adam : for he 
steals evej7 apple he can find, and wont even 
take the pains of grafting a goosebertj bush. 

[Bxil. 

Ssrti. I hope we don't detain your ladysliip 
from walking? 

Lady. B; no means: Sir David's horse-walks 
have given me a dislike to so latiguing an 
dse. I drive round the grounds in a whi 
now and then — or a canter on a ponej— 

Rand. But, While Sir David is at his 
your ladyship has probably your menaBei 
attend. Is your ladyship fond of birds m 



of this garden ia delightfuL 
Ranil. Charming! And this lawn liefiire the 
house here. 

[ WaUcing up to the glass door with ScRnpi.E. 



!, Hah 



ning in vnih a buTidle qffiM 



wing. 



Kitty. Oh! manuna, mamma 1 see what a big 
inmdie of flowers I have got 

Lady. Hush, Kitty — Consider ! 
Kitty. Ehl what, company? O lud ! Two 
Jemmies, I vow. D^o, mamma, introduce ns. 

Lady. For heaven's sake, girl — Gfentlemen, 
give me leave to introduce^—- 

Kitty. La, mamma, you are so round ibout al- 
way*— -I'll go and give 'em one of my best courle- 
aie8.~You'ff see now : I'll do it in half the Irnie-^ 
[The men come from the glass door to the front 
<lf the stage. Kitty goes up lo Rsndom, be- 
gins couriesying, Uiokii in, his face, drops the 
fioaers, and screams.} 
Kitty. Oh( 
Sand. Ha 1 the young lady '5 talcen ill. 

[Running to her. 
Lady. Mercy on mel Why, girl! why, Kitty! 
Whit^ the matter with youl 

[T)iey put her in a. chair. 
Kiity. Nothing, mamma — nothing — but some- 
thing that 

Band. Something that vras in the flowers, 
Madam, I believe) 

Kiity. Yea, yes,— a great 

Rand. A great wasp. I tieard it bra by me, as 
you dropt 'em. 

Kitty. Yea, a vrasp ; it was so. I declare it has 

to flurned me ; seeing what 1 so little expected.^ 

[LoMng at RiNDOM. 

Rand. How do you find yourself now, Ma- 

Jaml A little flurried atiU, I'm afr^d. 

Lady. And I'to be without my smelling-bottle 
too— Eleaa ma, why, Harriet, you gi' 



ScTU. I'll take the tenderest care of her, be as- 
sured. Madam, 

[ISxil SORUPLF. with Hahriet through 
the glass door. 
Rand. If your bdyahip would favour us with 
a httle hartshorn — 

Lady. Lard I that I should be so stupid aa to 

' y salts on the dressing-table. I'll run for 

lyself in a minute. Sit still, Kitty, my 

ai ; a. litlJe of Dalmahoy'a pungent wiU relieve 

la presently, I warrant. [Exit. 

Rand. And now, my dear Kitty! 

Kilty, [Rising.] Huah, hush ! lud ! you have 

frighted m* out of my wita : I have hardly bWath 

to ask you a question. Where did you Come 

fmml Who brought yon here 1 How long do, 

' ' do you go away vrith 1 






Kitty. With mel you might have asked my 
onaent first, 1 think. 

Rand. Nay, nay, we have no time for forms ' 
low. Your mother wiU be back instantly, and 
Be niay want opportunities : your father knows 
LOthing of me nor my friend ; but picked us up at , 

might produce some croEs accident Co make our 
designs known, and defeat our plan. The femily 
retires early, I find ; We shall order a post-coaii 
to (he garden wall at eleven. Now, Kitty, if we 
could but find the outaide of a certain chamber 

Kitty. gemini 1 you must not venture along 
theeallery. You and Mt. Scruple will be at the 
Eirtiier end of it. All the visitors will sleep there. 
Papa and mamma neit to yoo, and Harriet and 
I beyond them, I would not venture out for the 
world. 

Rand. No, but if Scruple and I were (o ven- 

mty. Oh ! it would be to no purpose. We 
shall feve nothing to do vrith it ; you may creep 
alKiutin the dark as much as you pteaae, we won! 
jsist ymi, I promise you.— We Wbn'l^-no — we 
on't even put a chidr on the outside of the door, 
lat you may know our room from the others. 
,Rand. Thanks • thanks! my dear, sweet, 
charming, bewitching, Uttlc — [Embracing her,} 

Enter Lady DunDeh, hastily. 

Lady. Here are the salts. 

Rand, [Changing his tone, but TBilhaut letting 
liTTY go.] That's right. Madam: loan upon me: 
talking about wiU te of infinite service, I am 

Lady. You're vetT good, indeed, Mr. Random. 






it tlie 61 






of the bastle goes round to Hjrhiet,] 

Har. Excuse me, Madam ; but seeing 
so suddenly taken iU^ 

Sera. Has quite affected Miss Harriet 

One turn in the Mr will relieve Ihem. If the day,— —To be alarmed at 

young lady will give me leave to attend her into Kitty. La, mamn 

the garden— Rand. tDertainly 

Lady. You're extremely kind. Sir : go, my love ladyship imagines, 

—Poor, dear, sympathetic j^rll The gentleman Lady. Well, well; you're very good— Bui 
wdl assist you. | ha, ha, ha! Sit David will laugh flnelTOtltut 



re you n, 



Kitty? 



Kilty. Recovered vastly. Much easier sines 

lU left UB, mamma. — [<iuUHng Random,] 

Lady. ,Ay, ay, I knew it would he soon over 

foolish girl, to be in a flutter at such a trifle ! but 

— ■"""" troubled Mr, Random too much 



'i it than your 



„ Google 



100 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



— tttttering in a chair — and — jou won't forget lo 
tell it at dinner, I dare say 

Kitty. Well, I deserve to be laughed at, I see: 
Ibolish enough, to be sure. Come, mamma— 
[ Taking her arm, and looking archly at Ran- 
dom as she goes out.l You won't fcrget the chair, 
[ dare say, Mr. Random. 

[Exeanl Kittv and Lady. 

Sand. So ; (his even exceeds mj warmeat ex~ 
pectations. If Scruple follows Harrietup closely, 
our success is certain : hut he is so shilly ahally. 
Damn it, if Ija lets her reflect we are lost. Wo- 
men were never born for reflecUon ; and when- 
ever Ihey have any, it 's generally used lo turn all 
our schemes topsy tarvy, [Exit. 

SCENE III.— A Garden beloiiging to Dander 



Habb 



Hall. 
T and Sc:hUp:,e. 



Soru. Why. Harriet ! why torture me with 
these needless objections 1 

Hot. Needless I good heavens ! How can 1 ac- 
cept your proposslsl the indelicacy, the conse- 
quences whirii may follow ; the steps, too, your 
friend is taking with my younger sister 

Scru. My fife on't, are gui&id by honour; and 
the emergency, the occaaon, every thing conspires 
in urging uB to take advantage of the moment. 
The scheme I have proposed is 

^ar. In your present situation rash, even (o 
niadnesa : time loo, without so h^ty a proceed- 
ing, may produce droumatances in our ftvour. 
A little delay 

Soru. Willoccaaionjperhaps,anEtemal5epara- 
tion : you know my situation'; knew that, with 

Srudencfi, (a virtue, which, I confess, I have 
itherto n^lected,) it may be essentially altered 
Sir the better: but the anxieties I shaU sufier by 
delay | the engagements, which the commands of 
B &ther may oblige you to subscribe to ; all con- 
vince me, if your regard condnues, you will fa- 
vour my warmest wiahes. This very evening, 

Hit. ImposNble t Press no further, I beseech 
you. The peace of a femily depends on my con- 
duct. Parents have ties on me, Mr. Scruple, 
which ! should shudder lo violate. 

Situ. Absurd ! havenottheyproposedamatch 

Bar. A detested one, I own : but a thousand 
aec^ents may prevent its going forward ; and, 
till I sec the strongest necessity for secuiing my 
own happiness, I dare not risk the happinesB of 
others, so very, very near to me. 

Scru. Still, still, Harriet, this delay \ why \aks 
pleasure in tormenting me 1 

Bar. It is not in my nature : bred up in the 
country, I have imbibed notions, which the re- 
finement of a town education might term roman- 
tic ; for I have preferred happiness to splendour ; 
□or have I blosAod to own to you, the aflections 
of an honest, generous mind, have much more 
weight with me than the allurements of pomp and 
fortune ; apprised of these sentimenls, tempt me 
no more, I beg. Sir; nor strive lo take advantage 
of a partiality, which would be ill-placed on one 
who would recommend to me so inconsiderate a 
l/ehaviour. [ Warmly. 

Scrv,. Coriftision I But 1 amloblame,Madam; 
I have relied too much on that partiality, which i 
it the slightest obstacles. 



I have offended ; I shall aoon qmt a boona, 
Madam, where I find mv preselice b disagree- 
able— [Gomg. 
Bar. Unkind 1 angeiierous man I you, too, who 
read my heart ; who see its tenderness, and what 
this struggle costs me : but prudence urges your 
departure; go then ; I cannot, dare not, follow 
you : my actions aru not at my disposal. Ah ! if 
they were, I'd aikare nty fortunes with you lo b« 
happy. 

Scrit. Dear, sweet simpUcity I O, Harriet, fbr- 
^ ve my petulance; paiilon a passion, whose 
warmth consumes ail bonds. Yea, yes, I will be 
-udenC for your sake, Harriet ; and yet I must 
)t lose you ; but wish and w»'t fa happier 

Bar. The times will come, assure yourself. 
My father may pot off this match. 

Ssru, If he should haatcn it? 

Bar. Why then — Nay, nay, you know my 
weakness. 

ScTu. Then I wil! be content ; you must at 
last be mine. [Ta]ting her hand.} Till then I'll 
watch with anxious care about you ; still cherish 



fan, my Harriet, tempers the 
jrohillai- 



Bar. 'Then keep it: [Gtving the fan.] keep 

as an emblem of your conduct; and when! 

claim it, which one day, no doubt, I shall, be it 

from ditiiculties— removed or yet increasing, or 

from whatever cause, when once 1 take it, ai>- 



hy, where the deuce^FEniers.] Oh ! here you 
re, aha! got acquainted already — that's right; 
B s as pretty a promising sprig of a — what ? he 
talking of? somewhat sensible t mentioning me t 

Scru. We were just talking of you, indeed. 
Sir David. 

Sir D. Like enough; what, you've got my 
young puss in a comer ? 

jSyu, I was eiplaimng to Miss Harriet, Sir. 

Sir D. I know it ; jairt she an apt scholar 1 
had it all from me ; sticks to a point, keeps close 
lo a subject; harkye, Hal, got news for you; 
lookye, a letter from Loi-don. 

Bar. About me, papa 1 

SlrD. Every little. Full of flames, seltle- 

ents, constancy, contracts, peacs, and pin-money 

.made up the match: here it is, [Sluneing the 
Letter.] as neat a mixture of love and taw ; no- 
thing but harmony and business; just like a 
parchment. Youll stay the 



Sir D, Pooh ! Pr'ythee, 'twont be long ; make 

us monstrous happy : Random and you now, eh 1 

shaU make no noise about it. Just a snug party. 

Only a tew friends, a roasted ox, a bUnd fiddler, 

and a hop in the hall, 
Hcru. May I ask the gentleman's name 1 
Sir D. Lord SnoKs. D'ye know him 1 
Soru. His person only | which is by no means 

in his jiivour : his lord^p is somewhat gummy, 

aitremely short too, Sir David. 

Sir D. Ha I no great hopes of his growing 

neither. My lord will be live-and-forty come 

Lammas, I take it. 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



., Rather an advanced age to begin making 



tich as a Rabbi. 

5bru. Money, I hear, Sir David, ia not the 
only ingredisnl nfcessarj in matrimony. 

SiirS. No: what else? 

ScTu, The power of Cu[Md, sometimes. 

Sir D. Curse Ciijnd ! he baa not a half-penny 
to buy him breeches. A love match won't light 
you a canille, egad. 
_ Sera. Anil yet a stupid, old, ugly husbaml, 



)1 plate — always handsome when he 's rich, 
f. M/fer TSading the Letter.] Be here to- 
■uu.iu«!BleEBmB,thisissoBudcJen,Bouneipect£ " 
SirD. Right ! the best way in the world 



id the hi 



Har. But you know, papa, I 
in his lordship: it wdlbe so I 



have 



his lordship : it wilf be so hasty. 
ir D, Be quiet ! I know it ; married ho my- 
BBlf, Hal. Shouldn't have had my dear Lady 
Dunder, if I had not been hasty. All agreed on 
bi;fore we met ; coupled in a quarter of an houi 
after I saw her ; come together as people dance 
minueta; 1 bowed, she courtesicd, and, egad, 1 
had her by the left hand in a moment. 

Scru. But the case here is different. Her 
ladyship had but little reasons for wishing delay: 
if all hushanda, indeed, had equal accompUsh- 

Sir D. Eh ! why somethinff in that ; men ar'n't 
alt alike; every body is not bleased with manner 
and style to — eh I— few such figur " ~ 



My 



why- 



Bar. Let me entreat you, Si., ^ .^ „,^- 

dpitate; let me take a little time lo— 

Sir fj. Take time ! Pooh, time steals too fest 
to be taken, now, Hal, My lord leaves London 
to-morrow, be here to dinner, to church, in the 
evening to-— eh I— why, what ails you I Look as 
red, and as pale as 

Bar, The weather, Sir; nothing more— the 
heat of the- — 

Sir D. Odso, true ; forgot thai. Beenbiraling 
here in the sun, like a lot of negroes : we'll walk 



you. [Embarrassed.] 1 . 

Sera. Youi fan. Madam. 

Sir D. Ay, ri^ht : a few flaps in the feee would 
Dring her about in a second. 

&TU. This, Madam, which you have Just per- 
mitted me the honour of carrying for you 

Sir D. Eh ! Did she 1 Give it her. Take it, 
Hal. 

Wir. Shall I, papal 

Sir D. To be sure. Can't well do without it, 
1 think, at present. A mifihty civil, danglmg-, 
well-bred sort of a carries it o' purpose for you, 



SWti. With the utmost pleasure, believe me, 
Madam. \Presenting it. 

Sir D. Well done. Dangle, egad I Flap away, 
Hal. Do you a deal ofoood, 

Har. [Ji^iming'.] Siovi refreshing to the 

Sir D. Yes, so it 's a sign, En't it, yon t 

Scru. Certainly— it is — it is a sign. Sir David. 

Sir D. I know it. Women can't do without 
'em. All their airs and graces depend upon it. 
The tap, flap, flirt, crack, peep, pat, and a hun- 
dred uses besides, which I have no notion of 

Har, [Fanning.] It would not be proper, if 
you had, papa. 

Sir D, Like enough : but let " ' 



them 



our budget : Guite delight my lady wit 
she'll be in a heU of a pucker. A fine fuss viilh 
preparations to-morrow, I warrant : up lo the neck 
in beef, gowns, docks, jewels, ribbons, and pull* 
pastry. Coma, Hal. [Going ou(J Soon have 
your swain kissing your hand, [Scbuple kisses 
it.] Come along ; soon settle this. Kitty will be 
coupled nejt. Cares are all over ; and I can now 
safely swear (hat most of my nneaamesa a behind 
[Eaeuni; Scruple courimg-HiRBieT, 
hekind Sib David, in dumb sftms. 



SCENE IV.— The SIdp Inn 



Enter Pee 



•.ting RouNDFEE and auiHK. 



Panl P. I hope, gentlemen, you have every 
thing to your sabsfaction, '' 

Round. I wish we had, with all my heart. 

Panl P. I am very sorry any thing should hap- 
pen amias. I do all for the best, your honours- 
tor people in post-chaises. [Aside. 

Quirft, Well, and how goes your house 1 are 
you tolerably full at present, eh, landlord ? 

Paul P. Um I Full enoi^h m (he larder, your 
honour. Plenty of fowls, ducks, geese, and 

geons ; and butchers' meat in abundance : mut- 

n chops, lamb chops 

Round. Damn chops: we don't want victuals, 

Quiri. But what company have yoo 1 Any 



Jdyof! 



3e1 



Any body that makes a 



vul P. Let 

und. Peha! 
your wife, man ; i 

q.v.irk. Ay, h) 
genflemen, for instance, above stairs t 

Paul P. Hnm I — there 's a very old 



!a — first, there's my wife- 
hate nothing lo do wilh 
ant an acquaintance or two. 
young 



down from London a 

Both. What! What! 

Paul P. Went away about eight, I believe. 

Rtnatd. Damnation ! I thought so, 

QuirA. But were they tall or short, or M or 

Paul P. Eh! One was m a gray coat, and 
the olhec in a green one — Very inquiailive. 

[Aside. 
Round. [To auiHK.] The very clothes we 
heard at the hotel they sat out in. What shall 
B do, ttnirk % How shall wo tarn t 
Quirk. Back. 
Round, Let's inquire further, however—I sup. 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



102 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



iKwe now, landlord, you'd like lo sea two auch 
gentlemen acain in your house 1 

Paul P. Certiunly, your honour I They are 
iiienclE of yours, I imagine? 

Qiiiri. Why, we ahould be glad to see 'em 
lEaiii, I promise jou. Do you expect 'em back, 
ifiortl J 1 

Paid P, Oh yes, in a day or two, I make no 

Round. Indeeil ! I am rejoiced to hear it. 

Paul P. Nay, perhaps soonei^l guess where 
they are gone; hardly out of sight oiDorer. 

Qiitrt, Ah I at Calais, no doubt— or at Bou- 
logne, edging the coast, as you say, Mr, Rouncifee. 

Paul P. And from what I could gather from 
Hie servant, 1 make uo doubt, but their occasions 
will make them come c^uickly to our town again, 

iJounrf. Rare news, Q,uirk — you're a very 
clever, sensible, intelligent fellow, landlord ; I am 
TO happy at the thought of serang my old fiieudB 
again— gad I— I begm to find my stomach return- 
ing — so you'll get us a chop, aiid half a pint of 
jour best port. 

Paai P. It shall be done, Sir. Stingy acoun- 
d»ll [Aside.] Here, Lewia. 

Enter Waitbh. 
Lay a cloth iu the back room, up two pair of 
Mairs, d'ye hear 1 

Wait. Very well, Sir. There'sthepacket just 



Bound. Eh! Who 1 

Quirk. Random ! Fot back again, by all that 's 

■ PaulP. Odsol ArBreeustomerlRun,LewL8, 
\Exit Waiter,] Yonr snack shall be ready pre- 
sently, gentlemen, and 

Qaij*. But stop and 

Pavi P. And erery thing to your satis&cMon, 
centlemen — and 

Round. We want to 

Paul F. Hot, and hot, gentlemen. 

Round. Plague of your 

Paul P. And I am your very humble servant, 
gentlemen 1 Coming ! [Exit, bawling. 

Bound, Huzzal rare newa, l^uirk. The 
luckiest hit in the world 1 They are just come on 
Shore, you see, and we shall coniB in for the cash, 
it least their persons, which is something towards 
it, directly. Come, come, we'll send for an otlicer 
whilst jve are at dinner ; and drinking a merry 
Ai^tinv.-^— Come, my dear duirk, we'll soon 
settle the business, I warrant ; and then, after our 
llot poat-cbaiao scamper, and I've made sure of 
my money, we'll travel back slowly, 



and you have grown as strong and as stout as ■ 

Old Rand. But I have a huge lump of eaten 
on my back, notwithstanding. 

Car. Butbealtb ia thegreatthingtocareaboat. 
Why you l^ok as hale ana as hearty as ever. 

Old Rat d. Indeed 1 do you think ao, Carney 1 

Cat. Think ! I know it. 

Old Rand. It has been of service. Before I 

out colour, and my face peeping trough a pared 
of wrappers. 

Cor. For all the world like a mummy 

Old Rand, How 1 why don't yon see now T — 

Car. Oh I quite another thing. Sir. 

Old Rand. Another thii^, Sirt Why, you 
booby, 1 am as well as ever Iwas in my fife, ex- 
cept a few pains, a gout, and a cough. 

Cor. Very true, Sir. 

Old Rand. Very true ! Then why am you m 
very costive in your congratulatians 1. Oh, the 
South of France is the best physician in the world 
—if it can't cure it seldom kills, and that 's more 
than most doctors can aay for themselves. Then 
the pleasant time we have passed together ; I 
nursing myself, and you keeping me company, in 
my room, all the while I was sick, in a fine, 
charming, warm climate I 

" Ay, happy days, indeed, Mr. Random. 



a the dilly. 



[Exe 



ACT m. 



SCENE I.-~A Roomin the Sh^, at Doner. 
Enter Old Random, leaning on Cahnev. 

OldRand. Gently, gently,gXJdCarneyI The 
mraed aea breeze has got hoQ of my hip, and I 
csn no moro move, at first setting off, than a post 

Cor. There '. there ! gently— and now, Mr. 
Random, many weliwmes to England again. We 
buvo been feeding on French air, like cameleons, 



The walks too I enjoyed, in imaginati 



I, lookii 



mg 



t of your 

Old Rand. And so you'd wish to have walked 
nt, and be damned to you ! taking your amuse- 
abroad, while poor I was tiding physic at 



Here 's friendship for yon ! aiid a pretty 

or the pleasure I for " ' ~ ' ' 

dose to my bed-side all t 



return for the pleasure f found in ke«[ang you 
dose to my bed-side all the daylong. Lord I 
Lord ! what few folks feel for any body but (hem- 

n sure I suflered as much as yon 
did yourself:' 

Old Rand. Well, well, you are the best of the 



unch, 1 



1 agree with. 



m of it, Carney 1 

Car. The similarity of our diapoationa, no 
doubt I for 1 talk, eat, drink, and think, eiactly an 
you do, Mr. Random. 

Old Rand. Something in that, I believe— but 
wl^t a singular, cruel case mine is, that with so 
many conneiions and a femily to boot, I find 
snob few proofs of people liking mc — -Plagueil 
with a profligate dog of a son too — who, because 
I have indulged in a few trifling pleaaures myaelt 
thinks that he mu^ be uninterrupted in his wild 
vagaries. Zounds I getting children is worse than 
getting a fever : tbey keep an incurable heat in 
one'sblood,andcost a devilish deal of money into 
the bargain. 

Cor. But there is some prospect of a cute hero, 
I hope? 

Old Rand. No. no— past recovery, I promisa 
you. The dog wii! be deucedly diaappomtod to 
see me so stout, again, I &ncy. [Orngking,] Eh, 

Car. impoaaible, Mr. Random: I cant think 
depraved. I dare say he'll be overjoyed 



to see you. 1 am sure, for my part, — [Poinpouahf. 
OldRand. Ay, ay, you are a good — ' '^-- 
ney, and don't know what ingratitude 



'■■ Ay, ay,y. 

__ ..__j t know whi 

think yon don't, for you are continually 

I me so but he— Didn't 1 intend to 

him my sole heir, and leave him eveiy thin|{. 



h,l^,OOgLC 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



Bicept my plate, and my pictures, and my houses, 
and my money 1 and aee his gratitude ! You are 
talking to me from morning to night of regard and 
attachmont ; now he has never made half a dozen 
of those fine professions in his life. 

Car. Where is he now t. 

Old Rand. Rattling all over the town, I sup- 
pose, with his friend Mr. Scruple, without a 
guinea in his pocket ; living like other lashionahle 
puppies, on what he has ieaat of, his wits ; laugh- 
ing at every man who has sense enough not to 
act and dress like himself— and this is Ion and 
fiishion now-a-days. Damme, he's hardly fit for 
j -i.ru-. ___ r .._ _-.i ..i.. ^ -■ 



Old Rand. Ha ! honest Peety ! 

Pant P. I hope I aee you well, Sir? your 
honour looks charmingly since I had the honour 
of seang your honour. 

Old Rand. See there 1 How the altei 
etrikes strangcra. [Tb Carney,] And any 
Master Peery T any thing stirring ktely 1 

J"ou( P. Nothing particular, except sinct 

(Xd Rand. Well, and what happened then? 
Anybody innuiring after me? Wioiaitl 

Paui P. T wo very inquisitive people. 

Old Rand. Oh I custom-house officers, [ in 
gine. 

PavlP. No,th6TcainefrottiLondon— they' 
asked a vast deal about your honour. Seem i 
jmeed to hear your honour's arrived. 

Old Rand. Very civil of 'em. [ see nothing 
particular in this, Master Peery. 

Paul P. And I heiieve they have sent for 
constable for your honour. 

Old Rand. Por me, Mr. Peery ! 

Car. Impossible! For what-! 

Paul P. Urn IPerhapa they think his honour' 



as soon as we set foot in England — a profligate 
a scoundrel I I'll — One moment, if you please- 
come here, Peery ! you aee this business f 

Paul P. Plain enough. 

Old Rand. Do you know of any Mr. ScrujJe 

Paul P. Odso! it's the Iwo young merchants, 
as sure as a gun, that Sir David! earned off in his 

Old Rand. Merc^ls I 

Paid P. Yes, and now I recollect, one called 
the otber Scruple, sure enough. 

Old Rand. Well, well, you see the mistake— 
you must be bail in this business. 

Paul P. Who, 1 1 Lord, your honoarl 

Old Rand. Come, no words. Who is this 
Sir David, you talk of 7 

PaulP. Sir David Dunder, of Dunder Hall— 
lives hard by, 

OWflanrf. Orderapost-chMse. I'lldrivethere 

Paul P. But it's so late, your honour. Past 
ten o'ckKk. 

Old Rand. No matter : 111 raise tho house. 
Zounda; I'll raise tho dead, but I'll be at the bot- 
tom of all this directly: and if you are shy about 
bail, why— I'll leave honest Carney here in pawn, 
till I come back. "^ ' 



"spy. 



! We shall be both appre- 

I that you are a block- 
can hardly walk, and 



Paul P, I can guess at no other reason they 
can have for taking up you, who are just come 
from France — but perhaps your honour may re- 
member some capital crime you iMve committed. 
I am sure 'Squire Random, a genlleman of MX 
thousand a year, can never want money. 

Enter Bazljfp and FoUover. 
Bai. Is your name Random, Sirl 
Old Rand. Well, Sir, suppose it is ? 
Bai. Then, Sir, you are my prisoner. 
Old Rand. The devil 1 am 1 
Bai. At the suit of Ralph Boundfoe, money 

""■ if London, for three thousand pounds. 

iquirc arrested for debt ^— it 



ler suspect myself, 
Bai. And Mr. Semple here for the same sum, 
[^apa OiHNEY's t/undder.] 
: ■ Osr. Scruple I Who. I ? 

' Old Rand. Scruple! Dick's crony, by Jupiter ! 
and I and poor Carney arrested for the dog's debts 



Paul P. The 's 
ran t be. 



varde so long, and you. 

Old Rand. Well, trundle these fellows down 
tairs. You'll ai^cept of his undertaking, 
Bai. We desire no better. 
Old Rand. As lo this Mr. What 'a his name ? 
Mr. Roundfee, who is in the house; not a word 
■"it to him, till I return; for particular reasons. 
Paul P. Every thing shall be done to your 
satisfection, Sir. Come, gentlemen, well pn>- 
oeed to the cellar, if you please ; the best lock-up 
house in Christendom. 

Car. Mercy on us ; what an escape ! 
Old Rand. An escape ! a scoundrel 1 an aban- 
doned—What do you think now of ail this, Car- 
ney 1 

Car. Think ' Why, I—What do you (hink 1 
Old Rand. That you are a blockhead, not lo 
eethemeaningof all this: that my son 's a block- 
lead to behave so ; and that I am a greater block- 
lead than any body to suffer it. — Zounds I I can 
hardly contain myself I'll never see his face 
again. Come along, Carney: 111 be with him, 
and sooner than he suspects, I believe : I'll un- 
kennel him, I warrant you : I'll disclaim him, I'll 
discard him. 111 undermine him, I'll undo him — 
damme, I'll unget him, — That's, disinherit him — 
Heahallrotin a jail: rot me,if he shan't; I'D 
teach him what it is lo run in debt in person, and 
et arrested by proxy. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II.— A Gallergin Dunder Hall. 

Four chamber doors at equal distances in the 
back scene. A chair placed against the far- 
thest door on the rigM hand ; stage dark. 
Random opens the second door, on the 1^, 

Sol all quirt: not a soul stirrins. {Ctmesfir- 
ard.] Sir David, good man, lianks to early 
hours, is snoring away in the next >T)om to me. 



r,l^,OOgLC 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



I hpard him, like a high wind, through the cracks 
of the old faiQlly wainscot. He little dreams of 
vjbat 'b (o happen hefora he wakes. Where tan 
Suruple be all this while "i He promiBed to be on 
the watch, as soon as every thing was silent; but 
he 'i so cursed alow, and backward in this busi- 
ness t If 1 was not pretty sure that one woman is 
as much as any one can manage, 1 should be 
tempted to take his nymph away without waitin 
for him. It 'e bo damned dark too, that there 
no being certain of his door. The chair was 
Incky thought; we should have made Bomc cor 
fourided mistake without it^ I heheve. How the 
plague now shall I make him hear, without dis- 
turb ag any one else. 

Scru. [Opens the farthest door on the left.] 
St— St I 

Savd. Scruple I 

Sera. Random, is it you 1 

Band. Yes! — softly! — all'sHnug. Thebaron- 
et 's as &s> as a church. 

Scru. And bis wife 1 — 

Rand. Pickling, 1 believe, below stairs in the 
store-room. The old woman's head ia so ftill of 
this nouBensical match Sir David has told her of, 
that she'll be up with the house-keeper, I tind, 
three parts of the night, to make preparatioi" '" 
the wedding, 

Scru. 'Sdeath, we shall be discosered ; we shall 
never get out without her hearing us. 

Rand. Pooh ! never havedone with your doubts 
and abjections % 

ScTw. Surely her being up is an objeetic 

.Rand. Certainly, she 's of great weight jn the 
house — for which reason she 's gone quite to the 
bottom of it. She must have devilish good eai 
to hear ub there ; for we shan't come within 
mile of her. But have vou heard any thin? of 
Tiptoe! 

Sera. No : do you espect him. 

Rand. Yes: I sent him to Dover, with orders 
to bring the carriage and horses to the hack gate 
of the garden. It 's turned of eleven loo, I take 
it. Lo^ what 'a o'clock, will you % 

Scru, Jjook ! why it requires the eyes of ! 
It 'b as dark as a dungeon. 

Raiut. Odso, I had tbmot; but he'll be here 
presently : I have been obUged to let bini into the 
secret : he has procured a key of the back-door, 
and will slide up to my chamber ; which he has 
had an opportunity of marking, be tells me, in his 
own way, to give us intelligence, 

Scru. Well, if he is but punctual — 

Rand. Oh ! you may depend upon him : but, 
till iia cornea, we may as well prepare our fair 
companions. I'll try and find out the chair, 
which IB against their dressing-room door ; where 
they are m WMting, IPeetmg about.] Their 
bed-chamber is beyond it ; so I may enter without 
infringing the rules of etiquette, you know. 

Scru. ilad'nt I better go with you 1 

Rand No, no ; slay here as an outpost ; I shall 
ffoon be nack. 

Seta. Gently, no mistakes now. 
. Rand. Never fear I So, here 's the chair. 

SsTu. Remember — caution 's the word. 

Sand. Ay, and expedition too. The house 
must divide, you know: bo the sooner we clear 
■the gallery the better. [ Taps ; door opeits, and 
Ite enters into the loomen's ckamher,] 

Scru. How awkward I ieel in tUB ba^aess 1 



It 's the first time I ever entered into a scheme of 
this sort ; and am now convinced that no man 
thinks of rimning away, without being cutsedlY 
fri^tened. 

Tiptoe. [Singing without.]— 
So great a man, so great a man, I'll be ? 

Ss™. Harkl What's thatJ Ha! a light. 
How the devil now 



inl It a 



randni 



Im 



1 have three chances to one of doing no 
mischief j and I dare say my unlucky stars (or 
rather oiy want of any Btars at all) will direct me 
to Sir David. So, here 's somebody 's chamber ; 
I must in, at all hazards. [Goes into t!ie samt 
QhambeT he eame out of,] 
Enter Tiptoe, with a dark lanlsni, singing, 
and drani. 
Tip. Here I am at last I What a plaguy parcel 
of turnings and windings, to get up to this old 
craiy galTeiy! umph! It has made me as giddy as 
a goose. Now for my masters, damn my mas- 
ters! Scamper! Scamper I Scamper ! — Twon't do 
— Wo ; never fit for me. Give me a regular, 
steady, sober iamily for my money. If it hadn't 
been for the lantern I be^d of the old boy at the 
inn — 1 was forced to treat the drunken scoundrel 
befiire he would give it me — I might have tumbled 
over the bannisters. Mr. Kanifom, now I think 
on't, ordered me to come in the dark ! IJmph I 
Crendemen think no more of servants' necks now- 
a-days, they think we've one to spare, like the 
Swan in liid-lane, I believe. But softly I softly ! 

IVn tkMB^ r mii^t an tr. iKi. /.Ik q ..iKa.- tn fall kfW. 



Im 



tolhe chamber to tell hun 
:, it 's the last 
gallery \ but 



Let n: 



door but one, ^ .. 

whether it's to the light, or to the left, 
if I recollect. Stay — [Timing round, and 
counting the doors.] One, two, iScee. DammB, 
how the doors dance ! I shall never find the right, 
if they take it in their heads to run round so con- 
fbuncfedly. I remember, [Taking the ehair.and 
draining it along.] when I lived vrith old Lady 
Hobble she always sat still at Ranelagh to fii^ 
out her company. Now, as these gentlemen here, 
[Pointirtg to the rfuorsj choose to take a Bane- 
lagh round, I think I had better sit quiet in the 
middle of 'em, till any old acquaintance comes by. 
[PvUs the chair against the next door, anil sill 
down.] Zounds I how ^t somebody ^eeps, Sir 
David, perhaps. I wonder if baronets ever snore. 
What the devil am I to do now 1 Gel my head 
broke tor not calling my master; and my bones 
broke, if I should happen to call any body else in- 
stead of him, As that is the case, I'll call nobody, 
'ad !' — -I'll e'en go back to the carriage, and wait 
[I they come for me. So, gendy, steady. 

[ExU, singing. 
Scru. [After a pause, opens the door.] Once 
ore every thing is quiet. 1 can't conceive who 
could be so long with a light in the gallery. I 
id best give Random notice of what has happen- 
I ; that in case we are watched, he may be upon 
s guard. Hereabouts the door must be— [W 
^ lo the door Random entered.] Eh! no chair 
-sdeath, this is Sir David's! A pretty blunder 
I should have made ! [ Goes to the ne.Tt.] O here 
sat last. [Tape al the door.] Whatanumber 
accidents this little contrivance has prevented 1 
I had better explain to him what has happened. 
: inside of my chamber J for it's dangeroni 



„Googlc 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



Sir DiTiD opens the door in kis bed-gown and 
night-eap.] 

SirD. WeOI 

Scm. Hash! it's I. 

SirD. I! 

Sera. Softly! Softly! Zounds, jou ai 

■-mber.]' 

Sir O. Follow me! Damned, if I do tbough. 
Can'f stir a step without running the risk of 
bteaking my nose. Cursed queer! A fellow in 
the dark with no name, a rascal to rob the house, 
perhspB— gad, it has put me all in a twitter. 
ItANnoM comes <ml teilk a bundle from ike 
women's ckaTaber, 

Sand. St I St I 

Sir D. Eh ! 

Rand. 'Tis I. 

Sir O. So 1 here 'b 'tother I. [AeiiU. 

Rand. Where are you t Hore ! hold this bun- 
dle, [ThriittingHmtokiJi hands.] Why, what 
maluis you shake so 1 Are yoo cold here 1 

"■ " " ' Jiief! — He 'II cut my throat 
lAside. 



SirD. Zounds, 
if 1 cry out. 

Rand, For shame, Qunied at such a 
IhU ! But there 's no knowing even one 's friends 
mi they're tried, 1 see. 

Sir D. Like enough. Most of your friends 
have been tried, I dare say, [Asiiie. 

Rand. Put we shall Wo a whole cargo to 
carry. Stay where you are now. Don't sfir for 
your life, and I'll ba back in an instant. We'll 
soon make an end, ! warrant you. 

[Returns to the ■woTnen's chamber. 

Sir D. That yon will, a pretty public one too, 
( take it. Mercy on me ! How shall I get away 1 
Tbc dos 's ^ven mo a bundle here as bia as a 
child, 1 shall be brought in for a new kind of 
burglou^— Cast for breaking into my own house, 
ana hanged for robbing myself of property. My 
iady 's locked up below, 1 suppose; boandbaukto 
badi with the old housekeeper : or gagged and 
raviahed, poor quiet soul, with the rest of the 

fiimily females. If I could but contrive to 

\Fed.ing abovi. 

Scru. [P1>.U^ngButhishead^ Hollo! 

Sir D. Oh, the devil ! There 's one in every 
OHTier, a. whole banditti playing at bo-peep. 

[Aside, 

Siru. Come, come, don't trifle now ; I've some- 
thing to say to you. 

Sir D, 'The fellow don't know me in the dark. 
I'll_de«eive him. [A^de, 



SirD. 

Sent. What's the matter' 

Sir ft Ye , _ 

Scm, Ha I we are discovered. 



.ny body coming ' 



againi 



ning oat, and r 



Rand, Now, my dear Scruple, all 'a ready. 
SirD. Zounda, it's the two merchanla! 

[Aside. 
Rand. Our packing is all over. 
Sir 0. Indeed ! 
Vol. I. . . . O 



instant, you rogue ! And we've no- 
thing to do, but to lead 'em to the coach, and 
away as fast as love, money, and horses, can carry 
us. Didn't I tell you now, thai your doubts were 
all nonsense! but, 'sdeath, you are so dull about 
it ; yonr fears have so overcome you, that— why 
aren't you like me— all rapture, all passion ? 

SirD. Hem! [Slowing signs of agitation. 

Rand, Ay, this is right now I this is as il. 
should be. But I'll go and bring 'em out. [Go- 
ing-; (urns back.] Ha, ha, ha! I can't lielp 
laughing to think what a damned clallcr Sir 
David will make by and by. His fat ibbsy wife 
too; cackling about the i»use, hke an old hen that 
has lost her chickens. 

FStrft Old hen! Damme, I wish she had 
never sat to have brought such a brood. 

[Aside. 

! in your life 1 iiut I'll go and con- 
rge. By the bye, has Tiptoe been 

Sir ft No. 

Rand. Careless scoundrel I But we shall find 
him at the gale with the carriage, I su[)pose. 
Now for it Now to deliver our damsels from the 
clutches ofan obstinate fool of afather. A block- 
head, to think to marry women to whom he 
pleases ! No, no : whenever there 'sany forbidden 
fruit, it is not in human nature to rest easy till it 
is tasted, [Feeling for the door. 

Sir ft Liquorish dogs ! [.Keeps bock. 

Scru. [Coming oui.l Why, what could he 
mean 1 T-liere 's no noise ; all's quiet as can be. 
Random ! 

Rand. Well, 

jSeru, Are you ready! 

Rand. Yes, yes; didn't I tell you so3 We'n* 
coming. 

Scru. Well, well : Tiptoe has not been here. 

Rand, Psha ! Plague, I know it; you told mo 
) already, 

Stru. Did I? Wheni 

Rand. Why, this instant; but you are in such 

flutter, you can't remember a word you say. 
lut you have taken care of the bundle I hope 1 

Scru. Bundle ! What bundle ■>. 

Rand. That, that I gave you just now. 

Scru, Just now! not you, indeed! Why, you're 
I a flutter yourself 

JRand, Pooh, pooh! 1 tell you the bundle 1 
brought out of the room. The bundle that 

Scru. Damn the bundle! I never saw it, nor 
felt it In all my liib. 

Rand. Now, how can yc- be so cursed olisti- 
latel I put it into your own hands, and you 
ihook as if you'd an ague. 

iSlr™. Shook I your memory is shook, 1 believe. 

Rand. Gad, I could have sworn I had given it 
'ou, but we must not stand upon trifles now. 
rime's premous.— [ppena Ike women's door; 
Tabbiet and Kitty come out] This way, this 
vay. Now, ladies, we attend you. 
IS dark as pitch. 



.Rand. Never fear. 
Bar. Heavens 1 how I tremble. 
ScTM. Courage now, my Harriet, 
mon defy everv Janjfer. 



ic.i,d=, Google 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



Rand. Well said, eoorage! we 
«gaJ ! 'Sdcath, Madam, if you lii 
jou Bpoil all. I'll bring ;ou all through, I warranl 

Har. I fear I shall never bear up. The step I 
am taking, the weight on my spirits 

Rand. VapoursT vapours, from being in the 
dark; nothing else, believe me, Madam. 

Har, My mother too — -what will not she feell 

Scru. Way, pursue this no further. 

Kitty. Mamma wi)l he in a evveet bustle, I 
'warrant. Rstlliug about Sir David'a ears ibr 
Jiringingyou* ' ' ' 

SirD. f" 

Kitty. ' . 
•world, Gemini, I shall m 

Rand. Slay: take my n 
Scruple — arm in arm all li 



Scruple- 
jnaitJi. 

Sir D. Ml 
ye, though — 



r find my may. 
Come, Ma ' 
and then fo 



ae, but I'll muster among 
\Aside, 
[h^jiB 4JAVID cornea Jtfrward between Iheiti. 
Kitty takes hold of Sir David's a-ad 
Random's arms, Habhiet ofSm David's 
and Scruple's; aU arm in, arm, Sir Da- 
vid in the middle. 
Rand, So ; thus linked, he must be a cunning 
and a boU tellaw Coo, that thinks of dividing us. 
[Going. — A loud ringing al Ike bell. 
iSbnt. Hark ! somsbodj rings at tJie gate. 
Hot. Oh mercy ! we shall be seen. 
Katn. Lad ! there 's a light I hide 1 hide us, Ibr 

Sir D, {Alwid.] No, no 1 stay where you are. 
Come along, my lady ; a light will do us a deal of 



Biiter Lab 



DuNDEH, laitli a light. 



Servant, ladies and gentlemen. 

Lady. Mercy on me I Sir David ! girls > gen- 
tlemen I 

Sera. Ccmfusion I 

Rand. Sir David! 

Sir D. Yes, here we are — been frisking about 
'■'■- a parcel of rabbits. Our burrows are all 



Lady. Why, what's the 1 



«ingof 



Lady. How ! and is ^s the return for 

Sir D. Hush 1 ay, is this the return for my 

open, hoapitable, generous 1 that put salt in 

3^ur porridge, bifid in your month, and steaks in 



yours 



ach;er 



g;ratitucle. 

Lady. AnJ come here on purpose, I suppose, 
with a trumped-up story of 

Sir D. Ttump ! Jarame, this will be their last 
trampltake it. Andyoutool [TothE Women.} 
You ! [ Ta Harhi et.] you that I intended to link 
to a lord; to go and give up a peer for a pedlar; a 
nwrchant ; a fellow that lives like a lobster by salt 
water; a culler of pepper and spice; a trailer in 
train wl, Greenlanil blubber, and China pipkins ; 
or a black dealer in devils to sell at American 
markets. 

fikru. 'Sdeath! What is all this l 



out asking. French leave, if I had not been here ■ 
have smuggled my goods in the dark, trotted over 
the Tweal, and been hammered together by a 
bare-breeched blacksmith. A fine Scotch umon, 
egad 1 my two rich roses here tied to a pair of ^oor 
pitiful thistles ! but zounds 1 I'll have satisfaction. 

Lady. For heaven 's sake, my dear ! cool yoiir 
choler a little. Sir David. 

Sir D. Be quiet. What I have I had a sword 
bobbing between my legs, at Dover hops, ani] 
quiet country meetings, ibr these twenty years ; 
and now not rub off its rust, in the oily guts of a 
couple of whale catchers, for what I luiow to the 



OldR 






tuilkout. 



Old Rand. Come along, Carney : late as it is, 
my gentlemen can't escape now, I believe. [ Tbey 
enieT.'\ Hey-day ! the whole family collected 1 

Rand. My father I a preMy hnsiness we have 
made of it. 

Old Hand. I beg pardon for this intrusion, — 
but if Su^ David Dunder is here, and sees the 

iSir D. I know it ; see it all already : fine occa- 
sion, indeed: and you, too, [Ta Old Rand.] aia 
as accomplices, do you ■?— an old fellow — sham I 
What, you've a wig, now, I warrant, like a young 



« with a dap 



counsdior 's — squeezed 
r tail pe( ■ -i--- 

Oldha 

Car. My worthy old friend means. Sir 

Sir D. Hush ;— he is an old one, is he 1 mi 
I run away with my wife, then, I suppose. 
Lady. I fancy he'd find it a difficult matti 

Old Rand. Run away I Not I. 1 came 

flcr a couple of youi^iters, that 

Sir D. Did you I There they ai 



Old Rand. So, you are two pretty gentlemen ; 
ire not you 1 And how dare you, Sir,look me in 



RaTid. i am at a lass how to comprehenii. 

Old Rand. But that nisiail, that rogue, Round- 

s, I think they call him, he can, I believe. Hera 
have I and poor Carney just been taken in cus- 
tody fiji yoo, at Dover ; while you have been play- 
ing your pranks at large all over the country. 

sir Z>. Eh! be quiet. — Cursed migenleel 
though in you, if you are his father. ZoTinds I 
vou have used me worse than they 1 Gel yonrself 
locked up for your son here, with a plague to you ! 
that he and his friend may have time to lun off 
with my daughters. 

Old Rand, 1 1 I have withdrawn my counte- 

son wouH 
>, if I'd lei 

Old Rand, How i what, attempt to 

Sir D. Be quiet. — I am the injured party : lei 

Lady. No, Sit David, I'll— 

Scru. To end all confusion, I'll speak. 



r,l^,OOgLC 



WAYS AND MEANS. 



Hand, What tne deuce can Doubtful say now, 
after all. [Aside. 

Scrji. It is yourself, Sir Dasld, who have been 
-chiefly to blame. 

TttiitJ. He beats me slJ to nothing. [Aside. 
X unguanleil kinitnees to atrangera 
'"•—'id with much more clia- 



107 



SCTU. You 



agreeable conaequenOL .. __. 

(era from report, I see : chaiaclers which we never 
thought oT assuming. 
Sir D. Oh, damn Paul I 

Sera. Ourinvitation was unsought; andthough 
\H\r manner of requiting your ^voura appears un- 
loMiflable, yoa may congratulate yourself, that 
inateaJ of being practiaed upon by men, unworthy 
yonr lomitenanee, you have met with gentlf 
Sir D. Here 's two fine fblloms 1 coae inl 
house— going to carry off half ont on their e 
dcts— and (hen— I have met with gentlemen 
Shm. Our conduct, Sir David, is not bo 
pable aa yoa imagine. A chance, like your pre- 
sent invitation, threw us id your daughters' way 
at Bath, and our continued aHection (I think I 
may answer for my friend) may prove our motives 
are uoeuided by interest: as a further proof of it, 
we disclaim ail views of their fortune, — BphIow 
but their hands. Sir David, and we shall 
Sir D. Ehl zounds! something nobl. 



Lady. Well I sow the young ra 

prellilj in hia defence, that 

Hand. If your ladyship and my father coula 
forget paal occurrences, and join with me in my 
" Sir David for a union with hia daughter— 

my future conduct 

Rand. Urn!— Why, as things are so. Sir 
; and my connejtiona are pretty consider- 
— - '^>">- pretty well knowr 



Car.Ag 






?Z^ 



I have 



lappy. 



Z^dy. But to think of carrying away om 
dear rosy girls here ; handaomer than all the 
chiti of the county. 



the pale 



a- B. Hush I handsomer 1 Ay,, and richer 
too ! with pockets full of money : bouaewives 
stufled with bank notea ; and work baga crammed 

Old Rand. Indeed, 1 begin to think Dick is 
not such a sad dog aa I took him for. Eh ! Car- 
Car. I am perfectly of your opinion, Mr. Ran- 

Lady. And what has the other gentleman to 
say for himself 1 [To Random. 

Kitty. Indeed, mamma, we are not much to 
blame neither. 

Rand. Love, Madam, all-powerful lova, must 
plead my excuse; a paaaion which may once have 
infiuenood voar ladyship's dehcate susceptible 



known my good friend hcri „„ , „._ .,„.^ 

had his property under my eye for these Ayp 

Old Rand. And hia fiiend, I am happy to tell 
you, is as well connected as he ia. 

Sir D. Ia he 1— WeU. as matters are— and my 
lord might find a flaw here,— aii ugly busineaa, 
not mudi to hia liking ; 1 think we can hut in 
honour be off— ao, to prevent cursed country scan- 
dal, gabbhng giria, ugly old maids, and all that — 
I think we may as well, my lady 1 
Lady. As you think proper. Sir David. — Har- 

ffur. We are bound now. Madam, botb by in- 
clination and duty, to follow your commands. 

Kitty. Yes, mamma, we are both bound. 

Sir D. Well, then ; there, there ! take one ano- 
ther— no words. 

Rand. And now. Kilty, I am your prisoner 

Old Rand. Remember, RoundfiH, though ; — 
there you might have been a prisoner not much 
'" your liking. 

SiT D. What I a usurer 1 Damme, let 's duck 

Old Rand. Oh I he and his gentlemen may be 
'"-' ™"- - Haare. Their Blunders have lell 
' mercy, and they merit none, I pro 
■fellows, whose business it is to prov 
upon the unthinking, estort from the needy, a 

live upon the dialressHi of m — '--— = •■— — 

little cc.. 

SiT D. I know it. But here, however, they 
shall have no dialresses to prey upon, no moping, 
melancholy kxiks now. All's well, 1 hope, at 
last, aa it ought to be — and nothing ought to aive 
-"- "' ■•' '•'- p, so much pleasure as looking, tiv 
of very merry faces, [Exeunt, 



settled with at 



, Google 



THE DEVIL TO PAV: 

OB, 

THE WIVES METAMORPHOSED; 

A BALI.AD FARCE, 

BY CHARLES COFFEY, Esa. 



DfB 


sliElitin,po 


caDce. Itwa 


originally 


wriuen 


in Oaee a 






jlybyMesBt 


Coflbyai 








=b0VB copi^H 


Uwaarepro 


iced in it 




state in 




Thacelet 


.ledMrH-Cll 


eisBBid 








Mr. Harper 


tho original 


q JoiMH. 




aWy adva 


















Je aftanrdity 




mecbs 


jacleis der 


see 


»ithp]e.» 




By bumou 


r of Ihe 


dialogue, a 



t^liricalion. aa erer duUwd tngelber in ■ 
Is liy a perlbnner of Ibe name of Jevon. af. 
n cut inl« a single act li; Tbeophilai Clblier. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Sir John I.OVEB.0LE Mr. J 

EUTLKR, , 

PaoTMAN, Mr-L 











r.-Dunml. 


Lucv 


: AUiina. 




r.Emety. 


Nell, 



SCENE /— Jobson's House, 

Enter Joeson and Nell. 

NeU, Pr'jlhee, good Jolson, stay with n 



night, anil Mr once make 

Job. Peace, peace, you jade, and go spin : for, 
if I lack any thread for my elLlching, I will punish 
j3a by virtue of my aovereign authority. 

Nell. Ay, marry, no doubt of that, whilst yon 
take your ening at the alehouse, Bpeiul your sub- 
stance, get as drunk as a beast, and then come home 
like a sot. and use one like a liog. 

Job. Nouni I do you prate 1 Why, how now, 
faazen-fcee, ^ you speat ill of the goremment I 
Don't you know, hussy, that t am king in my 
uvea hous<^ and that this is treason against my 
loajesty 1 



NeU. Did ever one hear such stufn Bull pray 
lu now, Jobson, don't go to the alehouse fo- 

JiA, Well, I'll humour yon for once ; but don't 
crow saucy upon't ; for I'ta invited by Sir John 
Loverule's buller, and am to be princely drunk 
with punch at the hall-ptaca : we shall have a bowl 
large enough to swim in. 

kU. But they say, husband, the new lady wiQ 

sufTer a stranger to enter her doors ; she 

grudges even a draught of small beer to her own 

servants ; and eeverd of the tenants have come 

home with broken heads from her ladyship's own 

hands, only for smelling strong beer in the house. 

Job. A plague on her for a finatical jade I She 

has almost distracted the good knight. But she 's 

abroad, feasting with her rcfations, and will 



h,l^,OOg[C 



THE DEVIL TO PAY. 






a have 



much drink, a fiddle, and" merry gamboif 

Ndl. O, dear husband, let me go with you; 
we'll be as merry aa the nighf 's long. 

Jab. Why how now, you hold haggage ! would 
you be carried to a company of smooth-laced, 
•bating, drinking, lazy servuig-men 1 No, no, you 
Jade, I'll not be a cuckold. 

Nell, Tm aura they would make me welcome ; 
you promised I should see the house; and tbe &- 
mlly has not been here before, ainca yon married 
nud brought tne home. 

Job. why, thou most audacious strumpel. 

dar'st thou dispute with me, thy lord and master i 

Gfet in and spin, or elae my strap shall wind 

about thy tits most confoundedly. 

Air. 

He thai has the best wife. 

She 'a the plague o^ his Ufh , 

But for her, bAo vMl scold and aiU 

Let Aim cut her ^ akoti 

Of her meai and her sport, 

And ten times a day Aoop her barrel, bratit boys. 

And lea limes a day hoop her barrel. 

NeU. Well, we poor women must al 

slaves, and never have any joy ; but you 

snd ramble at your pleasure. 

Job. Why, you most pestilent baggage, will 
you be hooped t Be gone. 
Nell. I must obey. 

Job. Slay ; now I think on't, here 's 5ij™nce 
for you ; get ale and apples, stretch and puff thy- 
self up with lamb's woo), rejoice and revel by 
thyself, bo drunk and wallow in thy own sty, like 
a grumbling sow as thou art. 

He that has Ihe beat mife, [Singe. 

She '3 the plague of his life, &c [Exeiail, 

SCENE Il.Sia. John Loterdle's House. 
Enter Butler, Cook, Footman, Coacbmak, 



lie, while oor termagant lady is abroad : I have 
made a most sovereign bowl of punch. 

Lvrn/. We had need rejoice sometimes, for oar 
devilish new lady will never suffer it in her hear- 
ing. 
Enter Blind Fiddler, Jobsoh, onrfKBioHBOURS. 

But. Welcome, welcome all ; this is our wiah, 

Honeat old acquaintance, goodman Jobson, 

how dost thou 'i 

Job. By my troth, I am always sharp^aet to- 
wards punch, and am now come with a firm reso- 
lution, thonah but a poor cobler, to be as riiily 
drunk as a lord : I am a true English heart, and 
look upon drunkenness as the beat part of the 
liberty of the anbject. 

Btit. Come, Jobson, we'll bring out our bowl 
of punch in solemn procession ; and then for a 
wing to crown our happiness. [Exeunt, 



tone.^rfitf Bacchus, god of uihie. 
Crown this nighf uiilh jjeasure ; 
et none at cares of life repine. 



Fill up Ihe mighty snarilivg bowl. 
Thai every trueaniloyal soal 
Maydririk and sing icit/unit control, 

"Tius, mighly Bacchus, shdt ihou be 

Quardian of our j^easure ; 
That under thy pri^ectioa me 

Miy emoy new pleasiire. 
And as the howa glide away. 
We'll in thy name iavohe (jfetV stay. 
And sing &v prai/ea, that we may 

lAve and die toifh pleaeure. 
But. The king and the royai family in a brim- 



Were 's a good health to the king. 

And send him a proaperoua reign ; 

O'er hiUs and highmounlains 

We'a drink dry the/oantains. 

Until the sun rises again, iram ioi/s, 

Th^i here 's to thee, my bog boon, 
And here 'a to thee my boy boon ; 
Aa yce've tarried aU day 
For to drink down Ihe Sim, 



Omaea. Huzaa ! 
Enter Sir John Lovehoi.e, and Lady Lovk- 

Lady L. O heaven and earth ', what 's here 
within my doora! la hell broke loose? What 
troops of fiends are here 1 Sirrah, you impudent 

Sir J. For ahanie. my dear. — Aa this is a time- 
of mirth andjollity, it has always been the cuslom 
of my house to give my servants Uherty in this 
eason, and to treat my country ndghbours, tliat 
rith mnocent sports they may divert themselvea. 
Lady L. I say, meddle with your own affiira, 
will govern my own house without your putting 
1 an oar. Shall I ask your leave to correct my 

Sir J. I thought, Madam, this had been my 
house, and these my tenants and servants. 

Lady L. Did I bring a fortune, to be thus 
abused and snubbed before people 1 Do you chII 
ly authority in question, ungrateful man 1 Look 
) your dogs andlioises abroad, but it will be my 



to govei 



II I beec 



roIlBl 



)ye'erahunting, hawking knight in Christendom. 

Air, — SiH John Loterijle. 

Ye gods, you gave tome a wifct 

Oui of your grace and favour. 
To be the comfort ^ my life. 

And I Kas glad lo have bin 
But if jrauT providence divine 
For greater Hiss desifn her, 
T' o5fy your aiUs at any time, 
Fm ready to resign her. 
This is to be married to a continual tempeat 
rife and noise canting and hypocrisy, are eter- 
sUy afloat,— 'Tis impossible to bear it iong. 
LadyL. Yefilthy scoundrels, and odious jades 
II leach yon to junket it thus, and steal my pro- 
sions i I shall be devoured, at this rate. 
Bvl. I thought. Madam, we might be merry 
ice upon a holiday. 
Tjidy L. HoUday, you popish eur I Is ona 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



110 



THE DEVIL TO PAY. 



day more holy than another 1 And if it he, you'll 
he aure to get drun^ upon it, you logue. [Beali 
him.^ You minx, you impudent flirt, aie yoi 
jigging it ajifr an abominable flddle 1 

[Imts Ldct ty the ears 

Ijuey- O lud \ she has pulled off both mj ears 

Sir J. Pray, Madam, con^der youi sex ani 
quality : I blush foi your behaviour. 

LadyL. Consider your incapacity : you shall 
Hot instruct me. Who are you, thus moffled, you 
buizard 1 {She beais them off; JoBSON eteois ' 

Job, I am an honest, plain, paalm-Biuging ( 
bier, Madam : if jrour ladyship would but go 
church, you might heai'me above all the rest thi 

Lady L. Til try thy VMce here first, villain. 
[Strikes k 

Job. Nounz I nhat a plague, what a dcvtl ails 






Lady L. Waa ever poor lady so miserable in i 
brutish husband as I am 1 I that am so pious and 
so religious a woman 1 

Job. [iSu^i.] He that km the best wife. 
She 'i the plagve of kU life ; 
Bat for her Aat wUl scold and viiU quarrel. 

[ExU. 

LadyL. O rogue I scoundreH villiunl 

Sir J. Remember modesty. 

Lady L. I'll rout you all with a vengeance— 
•I'll spoil your squeaking treble, 

[Beats Che fiddle about the blind Man's head. 

Fid. O toarder! murder! 

Sir J. Here, poor fellow, take your staff and 
be gone ; there 'e money lo buy you two suca ; 
that 's-yonc way. [Exit Fiddler, 

Jjady L.. Methinks you are very liberal. Sir. 
Must lay estate maintain you in your pro&seness 1 

sir J\ Go up lo jom: closet, pray, and compose 
your mind. 

Lady L O wicked man I lo bid me pray. 

Sir J. A man can't be completely cursed, I 
sec, without marriage : bnt since there is such a 
thing as separate maintenance, she shall to-morrow 
enjoy the benefit of it. [Knocking at the rfoor.] 
Here, where are my servanlsl must they he 
frighlsd from me f— Within there— see who 
knocks. 

Lady L. Within there— Where arc my slutal 
ye drabs, ye queans — Lights there. 

Re-enter EuTLEH. 
Sat. Sir, it is a doctor that hvcs ten miles off; 
he praotisea physic, and is an astrologer ; your 
worship knows him very well; he is a cunning 
man, makes almanacks, and can help people to 
thrar goods agun. 

Enter Doctor. 

Doc. Sir, I humbly beg your honour's pardon 
for this unseasonable intrusion : but I am benight- 
-ed, and '^s so dark that I can't posEibly find my 
way home; and knowing your worships hospita- 
lity, desire the favour lo be harboured under your 
roof to-nighC 

Laay £. Out of my house, you lewd conjurer. 

Doc, Here 's a turn 1 Here 's a change !— Well, 
If I have any art, ye shall smart for this. [Aside, 

Sir J. You see, friend, I am not masler of my 
-iwn house ; therefore, to avoid any uneasiness, 



and I'll send my servant lo'conduc _ 

nant's honse, wheire you'll be well entertained. 

Doc I thank you. Sir; Pm your most humble 
servant — But as ibr your lady there, she shall this 
night teel my resentment. [Exit. 

Sir J. Come, Madam, you and I must have- 
some conference together. 

Lady L. Yea; Iwill have a conference and 3: 
refecma^on too in this house, or I'll turn it upside- 
down— I wilL [Exeanl. 

■SCENE fl/.— Jobson's Home. 

Enter Nell and the Doctor. 

Nell. Pray, Sir, mend your draught, if yoU' 
please ; you are very welcome. Sir. 

Doc, Thank you heartily, good woman; and 
to requite your eivih^, I'll lollyou your fortune, 

Nell, O, pray do. Sir ; I never, had my fortune 
lold me in my Me. 

Doc. Let me behold the hnea of your fiice. 

NeU, I am a&aid^ Sir, 'tis none of the cleanest; 
I have been about dirly wort alt this day. 

Doc. Come, come, 'tis n gocd fece, be not 
ashamed of it ; you shall show it iii grealer places 
suddenly, . 

Nell. O dear, Sir, I shall be mightily ashamed : 
I want dacity when I come before great folks. 

Doc, You mu^ be oonMent, and fear nothing ; 
there is much happiness attends you. 

Nell. Oh me ! tbis is a rare man ; heaven be 
fhanked. [Amde. 

Doc. To-morrow, before the sun rise, you shall 
be the bappiest woman in this country. 

Nell. How, by to-morrow 1 alaek-a-day, Sir, 
how can that bo 1 

Doe. No more shall you be troubled with a 
surly husband, that teuIs at, and straps you, 

Nell. Lud ! how came he to know that ■? he 

□St be a conjurer! [.ilstije.} Indeed my husband 

somewhat rugged, and in liis.eupa will beat me. 

It it is not much : he's an honest pains-taking 

an, and I let hiro have his way. Pray, Sir, take 

ither cup of ale. 

Doe. I thank you — Believe me, to-morrow you 
shall be the richest woman i'th' hundred, and ride 
n your own eoach. 

Nell. O father ! you jeer me. 

Doc. By my art, I do not. But mark my 
pords, he confident, aiul bear all out, or worse will 
follow. 

Nell. Never fear. Sir, I warrant you O ge- 



Enter Jobson. 

Job. Where is this queanl Here,Nelll What 
1 plague, are you dmnk with your Iamb's wool 1 

NeU. O husband I here 's the rarest man— he 
has told me my fortune, ^ 

Job. Has he so ! and planted my fortune too, 

fusty pair of horns upon my head — Eh ! — Is'l 

Doc. Thy wife is a virtuous woman, and tluju'lt 
be hapi^ — — 

Job. Come out, you han_g-dog, yon juggler, you 
cheating, bamboozhng villain ; must I be cuckolded 
by such rogues as you are, mackmaticians, and 
^anack makers % 

Nell. Pr'ythee. peace, husband, we shall ba 
rich, and have a coach of our own. 



ic.i.= o;*^.OOgIc 



V.J 



THE DEVIL TO PAY. 



toochedher, you 



Job. A coach I a cart, a wheel-barrow, you jadi 

Bv the mass, she 's drunk, beastly drunk, mof 

(KHifoundedly drunk— Get to bed, you strumpet. 

[Beats hei 

Nell. O mercy on us! is this, a taste of my 

good fortunel Oh, you are the devil off --■ 

sore enough. 

Dob. You had better 
Burly rogue. 

Job. Out of my house you villain. 

Doc. Parewell, you paltry slave. 

Job, Glet out you rogue. [Exeant, 

SCENE IV.— An open Cmnlry. 
Enter Doctor. 

Doc JIfji ttiUe tptriii, now appear, 

Nadir and AbiiArtg, draw near ; 
Tke time U eAort, make no delai/ ; 
' ^^BH.quv^y haalB, and comeavtay: 
Nor moon, nor itor* ajord their light. 
Bat ail II an^ed is gloomy night : 
Bi>th men andbeaittt to rest mt^me. 
And aS tAityi/avDur mydetisn. 

Sfit.nVUhin.} Say.suater.HbHutDieifone? 

I>:ic. My atrai conimaiidi ie aure attend. 
For, en litis mgM ekaB have an end, 
you mast thia cabHer'i loi/e transform. 
And (0 tke haghCt lie Hie perform : 
With att your most speafic charms. 
Convey each tt4fe to di^rent anaa ; 
Let •Bttddimoa ht to strong, 
l^at none may know Ihe nght fiom vrrong. 

%ir. Ail ihit we vM viilh care psrform 
In Ikunder, lighinitix,amm storm. 

[Thunder. Exit Doctor. 

SCENE r.— Jobbon'e Boase.—Tliebed in viem. 
JoBSOti rMscoiyered at work. 
Jab, What devil has been abroad to-night % I 
nerer heard such claps of thunder in my life ; I 
thought my iitUe hovel would have flown away; 
but now afl is clear aeain, and a fine star-lifflif 
morning it is. Hi settle myself to work- They 
aay, winter's thunder ia summer's wonder. 

Of oH ifc trades from east to west, 

■The coiilrr's, past contending. 
Is Uke in dme to prove the best. 

Which everi) £11/ is mending. 
Boat great his praise, mho can amend 

The sdes of aU his neighbours ; 
Nor is HTnaindful of Ms end, 

But to his tost stui laboara. 



aervanta 1 Somebody come and hamstring thi* 
rogue. \ Knocks. 

Job. Why, how now, you brazen quean i you 
must gel drunk with the conjurer, most you 1 I'll 
give you money another time to epenil in lamb's, 
wool, you SHU" ' '" ' " ■ ■■ 

LadyL. 7 

ring. When _ .._ ___ 

him in a blanket. 

Job. Ay, the jade 'a asleep still : the conjurer 
told her ahe ahould keep her coach, and she is 
dreaming of her equipage. {Sings, 

I will come in, in spile she said. 

Of aU suai chiiAs as thee ; 
Tliou art the canse <^ aa our fian. 

Out grief and misery. 
Thoa first broke Ihe commandment. 

When Adam heard her say these words. 
He roM aicay for life. 



mffcr 
Job. 
ihe knighted me? and my n: 
good jest, faith. 

Lady L. Ha! hc'a gone, he's not in the b(d, 

eaven! where am 17 Fob! what loathsome 

smells are here ? Canvaas aheets,. and a filthy 

ragged curtaioj abeastly rog.andaflockbed, Am 

Job, 

worda from her before 1 i? I take my strap to you, 
I'll make you tnow your husbBud, I'll teach yoU! 
better manners, you aaucy drab. 

Lady L. Oh, astonishing impudence 1 yon mj- 
husband.Sirrah 1 I'll have joubanged, you rogue ;. 
I'm a lady. Let me know who has given me » 
sleeping draught, and conveyed me hither, yoit 
dirty varfet 1 

Job. A sleeping draught! yes, jan drunken jaou, 
you had a sleeping draught whh a plague to ye. 
What, has not your lamb's wool done werkmg 



1 flayed, youx 
le talk in hers 



Did knnck most mightily. 
Lady L. Why, villain, rascal, screech-owl, who 



'b. Ha,h8,ha! whatidoes she call her maida 
the conjurer has made her mad as well as 

Zrfult/ L, He talks of conjurer* ; sure I am be- 
witched ! ha ! what clothes are- beie t a Btisey- 
. „ , , red baize petticoat ; 

I am removed from my own house by witchcraft. 
What muat I do 1 What will become of mo 1 

[Horns icind vnihoui. 
Job. Hark ! the hunters and the merry horns 
e abroad. Why, Nell, you laiy jade, "fe break 
of day; to work, to work ; ciMne, and spin, yoii 
Irab, or I'll tan your hide 6r you. What a, 
ilame, must I be at work two hsurs beftffe you 
n Me morning 1 

Lady L. Why, Sirrah, thou impudent villain, 
doat thou not know me, you rogue * 

Jab. Know you, yes I know voii well enough, 
and I'll make you know me before ^ have done 
with yon. 

Lady L. I am Sir John Loverute's 'ady , how 



lelhi 
JtA. Sir John Lovetule's iadj ! 



> Nell, r 



o; *^.OOg IC 



THE DEVIL TO PAY. 



[so 



K1U 



quite 80 bad neittier ; she plagoes eveiy oi 

comes neat har — the whole country curaeB 

Lady L. Nay, then I'll hold no louge 

rogue, you insolent villain, I'll t«ach you 



1 overjoyed: ehe's i 



^Apart 



d Epealc to 



Job. Th 



tkebedslqf. 



I other Ih 



;e at Mji 



'.r Mnee 

never hatl an ill word from her before.' Cooio 
strap, I'll try your mettle; I'll sober you, I war 
rant you, quean. 

[He straps her; she fiies at him 

Lady L. I'll pull your throat out ; I'll tear oul 

your eyes ; I am a lady, Sirrah, O murder , 

j__. t.ij. j(,],[j Loveruie will hang you for 



tbis. Murder I mcmierl 

Job. Come, hussy, leave fbolmg, 
your spinning, or else I'lJ lamb yc 



indo 



. .._ — J-- -- — inch long. 

Take it up you jade. 

[Sfte Jlings it down. He straps her. 
LadijL. B.old,holdi I'll lio any thing. 
Job, O ! I thought I should bring you to your- 

ioSy £. What shall I do'! I can't spin. 

[Aside 

Job. Ill into my stall ; 'tis broad day now. 
[Works and sings.\ Hey-day, I think the jade's 
braiii is turned. What, have you forgot to spin. 

LadyL. But I have not forgot to run. I'll 
e'en try iny feet. I shall find somebody in tht 
town, sure, that will succour me. [She runs out. 

Job. What! docs she run for ill—I'll after her. 
[He ™7« out. 
SCENE FZ— Sir John LoTEsuLE'affouse. 
Nell discovered in Bed. 

Nell. What pleasant dreams I have had to- 
night ! Mefhought t was in Paradise, upon a bed 
of violets and roses, and the sweetest husband by 
my side ! Ha, bless me ! where am 1 ^ 

W hat sweets are these 1 Ko garden in the spring 
can equal them.— Am I on a bed ^— The slieets 
are sarcenet, sure ; no linen ever was so fine.— 
What a gay rflken robe have I got — O heaven ! 
I dreiun !— Yet if this ba a dream, I would not 
wish to wake again. Snre I died last night and 
went tn heaven, and tbis is it. 
Enter Lucy. 

Liicy, Now, must I awake an alarum that will 
not lie still again till midnight at soonest; the first 
greeting 1 suppose will bo jade, or slut. [Aside.] 
— M adam I madam f 

NcU. O gemini ! who 'h this 1 What dost say, 
awaetheart! 

Luy. Sweetheart! O lud, sweetheart! The 
best names I have had these three months from 
her, havebeen slut or jade. [Aside.] — What gown 
and rufiles will vour ladyahip wear to-day 1 

Ndl. What does she mean 1 Ladyship ! gown 
and ruffles 1 — Sure I am awake ! — Oh ! I remem- 
ber the canning man, now. 

tiuc^. Did your ladyship speak 1 

Nell. Ay,diild; I'll wear the same I did yes- 

'Lucy. Mercy upon me!— Child !— Here's a 

Enter Lettccb. 
Ld. Is my lady awake 1 — ^Have you had her 
sline or her ^ppet at your head yet f 

[Ajiart to Ldct. 



Ijucy. Oh, ) 
kindest humou 
her— Now is your time 

Let, New 's my time , . . , 

tooth beat out 1 [Apart.] Madan 

NeU. What dost say, my dear 1-0 Either 
What would she have! 

Lei. What work will your ladyship please to 
have done toJayl 

NeU. Work, child! 'tia hoUday; no work lo- 

Lel. Oh, mercy ! Am I. or thee awake 1 or do 
we both dream 1 — Here 's a blessed ciiange 1 

[Apart to Luct. 

Zrttcji, If it conUnues, we shall be a happy 
femily. [Apart to Lbtticb. 

Lei. Your ladyship's chocolate is ready. 

NeU. Mercy on me! what'sthaf! Some gar- 
ment, I suppose. [Aside,] Put it on then, sweet- 

Let. Put U on, iWadam 1 I have taken it off; 
'tis ready to drink. 

Nell. I mean, put it by ; I don't care for drink- 



Enler Cook. 
Cook. Now I go, like a bear to the slake, (o 
know her scurvy ladyship's commands about din- 
ner. How many rascally names muai I be called 1 
[Aside. 
Let. Ob. John Cook! you'll be out of your 
wits to find my lady in so sweet a temper. 

[Apart to CooH. 
Cook. What a devil, are they all mad 1 

[Apart to Lettice. 
I^acy. Madam, here 's the cook come about 

NeU. Oh ! there 'a a fine cook I He looks like 
10 of your gentlefolks. [Asidel] — Indeed, ho- 
ist man, I'm very hungry now, pray get me a 
sher upon the coals, a piece of milk cheese, and 
me white bread. 

Cook. Hey ! what 's to do here'? my bead turnh 

und. Honest man ! I looked ibr rogue and 

rascal, at least. She 's strangely changed in her 

_ IB well as her humour. [Aside.] — I'm afraid. 

Madam, cheese and bacon will sit very heavy on 

your ladyship's stomach in a morning. If you 

please. Madam, I'll toss you up a white fricassee 

of chickensj in a trice, IVladam; or what doe^ 

your ladyship think of a veal sweetbread t 

NeU. Even what you will, good cook. 

CofA. Good cook ! good cook I Ah ! 'tis a 

peet lady. [Apoi (. 

Enter Butleh. 
Ii 1 kiss me. chip, ! am out of my wits — We 
have the kindest, sweetest lady. 

[Apart to Butleh. 

B'tt. You shamming rogue, I think you afe 

out of your wits, all of ye ; the maids look mei- 

lily too. [Apart to Coot 

Lacy. Here 's the butler, Madam, to know 

your laclyship's orders. 

Nell. Oh ( pray, Mr. Butler, let me have aoma 
imall beer when my breakfest comes in. 

But.TAt. Butler! Mr, Butler! 1 shall be 
urned into stone with amazement. [Asidel] — 
Would not your ladyship rather have a glass of 
rontiniac, or Montepulchiano, 
Nell. O dear ! what hard names are there ] 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



THE DEVIL TO PAY. 



-Well, 

Elder Coachman. 
But, Go, get you in, and be rejoiced, as I am. 

[Apart to COAOHMAN. 

Coaidi. TliB cook lias l>een making hia game 

I know not how long. Wliat,(loyouTiBiitBrtool 

[Apart to Butler. 

Imny. Mttdam, tlie coacliman. 

Cooch. 1 come to know if your ladjsiiip goes 
out to-day, and which you'll have, the coach or 
chariot, 

Nea. Good lack-a-daj !— I'l! rido in the cosch, 
if you please. 

Coach. The sky will fkU. that's certain. [Exit. 

JVe«. I can harcliy think I am awake — "- 
wcH-pleaaed they afl seem to wait upon 
notable cunning man !— My head turns round 
1 am quite giddy with my 






TiMgk late I was a ctMler's wife. 

In collage most oiscure-o, 
Invlam Uuff goum, and ahoti-ear'd coif, 

Hard laboar did endur-a. 
The jcene is chang'd, I'm alter'd quite, 
^ And from poor hmUe NeO-a, 
VU I^Qm to danae, to read, and vrrite. 

And from aU bear He beU-a. (Ex 



But. Oh, Sir 

ZrtMy. There never was the like. Sir ! You'll 
lie over-joyed and amazed ! 

Sir J. What, are yo mad 1— What 's th. 
with ye?— How now % here 's a new face 
laraly !— What 's the meaning of all Ihia 
. Bui. Oh, Sir! the family's turned 
down I We are almost distracted ; the happiesi 

£u™. Ay, my lady, Sir : my lady 

Sir X What, is she dead 1 

But. Dead! heaven forWd!— O! she's the 
oest woman ; the swreetest lady [ 

Sir J This is arfonlBhing! — I must go and 
inquire into this wonder. If this be true, I shall 
rejoios indeed. 

But. 'Tis true, Sir, upon my honour. Long 
fire Sir John and my lady I Huiza ! [Exev- ' 

Be-enler Nell. 
Nell. I well remember the cunning man wai 
ed me to beat ali out with confidence, or wor 
be said, would follow. — I am ashamed, and knc 
not what to do with all this ceremony ! I c 
amazed and out of my senses ! — I looked in t 
glass, and saw a gay fine thing J knew not i 
Methought m^ fecewaa not at all like that I have 



have occasioned ! 

Nell, Sir, 1 ehall always be proud to do every 
thing that may give you delight, or your family 

Sir J. By heaven I am charmed !— Dear crea- 
ture, if thou continuest thus, I had rather enjoy 
thee than the Indies. But can this be real t- 
May I believe my senacB t 

Nell. All that's good above can witness lor 
rae, I am in earnest. [Kneels, 

Sir J, Rise, my dearest.— Now am I happy 
indeed. 



DoBT.— Sir John Loyequle 


and 


Ne 


Sir J 


Was ecer man posseted of 
Soi:weet,so]d7,dav«/i 












NeU 


Dear Sir, you maiemepra 
Be you tut hind, 
Andyou!^U&id 

AUthegoodlamUtUol 


ud. 


















Skaaendbulwilkmyii 


fe. 




Sir J 


Give me thy lips. 
Flrs(Iel»te.dei^§irflive 






Nell 


'eni 





Nell. TharikyoK, dear Sir. 

I vom and protest 
I ne'er nai to kiss-d. 
Again. Sir! 
Sir J. Again, ana again, my dearest , 
OmayitbislforUfe! 
Wkai joy Ihua In &'jm thee • 
NelL What plaisurt to behdd thee! 

lacUn'd again to fass .' 
Sir J. How TOiiiAing the iUss ! 
Nell. I liUle though! tKismerning 

"Tawildeeer come to tias. tEieunl 

Enter Lady Loverui.b. 
Lady L. Here 's a fine rout and rioting 1 You 
Sirrah, butler, you rague 1 
But. Why, how now 1 Who are you 1 
Lady L, Impudent varlet ! don't you know 



of doa 



. Lady I — Here, turn this mad w 



Lady L. You rascal — take that, Sirrah. 

{Plings a glass at him. 
Foot. Have a care, husay ; there 'a a good pump 
vithout ; we shall cool your courage for you. 
Lady L. You, Lucy, have you forgot me too. 



! Why, 1 never re- 
> you before in my 



Re-eni&r LocY. 
LAicy. Oh, Madam I here 'e my n: 



NAl. Oi 
Vol. I. . 



iter SrH John Lotehule. 
linil Ihia fine gentleman ii 



Lady L. Oh, the wicked alut ! I'll give you 
lo remember me, 1 will, hussy. 

IPuUs her head-dress off. 
Lfliey, Murder! nlurderl help! 

Re-enter Sir John Lovekule and Nsr.L. 

Sir J. How now ? What uproar 'e this 1 

LadyL. You, Lettiec, you slut! won't you 
know me neither 1 [Strikes her. 

Let. Help! help! 

Sir J. What 's to do there f 

But. Why, Sir, here's a mad woman calls 
herself my lady, and is beating and cuffing us all 






■ thee.— I 



J. Thou my wife % poor ci 



■, ip 



h,l^,OOglc 



114 



THE DEVIL TO PAY. 

to expect redress 



l,ady L. Then it is in vain 
from thee, thou wicked contriver of all my misery, 

Nell. How am 1 amaicd 1 Can that be I there, 
in my clothes, that have made all this dieturbance 1 
And yot I am here, to my tliinkinR, in these fine 
liothes. How can this be 1 I am so confounded 
and affrighted, that I begin lo wish I was with 
Zekel Jofaon again. [Aside. 

Lady L. To whom ahall I apply myself, or 
whither can I fly 7— Heaven 1 what do I see 1 Is 
not that i yonder, in my gown and petticoat I wore 
yesterday 1 How can it be? I cannot be in two 

Sir J. Poor wretch ! She 'b stark mad. 

Lady L. What, m the devil's name, was I 
here before \ came 1 Let me look in the glass. 
— Oh, heavens I I am aatanished 1 I don't Enow 
myself I— if tfiia be I that the glass shows me, I 

Sir J. What incoherent madness is this ? 



; and perhaps 
fe: lean assure 
3r for it 



Job. Ay, hussy, and 
NeU. O dear 






ap, you 



isbund will beat 

pardon her ; she 
vujuici ta^l, night, and has 
and calls herself my Lady 



Job. I hope your bono 

was drinking ~"'" ' 

been mad eve 
Loverule. 

Sir J. Poor woman! take care of he/; do m 
hurt her; she may be cured of this. 

JiA. Yes, and please your worship, you ah: 
see me cure her presently.— Hussy, do you si 

, NeU. O [ pray, Zekel, don't beat me ! 
■ ■ Sir J. What says my love 1 Does she infe 
thee with madness too f 

NeU. I am not well; pray lead me in, 

[fiicuni Nell and Maid 
JiA). I beseech your worship don't take it 
of me; she shall never trouble you more. 
Sir J. Take her home, and use her kindly. 
Lady L. What will become of me 1 

\ExeaJd JOBEO_'J and Ladt LofUBDT. 

Enter Footman. 
Foot. Sir, the doctor who called here last nisi 
Jeares you will give him leave to speak a word 
it bu^eas. 
? Bring him in 

Enter DouTOB. 

Doc, Lo 1 on my knees, Sir, I beg forgivenf 

for what I have done, and put my life mto your 

Sir J. What mean yo 

Doc. I have eiereised my magic art upon your 
lady ; I know you have too much honour to take 
away my life, since 1 might still have concealed 
it, had r pleased. 

fSr J. You have now brought me to a ghmp 
of misery loo great to bear, is aJI my happmt 
then turned into viwon only! 

Doe. Sir, 1 beg you. fear not; if any hai 
™«™s on it. T freely give you leave to hang me. 
irJ. Inform me what you have done. 



into the likeness of my lady's ; and taal 
night, when the storm arose, my spirits convoyed 
■'em to each other's bed. 

Sir J. Oh, wretch, thou hast undone me ! I 

n fallen from the haght of all my hopes^ and 
_ust sUll be cQtseil with a tempstoous wife, a 
fury whom 1 never knew quiet since I hail iier. 

Doe. U that be all, 1 can continue the cliarm 

r both their lives. 

Sir J. Let the event be what it will, I'll hang 
you, if you do not end the charm this in ' 

Doc. 1 will, this minute, Si-' «^^ 
you'll find it the luckiest of yoi 

'e one material d 
I'd know. 
Doe. Yonr pleasure. Sir ? 
Sir J. Perhaps the cobbler has — —jaa nnder- 

Dos. I do assure you, no | for ere she was con- 
veyed to his bed, the cobbler was got up lo work, 
and he haa done nought but beat her ever aince j 
and you are like to reap the fruits of his labour. 
He'll be with you in a minute.— Here he comes. 

Re-eider JobsOn, 
Sir J. So, Jobson, where's your wifef 
Job. An't please your worship, she's here at 
le door ; but indeed I thought I had lost her 
list now ; for as she came into the halJ, she fell 
ilo suii a swoon, that 1 thought she would never 
ime out on't agiun ; but a tweak or two by the 
ose, and half a doien straps, did the buanees al 
Lst— -Here, where are you hussy 1 

Re-enter Lady Loverdle. 
But, [HbWs up the candle^ but lets it fall when 



s lier-l O heaven anJ earth I is" this my 
I My wife changed to 



Doc. 
tliaisliesE 






OS the cobbler's wife, a 






ladyl 

Jofi. What does h. 
my lady 1 

Cook. Ay, I thought the other was too good for 

Lady L. Sir, you are the person I have most 
offended, and here confess I have been the worst 
of wives in every thing, but that I always Itept 
myself chaste. If you can vouchsafe once mora 
to take me to your bosom, the remainder of my 
days shall joyfully be spent in duty and observanco 

Sir J. Rise, Madam ; 1 do forgive you ; and if 
you are sincere in what you say, you 11 make me 
happier than all the enjoyments in the world 
without you could do. 

Job. What a plague I am 1 to lose my wife 
thusi 

Re-enter LuCT and LbTTICE. 

Lacy. Oh, Sir, the strangest accident has hap- 
pened—it has amazed us I— My lady was in ao 
great a swoon, we thought she had been dead. 

Let. And when she came to herself, she proved 

Job. Ha, ha, ha ! a bull, a bull ! 
Re-enter Nell. 

Nell. My head turns round ; T must go home. 
O. Zekel, are you there 1 

Job. O lud 1 is that fine lady my wife t Egad, 
I'm afraid to come near her. What can be the 
meaning of this 1 

Sir J. This is a happy change, and I'll have it 



h,l^,OOgLC 



THE DEVIL TO PAY. 



wiebrated with all the joy I proclaimed for r 
lalB short-lived vision. 
LadyL, To me 'tis (he happiest day I e\ 

Sir J. Here Joham, lake thy fine wife. 

Job. Bat one word, Sir.: Did not your wi 

ship make a buck of me, under the rose 1 

Sir J. No, upon my honour, nor ever kissed 
her lips till I came from hunting : but sine 
iias been the means of bringine about this happy 
change, I'll give thee five hundred pounds home 
with Tier, to buy a stock of leather. 

Job. Brave boys I I'm a prince.— The prince 
of cohlerel Come hither and kiss me, Nell; I'll 

Nell. Indeed, Zekel, I have been in such a 
dream that I'm quite weary of it. Forsooth, 
Madam, will you please to take yout clothes, and 
let me have mme again, 

[7^ Lady Loverd!.b. 

Job. Hold your tongue, you (bol, they'll serve 
you to go to church. [Apan to Nblt.. 

LadyL, No; then shall keep them, and I'll 
preser.ve thine as relics. 

Job. And can your ladyship foi^ve my strap- 
ping your honour so very muchi 

todjiZ,, Most freely. The joy of Ihis blfsse J 
change sets all things right again. 

Sir J. Let us forget every thing tiiat is past, 
and think of nothing now l)ut joy and pleasure. 

Lady L. iei «wrji face vith imSes appear. 
Be jo^mevBra breast. 



l^ynoremet 
Ourpreiem 



Ihope yoa'a givemehaveto »peak. 

If I may be so bold : 
Noiigkl bat tie devil, and tkit rood atran. 

Could ei'er lame a scold. fEKeant. 



PROLOGUE. 

SPOKEN BY MR. THEOPHILOe CIBBEB. 
In ancient Greece the comic muse appear'd. 
Sworn Ibe to vice, by virtue's friends rever'd ; 
Itnparlial she indulg'd her noble rage. 
And satire was theliusinesa of the stage. 
No reignmg ill was from her censure fee, 
No sea, no age of man, and no degree; 
Whoe'er by pas^on was, or folly, fed. 
The laurell'd chief, or sacerdotal head. 
The pedant sophi^ or imperious dame, 
She lash'd the evil, nor conceai'd the name. 

How hard the fiile of wives in those sad times, 
When saucy poets would chastise their crimes ! 
-trr, 1. cormi^jig [nate, each rampant jilt, 

1 inded, on the stage, with guill ? 



mthect 






Lrnk'd to _ ^ , „.. 

A wilful headstrong termagant, aiid scold : 
Whom, though her husband did what man could 

The devil only could reclaim like vou ; 
Lite you, whose virtues bright embellish hfe, 
And add a bkasing lo the name of wife. 

A merry wag, to mend vexatious brides. 
These scenes begun, which shook your father's 



Andw 



^des 



obsequious to your taste, prolong 
Your niirlh, 1^ courting the supplies of song : 
If you approve, we our desires obtain. 
And by your pieasorea shall compute our gain. 



, Google 



THE FAIR PENITENT: 

A TRAaEDT, 

IN FIVE ACTS. 

BY NICHOLAS ROWE. 



This tragedy, fonnfled on the fklal Doobv of MaBsinger, » 
FioMa ; Baa is consiflcreii by Dr. Johneon, oneof the most pie 

The stery is domeBtic, Hiiil aisimilaled to rninmon life ; am 
H aappnaed to have lieen eipanded inlo Jjivelace. by Richan 
but the Btiliah Mr willacartely syniiiaUiise with Calista, fb 



the Ihaatre in Lincoln 1 j- 
a. ThocharaclerofliOthatl 



hehaiiiour ofCslisti 



SCIOLTO 


DRAMATIS PERSONjE. 

UNCOLN'S-INN-PIBLDB, 170a COVENT G IRDKN 1799 

Mr.Bowmai Mr. Pope. 


DBUS.V LANE 1815. 

Mr Pyx. 
Mt miiock 


HoaATIO, 




Mr EiUsbm. 












Jtfwir Wflbi™. 


L«vmii 

LoClLLi, 


JHrtPriace M«s C™. 


m'» c"^ 



ACT 1, 
SCENE I.— A Garden belunging to Scn>i.r< 
Paleure, 
Enter AltamOnt and Horstio. 
Alf. Let this atiBpieioua day be ever sacred, 
No mourning, no miafbttunes, happen on it : 
Let it be mark'ci for triumphs and rejoicings | 
Let happy lovers ever make it holy, 
Choose it to bless their hopes, and crown th 



Sciolto's noble hani^that raiB'itlieo_Grat. 
Half dead and drooping d^ar thy father's grave, 
Complelsa its boanty, and restores th^ name 
To that high rank and lustre which it boasted, 
Before ungrateful Genoa had Ibmot 
The merit of thy god-like father's arms; 
Before that country, which he long had SBrv'd 
In watohfiil councils and in winter camps, 
Had east off his white age to want and wrelched- 

■ And made their court to fections by his ruin. 
All. Oh, great Smoho! Oh, my more than 
felherl 
Let me not live, but at thy very name 
; My eager heart springs up, and leaps with joy. 



r,l^,OOgLC 



THE FAIR PENITENT. 



When I forget the vast, vast debt I owe thee— 
Forget! (but 'tia impossible) then let me 
Fotgetthe use and privilege of reason, 
Bo driven from the conmiBrce of mankind, 
To wander in the desert among brutes, 
To be the acom of earth, and curse of heaven 1 
■ Hot. So open, so unbounded waa hia goodneas, 
It reach'd ercn me, because I was thy fnend. 
When that great man I lov'd, thy nohle father, 
Bequeath'd thy gentle aster to my arma, 
Hie last dear pl^ge and l^acy of friendship, 
That hoppj tie maiJe me Suiolta'a son: 
He cali'd us hia, and, with a parent's fondness, 



Alt. By heaven, he found my fortones so 
abandon'd, 
That nothing but a miracle could raise 'em: 
My fetber'a Bounty, and the state's ingratitude, 
Had stripp'd him bare, nor left him even a grave. 
Undone myself, sud sinking with his ruin, 
I had no wealth to bring, nothing to auccoui him. 
But frnidesB teara. 

flbr. Yetwhat thou couldet thou did'st. 
And did'st it like, a eon ; when his hard credi- 
Urg'd and assisted by Lothario's &ther, [tora, 

gi'oe to thy house, and rival of thy greatnesa,) 
y sentence of the cruel law forbade 
His venerable corpse to reel in earth, 
Thdii gav'at thyself a ransom for Ms bones ; 
■ Heaven, who beheld the pioua act, approv'd it 
And bade Sdolto'a bounty be its proxy, 
To bless thy lilial virtue with abundance. 
Alt. But see, he cornea, the author of my hap- 

The man who sav'd my life from deadly sorrow. 
Who Hds my days be bless'd vrith peace and 

plenty, 
And satisfies my soul vrith love and beauty. 
Enter SciOLTO; he embraces Altamont. 
Set. Joy to thee, Altamont ! joy to myselfl 
Joy to this happy mom, that mates thee mine ; 
That kindly grants what nature hod denied me. 
And makes me fiither of a son like thee. 

Alt. My father ! Oh let me unlade my breast, 
Pour out the fulness of my soul before you : 
Show every tender, every grateful thought, 
This wondrous goodness stirs. But 'tia im- 
possible. 
And utteranoe all is vile; since I lan only 
Swear you reign bore, but never tell how much. 
Sci. O, noble youth I I sweat, since first I 
knew thee. 
Even from that day of sorrow when I saw thee 
Adom'd and lovely in thy fiUal tears. 
The mourner and redeemer of thy fether, 
I set thee down and seai'd thee for my own ; 
Thou art my son, even near me as Calista. 
Horatio anJLavinia too are mine: 

[Embrotss HoH, 
All are my children, and shall share my heart. 
But wherefore waste we thus this happy day 1 
The lauching minutes aninmon thee to joy, 
And wSi new pleasures court thee as they 
pass : ring. 

Thy waiting bride even chides thee for aelay- 
And swears thou com'st not with a bridegroom'a 

All. Oh ! could I hope there was one thought 
' of Altamont, 
One kind remembrance in Calista's breast, 



The winds, with all their wings, would lie too 

To bear me' to her feet. For, oh, my iathec ! 
Amidst the stream of joy that bears me on, 
Biesa'd as I am, and honour'd in your friendship. 
There is one pain that hangs upon my heart. 

SciB. What means my son 1 

Ali. When, at your intercession, 
Last night, CaUsla yielded to my bappineas. 
Just ere we parted, as I aoal'd my vows 
With rapture on her lips, I found her cold. 



As a dead Ic 






A rising storm of pBsaon shook her breast. 
Her eyes a piteous shower of lears let fall, 
And tlien she sigh'd as if her heart was breaking. 
With all the teiS'rest eloquence of love 

), and eyes that ftffiin 

Sadly replied, her sorrows were her own. 
Nor in a tiither's power to dispose of 

Sci. Away 1 it is the coz'nage of their aei ; 
One of their roBimon arts they practise on us : 
To Mgh and weep then when thdr hearts beat 

With expectation of the coming joy, [bred, 

Thou hast in camps and fiEnting fields been 
Unknowing in the subllelles of women | 
The virginliride, who swoons with deadly fear. 
To aee t^ end of all her wishea near, 
When, blushing, from the %ht and pubhc eyes, 
'To the kind covert of the ni^t ahe flies, 
With equal fires to meet the bridegroom moves, 
Melta in his arms, end with a loose she loves. 



.. _ Mce to face. 

And gall 'em with my triumph o'er Calista. 

Ros. You lov'd her once. 

Loth. 1 lik'd her, would have married her, 
But that it pleaa'd her father to refuse me, 
To make this honourable fool her husband. 
For which, if I forget him, may the shame 
I mean to brand bia name with, stick on mine. 

Ros. She, gentle soul, was kinder than her 

Loth. She was, and oft in private gave me 
hearing; 
Till, by long list'niogto the soothing tale. 
At length her easy heart waa wholly mine. 

Bos. I've heard you oft describe her, haughty, 
insolentj [wonder, 

And fierce vnth high disdain : it niovea my 
That virtue, thus defended, should be yielded 
A prey to loose desires. 

toth. Hear then. Til tell thee: 
Once, in a lone and secret hour of night, 
When every eye was closed, and the pale mooit 
And stars alone shone conscious of the theft. 
Hot with the Tuscan grape, and hinh in blood, 
Bap'Iy I stole unbeed^ to her charnber. 

Ros. That minute sure was lucky. 

Lolh. Oh, 'twas great ! 
I found the fond, believing, love-sick maid. 
Loose, unaltic'd, wann, tender, full of wishea; 
Fierceness and pride, the guardians of her 



r,l^,0(1gLC 



THE PAIR PENITENT. 



Are gehUv lifted up and down by tides. 
I snatch'd the glorious, golden opportunity. 
And with prevailing youthful ariiour presB d her; 
Till, with short agha, and muromring reluctance. 
The yielding fair one gave me perfect happiness. 
Even all the live-Ion^ night we pass'd tn bliss. 
Ill ecataaea too fierce lo mst for ever; 
At length the morn and cold indifT'rence come : 
When, fully sated with the luscious banquet, 
1 hastily took leave, end left the nymph 
To thitJt on what was past, and aigh alone. 

Ros, You saw her soon agidn 1 

Lath. Too soon I saw her: 
For, oh I that meeting was not lite Che {bnuer: 
1 found my heart no more boat high with transport, 
No more I sigh'd and langoish'd for enjoyment ; 
'Twas past, and reason took her turn to reign, 
While every weakness tell before her throne. 

Ros. What of the lady 1 

iMth, With uneasy fondness 
She hung upon me, wmt, and agh'd, and awore 
She was undone; talk'd of a priest and marriage; 
Of flying with me from her lather's power; 
CalI'd every saint and blessed angel down, 
To witness for her that she was my wife. 
I started at that name. 

Rus, What answer made you 1 

lioth. None; but, pretending sudden piun and 

Escap'd the persecution. Two nights sinie, 
By mesBage urg'd, and frequent importunity, 
' Again 1 saw her. Straight with tears and Eighs, 
With sweUing breasts, with swooning and di«- 

tiaction, 
With all the subtleties and powerful arts 
Of wilful woman, lab'ring for her purpose. 
Again she told the same dull, nauseous tale. 
Unmov'd, I begg'd her spare th' ungrateful subject, 
Since I cesolv^. that love and peace of mind 
Might flourish long inviolate betwiit iia, 
Never to load it with the marriage ch^; 
That I would stUl retain licr in m;f heart, 
My ever gentle mistress and my friend ; 
But for those other names of wife and husband, 
They only meant ill nature, cares, and quarrels. 

Ros. How hore she this reply 1 

Loik, At first her rage was dumb, and wanted 
words ; floud ; 

But when the storm found wav, 'twas wild and 
Mad as the priestess of the Delj^uc god, 
Enthusiaa^c passion sweli'd her breast, 
Enlars'd her voice, and ruffled all her ferm. 
Proudj and disdainful of the love I profier'd. 
She calt'dme, villain ! monster 1 base betrayer I 
At last, in very Uttemeaa of soul. 
With deadly imprecadons on herself, 
She vow'd severely ne'er to see me more ; 
Then lad me fi; this minute ; I obey'd, 
And, bowing, left her to grow cool at leisure. 

Roi. She has relented since, else why this 

To meet the keeper of her secrets here 
'J'his morning 1 
Loth. See the person whom yon nam'd. 



Welt, my ambassadress, what must we treat of 
Come you to menace war and proud defiance, 
Or does the peaceful olive grace your messes 1 
Is vour fair mistress calmer 1 does she soften 1 



And must we love again t perhaps she m 
To treat in juncture with her new ally. 
And make her husband party lo th' ai 

Luc. Is t:' '■ ' ■ "^ 



t husband party l« th' freemen., 
a well done, my lord T have yoa 



lense of human nature t keep a little, 
tie pity to distinguish manhood ; [you, 

other men. Chough cruel, should disclaita 
judge you to he number'd vrith the brutes. 



hoih. 1 sfe thou'st 
That lesson my sad 



iearn'd to laiL 



At night she watches, all the long, long hours, 
And listens to the winds and beating run. 
With sighs as loud, ond tears that ^1 as &st. 
Then ever and anon she wrings her hands, 
And cries, False, blse Lothario! 
Loth. Oh,no[norel 

thoult spoil thy pretty face with crying. 



And barter his church CrNisure for thy freshness. 
Luc. What 1 shall 1 sell my imiocence and 

For wealth or titles, Co perfidious man 1 
To man, who makes his mirth of our undoingl 
The base, profess'd betrayer of our sen! 
Let me grow old in all misfortunes else. 
Rather flian know the sorrows of Calislal 

tioth. Does she send thee tochide in her behalf? 
I swear thou dost it with so good, a g™ce. 
That I could almost love thee for thy frowning. 

Luc. Bead there, my lord, there, in her own 
.sad Knes, [Gaiing a teller. 

Which best can leil the story of lier woes, 
That grief of heart which your uiikindnesa gives 

Loth, (fleiufe.] YovT craeUy— Obedience to 
myfalh^r—Give my haTid to Altamont. 
" ' heaven, 'tis well ! such ever be the gifts 

ith which I greet the man whom my soul 
hates. [Aside, 

it to go on- — teisk — heart — honaar — loo failh- 
toff— leeoftness — lo-iiwmm} — last iTouble—lost 
CalisU. 

Women, I see, can change as well as men. 
She writes me here, forsaken as I am, 
That I should bind my brows with mournful 

her hand to Altamont : 
instant— 



I angry words \ say to 



For she 

Yet tell the fe.. . 

Luc. How, my lord J 

Lol/i. Nay, no mort 

Calista, . . , 

The humblest of hef slaves shall wait her plea- 
If she can leave her happy husband's arms. 
To think upon so lo^ a thing as 1 am. 

Luc. Alas ! for pity come with gentler looks : 
Wound not her heart with this unmanly tri- 

And though you love her not, yet swear you do : 

So shall dissembling onca bo virtuous in you. 
Lolk. Ha ! who comes here 1 
Luc. The bridegroom's friend, Horatio, 

He must not see us here. To-morrow early 

Be at the garden gate. 
Loth. Bear to my love [her. 

My kindest thoughts, and swear I will not foil 
[Loth, pultiiig up Ike letter kostili/, drops 
it I Exeunt. 



i„^.OOglQ 



Enter Hoh*t!o. 
Hot. Sure, 'fc the very taror of 
Waking I dream, or J beheld Loth 
He seem'd oonftrring wiUi Caiiata's woi 
At my approach they atarted and retir'd. 



Id Lothario; 



they atarted and retir'd. 
iould he have here, and with her 1 
I know he bears the noble Altauiont 
Profess'd and deadly hate^What pper 's this I 
Ha ! To Lothario I— 'Sdeath ! Caliata'a name I 

[Beads. 

YoUT cruelty has at length determined nw; 
andlkaveTesohiedtkismomi'ngtayieldapejfect 
ebedi«nce to myfaiker, and to gite my hand to 
Mamsnt, in, spite ^ my tKoknese Jot the Jalse 
Lothario. Icould almoat vrish I had that heart 
and that ftonour to bcBtoiB vitth it, ahich yon 
have robbed me of; 

Damnation ! to the reit 

Bvt, oh ! ifiar; covid Irelrieve 'em, Ishoidd 
again be undone by the toofailhless, yet tuo lovely 
Lothario, This is the last ■aeakitess of my pen, 
and to-morrovi ehall be the last in lehick I wiU 
indulge my eyes. LucUla shall condimt yow, jf 
you are kind enough, to kt me see you .- it shaU 
be the last trouble you shall meet withfrom the lost 

is the sole avenger of such 

Oh, that the ruin were but all thy own I 
Thou wilt even make thy fethcr curse his age : 
At sight of this blaek scroll, the gentle Altamont 
(For, oh ! I know hia heart is set upon thee) 
Shall droop and hang hia diaeontenled head. 
Like merit aeorn'd by insolent authority, 
And never erace (he public with his virtues — 
What if I Bive this paper to her father? 
{t ibIlowB tTiaC his justiee dooms her dead, 
And breaks hia heart with aorrow ; hard return 
For all the good his hand has heap'd on na 1 

Hold, let me take a moment's thought 

Enter LiVlNlA. 
Lav. My lord! 
Tnisl meit Foys my heart that I ha¥e found you. 
Inquiring wherefore you had left the company, 
Before my brother's nuptial rites were ended, 
Th^ told me you had felt some audden illness. 

Hot, Itwereonjoat — No, letnie spare my friend, 
Lock np the fatal secret in my breast, 
Ifor tell him that which will undo his quiet 
Lav. What means my lord t 
Bar. Ha I aaid'st thou, my Lavinia 1 
Lav. Alas ! you know not what you make me 
suffer, [eyes 

Whence is that sighl And wherefore are your 
Severely raia'd to heaven % The sick man thua. 
Acknowledging the summons of his fete, 
Lifts up his feeble hands and eyes for mercy. 
And with confusion thinka upon hiseiit. 

Hot. Oh, no ! thou hast mistook my aiekneas 

These pangs are of the soul. Would I had met 
Sharpest eonvutaions, spotted pestilence. 
Or any other deadly foe to life, 
Etather than heave beneath thia load of thought. 
Lav. Alas! what is if? Wherefbre turn you 



PENITENT. 119 

Hot, Seek not to know what I would hide 

But most from thee. I never knew a pleasure. 
Aught that was joyful, fortunate, or good. 
But straight 1 ran to hiess thee with the tidings, 
And laid up all my happiness with thee : 



And let 'em brood ir 

Lav. It is enough ; chide not, and all is well I 
Forgive me if I saw you sad, HoiatiO; 
And ask'd to weep out part of your misfortunes; 
I wo' not press to know what yoa forbid me, 
Tiet, my lov'd lord, yet you must grant nie this. 
Forget your cares for this one happy day, 
Devote thia day to mirth, and to your Altamont ; 
For his dear sake, let peace be in your looks. 
Even now the jocund bridegroom waits your 

wishes. 
He thinks the priest has but half bless'd hia 

marriage, 
Till hia Mend hails hhn with the sound of joy. 

Hot. Oh, never, never, never! Thou art in- 



But there are such, such false onea, in the world, 
'TwouU fill thy gentle sou] with wild amazement. 
To hear their atory told. 

Lav. False ones, my lord ! 

Hor. Fatally fair they are, and in their smiles 
The graces, little lovea, and young desires in- 



le your Lavir 



from me T 
Why did you felsely call m 
And swear I was Horatio's better half. 
Since now you mourn unkindly by yourself 
And rob me of my partnership of ' 



;ut all that gaze upon 'em 
'or they are fklae, luiurio 



But all til _ 

And all' the heaven they hope for is vanety ; 
One Imer to another atiil succeeds. 
Another, and another after that, 
And the last fool ia welcome as the former ; 
Till, having lov'd hia hour out, he gives place. 
And raiimiea with the herd that went before him.) 
Lav. Can there be such, and have they peac^ 

Have they, in all the series of their changing. 
One happy hour 1 1f women are such things. 
How was I form'd bo difierent from my sex 1 
My httle heart is satisfy'd with yoa ; 
You take up all her room as in a cottage 
Which harbours some benighted princely stranger, 
Where the good man, proud of hia hospitelity, 
Yields all his homely dwelling to his guesl. 
And hardly keeps a corner for himself, 

Hor. Oh, were they all like thee, men would 
adore 'em, 
And all the business of th«r lives be loving ; 
The nuptial band ahould be the pledge of peace, 
And all domestic cares and quarrels cease ! 
The worid should learn to love by virtuous rules, 
And marriage be no more the jest of fools. 

[BxeunI 
< ACT II. 

SCENE I— A Hall. 
Enter CiLiSTA and LtJC[i.i,A. 

Cal. Ee dumb for ever, sdent as the grave ; 
Nor let thy fond, ofScioua love disturb 
My solemn sadness with the sound of joy. 
If thou wilt Booth me, tell some dismal tale ■ 
Of pining discontent, and black deapair: 
For, oh 1 1'vegone around through all my Ihoughla, 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



THE FAIR PENITENT. 



[flwrn 



But Bll ace iiidi^Dadon, love, or shame^ 
And my dear peace of mind is last for . __. 
I/uc. Why do you follow stili that wand'ring 

That has mlaled your weary etcps, and lea 
Geniglitcd in a wilderness of wo ; 
That false Lothario ! Turn from the deceiver ; 
Turn, and behold where gentle Altamont 
Sighs at your teet, and woos you to be happy. 

Cal. Away ! I think not of'^him, Myeadsoul 
Has form'd a dismal, melancholy scene, 
Such a retreat as I would wish to find ; 
An unftequenlod vale, o'ergrown with trees 
Mossy and old, within whoso lonesome shadi 
Ravena and biFda ill-omen'd only dwell ; 
No sound to break Ihe ^lence, but a brook 
That bubbUng winds among tile needs : no mark 
Of any human shape that had been there, 
Unless a skeleton of some poor wretch, 
Who had long since, like nxe, by love undone, 
Sought that ^ place out to despau and die ii 

I/uc, Alas, for pity I 

Cal. There I fiiin would hide me [shaii , 
From the base world, from malice, and from 
For 'tis ^le solemn counsel of nw soul 
Never to Uve whh pabhc loss of"^ honour: 
'Tis Hx'd to die, rather tl^ bear the insolence 
Of each affected she that tells my story. 
And blessea her good stars that she ia virtuous. 
To be a tale for rools ! Scorn'd by the women, 
And pitied by the men 1 Oh, insupportable ', 
Lac, Oh, hear me, hear your ever fiiithful 

Br alt the good I wish, by alt the ill 
My trembhng heart forebodes, let me entrea 
Never to see this Pithless man again ; 
Let me ibrbid his coming. 

CcU. On thy life 
[ chaise thee, no : my genius drives me on; 
I must, I will behold him once again ; 
Perhaps it is the crista of my lale, 
And this one interview shall end my cares. 
" t swells with indignati 



And never beat again. 

Luc. Trust not lo that : 
Rage ia the shortest paadon of our souls : 
Like narrow brooks that rise with sudden showers, 
It swells in haste, and fells again as soon ; 
Still as it ebbs the softer thoughts flow in. 
And the deceiver, bve, supphes its place. 

Cal. 1 have been wrong d enough l« arm my 

Against the smooth delnsion ; but, alaa ! 
(I^ide not my weakness, gentle maid, but pity me) 
A woman's softness hanga about me still; 
Then let me blush, and tell thee all my folly. 
[ swear T could not see the dear betrayer 
Kneel at my feet and sigh to be forgiven, 
But my relenting heart would pardon all. 
And quite forget 'twas he that had undone me. 

[Exit Lnc. 
Ha I Altamont 1 Galisla, now be wary. 
And guard thy soul's excesses with dissembling : 
Nor lei this hostile husband's eyes explore 
The warring pastdons and tumultuous thoughts 
That rage within thee, and detbrm thy reason. 

Enter Altamont. 

Alt Be gone, my cares, I give you to the winds, 

Far lo be borne, far from the happy Altamont ; | 



Calista is the mistress of the year ; 

She crowns the seasons with auspicions beauty. 

And bids even all my hours be good and joyful. 

Cal' If I were ever mistress of such happiness, 
Oh ! wherefore did I play th' unthrifty fool. 
And, vrasling all on others, leave myself 
Without one thought of joy lo give me comfort t 

AU, Oh, mighty Igve ! ShiOl that fair face 
profane 
This thy great festival with frowns and sadness t 
I awear it sha'not be^ for I will woo thee 
With sighs so movmg, with so warm a trans- 

That thou shajl catch the gentle flame from me, 
And kindle into joy. 

Cal. I tell thee, Altamont, 
Such hearts as oura were never pan'd above: 
III suited to each other; join'd, not match'd] 
Some sullen influence, a jbe to both. 
Has wrought this fatal marriage to undo us, 
Mark but the frame and temper of our minds. 
How very much we differ. Even this day. 
That fills thee with such ecstacy and transport, 
To me brings nothing that should make me 

Or think it better than the clay before, 
Or any other in the course of time. 
That duly took its (urn, and was forgotten. 
Alt, If lo behold thee as my pledge of happi- 

?o know none &ir, none excellent, bat thee ; 
If sliU to love thee with unwearied constancy. 
Through e'eiT season, evety change of life, 
" ' ■ ' grateful love, 

I for happy. 
Cal. 'Tis the day 
a which my father gave my hand to Alfamonl ; 



Bnier Scioi.TO, HoKATio, mid Lav(nja. 
Set. Let mirth go on, let pleasure know no 

But fill up every minute of this day, 
'Tis yours, my children, sacred lo your loves; 
The glorious sun himself for you looks gay ; 
He shines for Altamont and for Calista, 
Let there be music, let the master touch 
The sprightly stritig and softly breathing flute. 
Till harmony rouse every gentle pssaon ; 
Teach the cold maid lo lose bet feara in hive, 
And the fierce youth lo languish at her feet. 
Begin : even age itself is eheer'd with munc ; 
It wakes a glad remembrance of onr youth, 
Calls back past joys, and warms ns into trans- 
port, [.Ktufc. 
Take care my gates be open, bid all welcome ; 
All who rejoice with me lo-day are friends: 
Let each indulge his genius, each he ^ad, 
Jocund, and free, and swell the feast with mirth ; 
The sprightly bowl shall cheerfully go round. 
None shall be grave, nor too severely wise | 
Losses and disappointments, cares and poverty, 
The rich man's insolence, and meat man's acorn, 
le shall be forgotten all. To-morrow 
le too soon to Chink and to be wretched. 
Oh grant, ye powers, that I may see these happyj 
{PoinHng (o Altamont and CalistaJ 
mpletely bless'il, and I have hfe enough ! ' 
id leave the rest indiflerently to &te, 

[Exeanl. 



, Google 



THE FAIR PENITENT. 



Ri/r. What if, while all are here intent on 

IprivatBlj went forth, and sought Lothario 1 
This letter may be ibrg'd ! pariiapa the wanton- 

!>f his vain youth, to slam a lady's fame; 
Perhaps hie malice, to disturb my friend. 
Oh, no! my heart forbodes it must he true. 
Methought, eien now, 1 mark'd the starts of 
guilt [lation 

That shook her soul; though damn'd dissimu- 
Screen'd her dark tlioughta, and set to public 



A specious face of innocence and beauty. 

With such smooth looks and many a gentle 

The first ftir she beguil'd her easy lord; 
Too blind with love and beauty to beware, 
He fell unthinking tn the fatal anare ; 
Nor could believe that sueh a heavenly ^ce 
Had baroain'd with the devil lo damn lier wretch- 
eJrace. \BxU. 

SCENE 11— The GaTdenqfSciohvo's Palace. 
Enter LoTHaeco and Rossano. 

Loth, To tell thee then the purport of my 
thoufhta ; 
The loss ofthis fond paper would not give ma 
A moment of disquiet, were it not 
My inatrument of vengeance on this Altamont ; 
Therefore I mean to wait some opportunity 
Of apeaking with the maid we saw this morning. 

Roe, I wish you. Sir, to think upon the danger 
Of being seen | to-day their friends are round 'em ; 
And any eye that hghts by chance on you, 
Shall put your life and safety to the hazard. 

[Exeunt. 
Enter Horatio. 

Hot. Still I must doubt some mystery of mis- 
chief, 
Some artifice beneath. Lothario's father ! 
T knew him well ; he was sagacious, cunning. 
Fluent in words, and bold in jieaceflil counsels, 
But of a cold, unacttve hftnd m war ; 
Yet with these coward's virtues, he undid 
My nnsuspecling, valiant, honest friend. 
This son, rf fome mistakes not, is more hot, 
More open and unarlfiil — • 

Re-enter Lothario and RoasANO. 

Ha ! he 's here ! [Seeing him. 

Loth, Damnation 1 he again ! — This second 

To-day he has cross'd me like my evil genius. 
Hot. I sought you. Sir. 
Loth. 'Tis well then I am fijund. 
Hot. 'Tis well you are. The man who wrongs 

To the earth's utmost verge I would pursue. 
No plapo, though e'er so holy, should protect him ; 
No shape that artful fear e'er form'd shoidd hide 

Till he &ir answer made, and did me justice. 
Lolk. Ha I dost thou know me 1 that I am 
Lothario? 
As great a name as this proud city boasts of. 
Who is this mighty man, then, this Horatio, 
That I should tesely hide me from his anger, 
Lest he should chide me for hia friend's displea- 



IJor. The brave, 'tis true, do nev 
light 1 



Just are their thoughts, and open i 

tempers, 
Still are they found in the Mr face of day, 
And heaven and men are judges of their actions. 
Loth. Such let 'em be of mine; there's not a 

purpose 
Which my soul e'er fram'd, or my hand a< 



'hich my soul e'er fram'd, or my hi 
It I could well have bid the world 






When but this very morning I surpria'd thee. 
In base disboneat privacy, consulting 
And bribing a poor mercenary wretch, 
To sell her lad j'B secrets, stain hor hcniour. 
And, with a fo^'d contrivance, blast her virtoel 
At sight of me 5iou fled'st. 

Loth. Ha I fled from thee t 

Bar. Thou fied'st, and guilt was on thee like a 
thief. 
A pilferer, descried in some dark corner 
Who there had lodg'd, with mischievous intent, 
To rob and ravage at the hour of rest. 
And do a midnight murder on the sleepers. 

Loth. Slave ! villain ! {Offers to drav,. 

Bos. Hold, my lord ! think where you are. 
Think how unsafe and hurtful to your honour 
It were to urae a quarrel in this place, 
And shock the peaceful city with a broil. 

Loth. Then, since thou dost provoke mv ven- 

I would not, for this city's wealth, for all 
Which the sea waAs (u our Ligurian shore. 
But that the joys I reap'd with (hat fond vvantcn. 
The wife of Altaniont, should be as public 
As is the noon-day sun, air, earth, or water 

Think'st thou I meant that shame should be eon- 

Oh, no I by hell and vengeance, all I wanted 

Was aonie fit nicEsenger, to bear the news 

To the dull doting husband : now 1 have found 

And thou art he. 

Hot. I hold thee base enough 
To bre-ak through law, and spurn at sacred order, 
And do a brutal injury like tlus. 
Yet mark me well, young lord, I tlunk Calista 
Too nice, too noHe, and loo great of soul, 
To be the prey of such a thing as thou art. 
'Twas base and poor, unworthy of a man. 
To forge a scroll so villanous and loose. 
And mark it with a noble lady's name: 
These are the mean, dishonest arts of cowards, 
Who, bred at home m idleness and riot, 
Ransack for mistresses th' unwholesome stew 
And never know the worth of virtuous love. 

Loth. Think'st thou I forg'd the Ictterl 
Think so still, 
Till the broad shame come staring in thy bee, 
And boys shall hoot the cuckokl as he passes. 

Bar. Away ! no woman could descend so low. 
A skipping, dandng, worthless tribe you are; 
Fit only for yourseWes, yon lierd together ; 
And when the dreling glass warms your vain 

You talk of beauties that you never saw, 
And fencv raptures that you never knew. . 
Loth. But that 1 do not hold it worth mv 
leisure. 



„ Google 



THE FAIR PENITENT 



[act m. 



I could produre such damning proof-— 

Hor. ^Tia felae ! 
Vou blaet the feir with lies, because they sc 

'Hate you like age, like ugliness and impotenc 
Rather than make jou bleaa'd, they irould die 

And slop the propaga^n of mankind. 

iMth. It is the curse of fools to be secure, 
And tliat Im thine and Allaniont's, Dream on ; 
Nor think npon my vengeance Ull thou feel'st it. 

Hot. Hold, Sir ; another word, and then fiire- 
well. 
Though I think greatW of Calisla's virtue, 
And held it far beyond thy power to hurt; 
Yet, aa sbe shares the honour of my Altamont, 
That treasure of a soldier, bought ivith blood, 
And kept at life's expense, I must not have 

iMark me, young Sn) her very name profen'd. 
jearn to restrain the iieense of your speech ; 
'Tis held yon are too lavish. When you are met 
Among your set of fools, talk of your dress, 
Of dice, of whorea, of horses, ojid yourselves; 
'Tis safer, and becomes your nnderslandings. 
Loth. What if we pass beyond this solemn 

And in defli 

Indulge our ^ , „ , 

And use his sacred liiendship jbr our mirth 1 

Hot. 'Tis well. Sir, jou are pleasant — 

LfOth. By the joys 
Which my soul yet has unconlrol'd pursu'd, 
I would not turn a»de from my least pleasure. 
Though bU tby force were arin'd to bar my way ; 
But, Eke the birds, great nature's happy com- 

That haunt m vroods, in meads, and flowery 

RiUe the sweets, and tasM the choicest fruits, 
Ye-i Bcom to ask the lordly owner's leave. 
Hot. What liberty has vain presumptuous 

youth. 
That thou should'st dare pnxoke me onchastis'd^ 
But henceforth, boy, I warn thee, shun my walks. 
If in the bounds of this forbidden place 
Again Ihou'rt found, expect a punishment, 
Such as great souls, impatient of an injuir, 
Esact from those who vnong 'em much; even 

death, 
Or something worse : an injiu^'d husband's ven- 

Shall print a thousand wounds, tear thy fine Sirm, 
And scatter thee to all the winds of heaven. 

Loth. Is then my way iu Genoa prescrib'd 
By a dependent on the wretched Altamont 1 
A talking Sir, that brawls for him in taverns, 
And vouches for his valour's reputation 1 

Hot. Away 1 thy speech is fouler than thy 

Loth, Or, if there be a name more vile, his 



Hot, Now learn humanity, 

5 Offers to strike him ; RossiNO interposes, 
rates and boys are only taught with blovrs. 
Loth. DamnationI [They dra-a. 

Roa. Hold, this gees no further here, 
TjoiL Oh, Rosaano ! 
Or give me way, or thou'rt no more ray (Hand. 
RBf S<jdI1o'b servatilE, Sir, have taken th' 

Vou'll he opprees'd by numbers. Be advis'il 



Or I must force you hence. 

Loik. This wo' not brook delay ; 
West of the town a mile, among the rocks. 
Two hours ere noon, to-morrow, I expect thee, 
TI^ «ngle hand (o mine, 

.Hbr rll meet thee there. 

Loth. To-morrow, oh, my betlcr stars! to- 

Exert your influence ; shine strongly for me ; 
'Tis not a common conquest I would g^, 
Since love as well as arms must grace my tri- 



ll Oh, unthinking fool- 



nay vrake 

Could I bat prosper there, I vrould not doubt 
My combat with that laud vainglorious boaster. 
Were you, ye fair, but cautious whom ye trusE; 
Did you but think how seldom fools are just. 
So many of yonr sex would not in vain 
Of broken vows, and feithieas men, complain ; 
Of all the various wretches love has made. 
How few have been by men of sense belray'dT 
Convinc'd by reason, they your power confess, 
Fleas'd to be happy, as you re picas'd lo bless, 
And, conscious of your worth, can never loveyou 



ACT HI. 
SCENE I.~An A]nrlment in ScroLTO's 



... , . , ..9 too 

Have I not mark'd thee, wayward as thou art, 
Perverse and sullen all this day of joy 1 

ry heart was cheer d, and mirth went 

Sorrow, displeasure, and repining anguish, 
Sat on thy brow. 

Cat. Is then the task of duty half perform'dl 
as not your daughter given herself lo Altamont, 
Yielded the native freedom of her will 
To an impetious husband's lordly rule, 
To gratify a fetber's stern command 1 
" ' Dost thou complain "i 



A sigh breaks out, or a tear falls by cha 

For, oh ! that sorrow which has drawn your anger, 

Is the sad native of Calista's breast. 

Set. Now by the sacred dust of that dear siunt 
That was thy mother ; by her wondrous good- 

Her soil, her tender, most eoznplying sweetness, 
I swear, some sullen thought that shuns the light. 
Lurks underneath that sMness in thy visage. 
But mark me well, though by yon heaven I lova 

__ much, I tlunk, as a fond parent can ; 

Yet shouldst then (which the powers abov« 

fbrbid,) 

!un the honour of thy name with infamy, 
I'll cast thee ofF, as one whose impious hands 



Had re 






ic.i.= o;*^.OOglc 



THE PAIR PENITENT. 



Which, once divided, never jdn again. 
To-day I've made a noble youth ihy husband ! 
Cunstder well his worth ; reward his love ; 
Be willing lo be happy, and thoo ajt so. 

[Exit SOIOLTO. 
Cal, How hard ia the condition of our Sei. 
Through every slate of life the slaves of man! 
In all flie dear delightful days of youth, 
A rigid fether dictates to our wills, 
Aj d deaia ou t^ilg sure wit h j scanty h and. 

Proud with opinion of superior reason. 
Ho holds domes^ business and devotion 
All we are capable to know, and shuts os, 
Like cloister'd idiols, from the woi^d's scquaint- 

And all the joys of freedom. Wherefore are we 
Born with high souls, but to assert ourselves. 
Shake off this vile obedience they ciact, 
And claim an equal empire o'er the world 1 



Enter HoRiTiO. 
I here ! yet, ho 1 my tongue 



Teach m 



le power, that happy art of speech, 
To dress my purpose up in gracous words ; 
Such as may softly Bteal upon her soul, 
And lievor' waken the fempesluous pasaons. 
By heaven she weeps I — Rirgive me, fair CaBsta, 
If I prcBOme, on privilege of friendship, 
To join my grief to yours, and mourn the evils 
Tliat hurt your peaj:e, and qnench those eyes 



Hot. Then to be good is to be happy— Angels 
Are happier than mankind, because they're 
better. I 

Guilt is the source of sorrow ! 'tis the fiend, 
Th' avenging fiend, that fi)lk>ws us behind. 
With VPhips and stings. The biess'd know none 






rest in everlasting peace of mind, 
I find the height ol^ all their heave 



Cat. To steal, uniook'd for, , 



I my pnva 
lie friend, 



Speaks not the man of honour, 
But rather means the spy. 

Hot. Unkindly said I 
For, oh I as sure as you accuse me falsely, 
I come to prove myself Calista's friend. 

Cai. You are my husband's friend, the friend 
of Altsmont! 

fl&r. Are you not one t Arc you not join'd by 

Each interwoven with the other's &te1 
Then who ran give his friendship hut to 
Who can be AKamont's, and not Calista' 

Cai. Force, and the wills of our imperious 

May bind two bodies in one wretched chain ; 
But minds will still look bsck to their own choice, 
fllM-; When souls, that should agree to will the 

To have otie common object ibr their wishes. 
Look different ways, regardless of each other,- 
Think what a train of wretchedness ensues; 
Love siiali be iranisfied from the genial Ijed, 
The night shall be lonely and unquiet, 
And every day shall be a day of caress 

Cai. Then all the boasted ofiicc of thy friend- 
Was hut to' tell Calista what a wretch she is. 
Alas I what needed thati 

Hot. Oh 1 rather say, 
1 came to teil her how she might be happy; 
To sooth the secret anguish of her soul ; 
To comfort that ^r mourner, that forlorn one, 
And teach'her steps to know the paths of peace. 

Cal. Saythou, to whomthisparadiseis known, 
Where lies the blissfol region 1 Mark my Way to 



Cal. And what l)old parasite's ofiidoua timgue 
Shall dare to tai Cahsta's name with guilt! 
Hot. None should ; but 'Ub a busy (^iug 

That with Ucantious breath blows, like the wiiid, 
" - *■— ely on the palace as the cottage. 

What mystic riddle lurks beneath Ihy 

Which thou wouldsl seem unwilling to express. 
As if it meant dishonour to my virtue 1 
Away with this ambiguous shuffling phrase. 
And let thy oracle be understood. 

Hot. Lotliario! 

Cai. Ha I What wouldst thou mean by him ? 

Hot. Lothario and Calista ! — Thus they join 
Two names, which heaven decreed should never 

Hence have the talkers of this populous city 
A shameJiil tale to tell, for public sport. 
Of an unhappy beauty, a false &ir one. 
Who plighted to a noble youth her faith. 
When she had given her honour to a vrretch. 
Col, Death and confusion ! Have I liv'd to 
Uiisl 
Thus to be treated with unmanly insolence^ 
To l>e the sport of a loose ruffian's tongue I 
Thus to be us'd ! thus ! like the vilest creature. 
That ever vras a slave to vice and in&my. 

By honour and ftic truth, you wrong me 

, 1 my soul, nothing but strong necessity 
Could urge my tongue lo this ungrateful offiiyi. 
1 came vnth strong reluctance, as if death 
Had stood across my way, to save your honour. 
Yours and Sdolto's, yours and Allamont's; 

V -' 3 who ventures through a burning p-Ie, 

his tender wife, wilJi all her brood 
Of littie fondlings, from the dreadful ruin, 

Cal. Is this me famous friend of Altamon^ 
_ or noble worth and deeds of arms renowii'd ! 
Is this the tale-bearing offidoua fellow. 
That watches for inlelHgence from eyes 1 
This wretched Argus of a jealous husband. 
That fills bis easy ears with monstrous tales, 
And makes him toss, and rave, and wieak at 

length 
Bloody revenge on his defenceless wife. 
Who guiltless dies, because her foul ran mad *? 
lias I this rage is vain ; for if jonr feme 
lie worth your care, you must be calm. 



'Tisn. 



■e left to 



rs'd Lotl 



s you mean to be despis'd, be shunn'd, 
By all our virtuous maids and noble matrons ; 
nIcES you have devoted this rare beauty 
o infemy, diseases, prostitution — 
Cal. Dishonour blast thee, base, unmanne 



E'or oh ! 'Us E 



• IkHBlOb. 



lc.l,dr,l^,OOglC 



THE PAIS PENITENT. 



[*c 



Hit. Here kneel, siul in (he awful &ce of 

Breathe out a aoleinn vow, never to see. 

Nor think, if possible, on him that ruln'd thee : 

Or, by my Altamont's dear life, I swear, 

This paper j nay, you must not fly — This paper, 

Tk;, _.,!.. i,„ii j;..„i gyf shame. 

atpaper^ What 

Hast thou been forging to deceiie my father ; 
To turn liis heart againBt his wretched daughter; 
That Altamont and thou may share his weaithl 
A wrong [tke this wit] make me even forget 
The wcaknBss of my sei,— Oh, for a sword, 
To urge ray vengeance on the villain's head 
That tbrg'tl the scroll ! 

H-rr. Behold 1 Can this be fcrg'd 1 
See where Calisla's name — 

\^oiriitig IfiE Ulier near. 

Cal, To atoms thus, [TeaTiagti. 

Thus let me tear the vile, detested falsehood. 
The wicked, lying evidence of shame. 

Her. Contusion I 

CaL Hencefbrtii, Ihoo ofiicious Ibol, 
Meddle no owre, nor dare, even on thy lile, 
To breathe an accent that may touch my virtue. 
1 am myself the guardian of my honour, 
And will not bear so insolent a monitov. 

Enter Ai.tjmont, 
Alt. Where is my hie, my love, my charming 



'd I — and in tears !— Horatio 
My friend is in amaie— What can it mean'? 
Tell me, Calista, who has done thee wron^;, 
That my swifl sword may Gnd out the of^nder. 
And do thee ample joatice. 

Cat. Turn to him. 

All. Horatio 1 

CaL To that insolent. 

Ml- .Myftiondl 
Could he da tins t Have I not found him just. 
Honest as truth itself^ and could be break 
The sanctitv of friendship 1 Could be woand 
Theheartof AJtamontinhisCaMal 

Cat, I thought what justice I should And from 

Go tiiwn upon him, listen to his tale, 

Thou art perhaps conlederate in his mischief. 

And wilt believe the legend, if he tells it. 

All, Oh, impious '. what presumptuous wretch 
shall dare 
To offer at an injury like that t 
Frieethood, nor age, nor cowardice itself. 
Shall save him liBm the fury of my vengeance. 

Cat. The man who dar'il to do it was Horatio; 
Thy darling friend ; 'twas Altamont's Hoiatio. 
But mark me well ; while thy divided heart 
Dotes on a villain that has wrong'd me thus, 
No force shall drag me to thy hated bed. 
Nor can my cruel father'a power do more 
Than shut me in a cloister: there, Well pleas'd, 
Rel^Dus hardships will I learn Co bear. 
To fist and freeze at midnight houra of prayer : 
Nor think it hard, within a lonely cell. 
With melancholy speecblesa Eainta to dwell : 
Bnt bless the day I to that refuge ran, 
Free from the marriage chain, and from that 
tyrant, man, [Exii. 

ill. She's gone; and as she went, ten thou- 
sand fires 



Shot from her angry eyes ; as if she meant 
Too well to keep the crud tow she made. 
Now, as thou art a man, Horalio, lell me, 
What means this wild confusion in thy looks ; 
As if thou wert at variance with thysdf. 
Madness and reason combating with thee, 
And thou wett doubtful which should get the 
better 1 

Hot. I would be dumb for ever | bnl thy fete 
Has otherwise decreed it. Thou hast seen 
That idol of thy soul, that feir Cahata ; 
Thou hast beheld her tears. 

All. I have seen her weep; 
I have seen that lovely one, that dear Calisla, 
Complaining, in the bittomesa of sorrow. 
That thou, my friend Horatio, then hast wrong'd 

Hm: That I have wrong'd her! Had her eyes 
been fed 
From the rich stream which vrarros her heart, 

and numlier'd 
For every falling tear a dropofblood. 
It had not been too much ; for she has ruin'd thee, 
Even thee, my Altamont. She has undone thee. 

All. Dwit thou join ruin with Calista's name 1 
What is so feir, so exquisitely good 1 
Is she not more than painting can express, 
Or youthful poets foncy when they love t 
Does she not come, like wisdom or good foitune, 
Replete vvith blesangs, giving wealth and honour 1 

Hot. It had been better thou hadst liv'd a 
beggar, 
And fed on scraps at great men's surly doors, 
Than to have match'd with one so £ilse, so fatal. 

All. It is too much for friendship to allow thee. 
Because 1 tamely bore the wrong thou didst iier, 
Thou dost avow the barb'rous, brutal part, 
And urge the injury even to my face. 

Hot. 1 see she has got possession of thy heart, 
She has charm'd thee, hke a Syren, to her bed. 
With looks of love, and with endian^ng sounds : 
Too late the rooks and quicksands will appear. 
When thou are wreck'd upon (he (Bitbl^ shore, 
Then vainly wish thou hadst not left thy friend, 
To Mow her delusion. 

All. If thy friendship 
Does churlishly deny my love a room, 
!t is D0>. worth my keeping ; I disclaim it. 

Hot. Canst thou soon forget what I've been to 
theel 
I shar'd the task of nature with thy father. 
And form'd with caro thy inexperienc'd youth 
To virtue and to arms. 



Pot his was ever mine, mine his, and both 

Together floutish'd, and together fell. 

He call'd me fHend, Uke ttee : would he have left 

Thus for a woman, and a. vile one, tool 
Alt. Thou canst not, dar'st not mean it I Speak 

Say, who is vile; but dare not name Calista. 

Hot. I had not spoke at first, unless compell'd 
And forc'd toclear myself; but since thus urg'd 

AH. Thou wert 
thee well ; 
A kind of venerable mark of him 
Hangs round thee, and protects tTiee frran my 
vengeance. 



icit,d=, Google 



1.1 



THE FAIR PENITENT. 



Bui henceforth 

[Going 0. 

/for. 1 love thee atill, ungratefiil as thou art, 
And must and will preaeryB thee from dishonoi 
Even ill spite of thee. [ifcWs Aim! 

Alt. Let go my arm. 

Mot. If honour be thy care, if thou wonldat 

Without the name of creduloos, witlol husband, 
Avoid th; biide, shun lier detested bed, 
The joye it vieids are daafi'd with poison— 

Alt. Off! 
To orgs me but a minute more is fetal. 

Hot. She is polluted, atain'd— 

Alt. Madness and racina ! 
But hence- 

Hat. Diehononr'd by the man you hate — 

Alt. I pr'jthee iooee me yet, for thy own salte, 
If life be worth thy keepng — 

Sir. By Lothario; 

AU, Perdidon tafee thee, villain, for Uie felse- 

hood 1 [Strikes him. 

Now, nothing but thy life can make atonement, 

flor. A blow ! thou hast us'd me well— 

[Ihaws. 

Alt. Thia to thy heart— 

Hot. Yet hold— By heaven hia lather 's in his 

Spite of my wronra, my hi-n.^ ifiin'',iiftr f"'-^ 
And I could father die tnyaelf than hurt htm, 
AU. Defend thyself; for by my much wrong'o 

1 Hwear, the poor evasion shall not aave thee. 
Hot. Yet Iiold— thou know'at, 1 liare. 

[TkeyJlgU. 
Enter Latinia, vjho Tuns bBtaeen their swords. 
Lav. My brother, my Horatio ! Is it possible 1 
Oh, turn your cruel swords upon Lavinla. 
IT you mnst quench your impoua rase in blond, 
Behold, my heart shall give you all her store, 
To save those dearer streams that flow from 
yours. 
AU. 'Tis well thou hast found a safeguard: 
none but this, 
Ko power on earth, could save thee from my fury. 

Bar. Safety from thee ! 
Away, rain boy ! Hast thou Ibrgot the rev'rence 
Due to my arm, Ihy firat, thy great example. 
Which pmnted out thy way to noble daring, 
And ahow'd thee what it was to be a man f 
Lav. What busy, meddling Send, what foe to 
^oodneaa, 
Could kindle sudi a discord 1 

Hot. Ask'st thou what made ua foea 1 'Twas 

base ingratitude, [mercy, 

Twas sucli a sin to friendship, as heavens 

That strives vidth man's untoward, monstrous 

wickedness, 
Unwearied wi^ forgiving, scarce could ranlon. 
He who was all to me, child, brother, friend, 
With barb'rous bloody malice, Bought my hfe. 
AU. Thou art my sister, and 1 would not smikx 
thee 



No more to know this hospitable roof. 
He has but ill repiud Sciolto's bounty. 
We must not meet ; 'tis dangemua. FareweU. 
[He is going, LaVinca kolda him 



Then own, the joys which on her charms attend, 

Have more than paid me for my fiiithless friend. 

[^Teaksjrom Lavinia, and exit. 

Hot. Oh raise thee, my Lavinia, from the 

It is too much ; thia time of flowing grief. 
This wondrous waste of trars, too much to givs 
To an ungratefiil friend, and cruel brother. 
Lav. Is there not cause for weeping 1 Oh, 
Horatio I 
A brother and a husband were my trcasvii«, 
•Twas all the httle wealth that poor Lavinia 
Sav'd from the shipwreck of her (kther's for- 

One half is lost abeady. If thou leav'st mo. 
If thou shouldst prove unkind to me, as Altamont, 
Whom shall I find to pity my distress, 
To have coinpaaaion on a helpleas wanderer, 
And give hec where to lay her wretched head t 
Hot. Why dost thou wound me with thy soft 
compialninga ! 
Though Altamont be falae, and use me hardly. 

Talk not of being forsaken; for I'll keep thee 
Next to mv heart, my certain pledge of hapninees. 
Lav. Then you will love me still, ehensh me 



From Genoa, from falsehood, _,, 

>mc more honest, distant clime I'd go \ 
Nor would I he hehcrfden to my country, 
For aught but thee, the partner of my flight. 
Lav. And I would follow thee; forsake, for 
thee, 
ly coontry, brother, friends, even all I have, 
'hoiwh mine 'a a little all, yet were it more. 
And better far, it should he left for thee, 
And all that I would keep should be Horatio, 
So, when a merchant sees hia vessel lost. 
Though richly freighted from a foreign coast, 
Qladly for Ufe, the treasure he wouldgive, 
And only wishes to escape and live : 
Gold and his oaina no more employ his mind ; 
lot, driving o'er the billows with the wind, 
iloavea to one faithftil plank, and leaves the Ktt 
behind. [Bxeimt. 

ACT IV. 

SCENE I.~A Garden. 

LOTBABio and Calihta diacavered. 

Loth. Weep not, my fiiiri but let the god of 

Laugh in thy eyes, and revel in thy heart, 
Kindle again his torch, and hold it high, 
To hght us to new joys. Nor let a tKiHighl 
Of discord, or disquiet past, molest thee ; 
'"■it to a long oblivion give thy cares, 

nd let us melt the present ^ui in bliss. 

Cal. Seek not to sooth me with thy Mm 
endearments. 






irlb< 



ia'd. 



ic.i.do;*^.OOgIc 



THE FAIR PENITENT. 



[act ITj 



The hours of folly and oftooA delight 
Are wasted all, aWl flfj.j tboM that Temalii 
Are doom'd W weeping, anginsh, and repentant 
1 come to charge tliee with along account 
Of all the sorrows I have known already. 
And all I have to come ; thou hast undone ma. 
Loth. Unjust Calistn! dost thou call it ruin 
To lave as we have done ; lo melt, to languish, 
To wish for somewhat exquisitely happj, 
And then be blesa'd even to that wieh'a height ' 
To die with joy, aiid sttai^ to live again : 
Speechless to gaze, and with tumultnous tnins- 

CiU. Oh, let me hear no more ; I cannot bear it ; 
'Tis deadly to remembrance. Let that night, 
That guilty night, be blotted from the year: 
For 'twBs the night that gave me up lo shame, 
To sorrow, to tl^ &lse Lolhatio. 

Loih, Hear this, ye powers I mark, how the fair 
deceiver 
Sadly complains of violated truth ; 
She calls me felse, even she, the faithless she, 
Whom day and night, whom heaven and earth, 

have heard 
Sighing to vow, and tenderly protest. 
Ten tlu>usand times, she would be only mine ; 
. And yet, behold, she has given herself away, 
Pled from my arms, and wedded to another. 
Even to the man whom most 1 hate on earth. — . 

Cal. Art thou so base to upbraid me wjth a 

Which nothing but th^ eruelty eould cause 1 
If indignation, raging in my sou[ 
For thy unmanly insolence and scom, 
Urs'd me to do a deed of desperation. 
Am scound myself to be reveng'd on thes. 
Think whom } should devote to death and hell, 
Whom curse as my nndoer, but Lothario t 
Hadst thou been just, not all Sciolto'a power. 
Not all the vows and players of sighing Aitnmont, 
Could have prevail'd, or won me to forsake the 
Lolh. How have I fiul'd, in justice or in lom 
Bums not my flame as bnghtly as at first 1 
Even now my heart beats high, I languish 



With Altaniont complaining for his vfrong?^- 

Alt Behold him here — . [Comingjoraard. 

Cal. Ahl [SlaTting. 

Alt. The wretch ! whom thou hast made. 
Curses and sorrows hast thou heap'd upon him. 
And vengeance is the only good that's left. 

IDravrfng. 

Lolh. Thou hast la'en me sonjewhat unawares, 



ir take tu 



s, like day and night. 



Equal to both, and arm'd for either field. 
We've long been foes ; this moment ends our 

quarrel ; 
Earth, heaven, and fair Calista, judge the combat I 
{TheyJigU; Lothahio/aKs. 
Oh, Altamont ! thy genius is the strenger ! 
Thou hast prevail'd !— My fierce, ambi^ous soul 
Declining djoops, and all her fires grow pale; 
Yet let not this advantage swell thjr pride, 
1 conquer'd in my turn, m love 1 triumph'd. 
Those joya are lodg'd beyond the reach of fate; 
That sweet revenge comes smiling to my thoughts, 
Adorns my fall, and cheers my heart in dying, 

[Dies. 
Cal. And what remains for me, beset wifi 

Encompass'dround with wretchedness? There is 
But this one way to break the toil, and'scape. 

[She catehes vp Lothsrio's sword, o™^ 
offers to km herself! Altauont wreats 
it from her. 
All. What means thy iirantic rage ? 
Cal. Ofi"! let me go. 

Alt. Oh! thou hast more than murder'dme; 
yet still, [horror, 



Oh. thou haat known but little of Calista I 
If thou hadst never heard my shame, if only 
The midnight moon and silent stars had sei 



My transports are as fierce, as strong my wishes. 
As if thou ne'er hadst bless'd me with thy 

Cal, How didst thou dare to think that I would 
live 
A slave to base desires and brutal pleasures, 
To be a wretched wanton Ibr thy leisure, 
To toy and waste an hour of idle til 



And I must yield before it, Wert thou calm, 
Love, the poQr criminal whom thou hast doom'd. 
Has yet a thousand tender things to plead. 
To charm thy rage, and mitigate bis feto, 
Enier Altamont behind, 

Alt. Ha 1 do I live and wake 1 [Atide. 

Cal, Hadst thou b^n tinie, how happy had I 

Not Altamont, \iat thou, hadst been my lord. 
But wherefore itam'tt 1 happiness with thee 1 
It is tor thee, fot thee, that 1 am curs'd ; 
For thee iny Beoret aoHl each hour arratgns me, 
Calls me to answer for my virtue stall?!. 
My honour lost to thee.: for thee it haunts m 
With Blem Sciolto vowing vengeance on nw 



And hide me from their b< 

hat, ho ! my son 1 

... of thunder, or my fiitherl 

Madness 1 ConlVision ! let the storm come on. 
Let the tumiUtuous roar drive all upon me; 
Dash my devoted bark, ye surges, break it '. 
'Tis for my ruin that the tempest rises. 
When I am lost, sunk to the bottom low, 
B shall return, and all be calni again. 

Enter SceoltO. 
i,, Evan now Rossano leap'd the garden 

Ha! death has been among you — Oh, my fears! 
1 oai night thou hadst a diff'rence with thy friend, 
cause thou gav'st me ii>r it was a damn'd 

Didsl thou not wrong the man who told the truth ■< 
Answer me quick — 

Alt. Oh I press me not to speak ; 
ven now my heart is breaking, and the mention 
Will lay me dead before you. See that body, 
A.nd guess my shame ! my ruin I Oh, Calista 1 

Set, It is enough ! but I am slow to execute, 
And justice lingers in my lazy hand { 
Thus let me wipe dishonour from my name, 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



THE FAIR PENITENT. 



And cut thee rrom the earth, thoa atain (o 

[Offers toltillCAT.JSii; Altamont holds 

AU. Stay thae, Sciolto, thou rast fcther, stay, 
Or turn the point on me, and through mj breast 
Cut out the hloodj paaaage to Caliala ; 
So shall my luie be perfeet, while for her 
1 die, for whom alone I wish'd to live. 

Cal. JNo, Altamont; my heart, that scom'd 
thy lore, 
Shall never be indebted to thy jritj. 
Thus torn, de^c'd, and wretched as I seem, 
Still 1 haee something of Sdolto'a virtae. 
Yes, yes, my fether, I applaod thy justice : 
Strike home, and 1 will bless thee for the blow ; 
Be merciful, and free me from my pain ; 
'Tis sharp, lie terrihie, and I could curse 
The chcerfiil day, men, earth, and heaven, and 

thee, 
Even thee, Uiou venerable, good old man, 
Eai being author lo a wretidi like me. 

Sei. ThyinoUBCarehasglvenmetimBlothink, 
And sav'd me from a ciimo ; then rest, my sword. 
To honour have I kept thee ever sacred, 
Nor will I stdn thee with a lash revenm. 
But, mark me well, I will have jusfee done: 
Hope nottobearaway thy Crimea unpunish'd; 
I will see justice eiecoled on thee, 
Even to a ilooian strictness ; anil thou^ nature. 
Or whatsoe'er thou ait that plead'st within me. 
Be still ; thy tender strugglings are in vain. 
Cal. Then am 1 doomd to Uve, and bear your 
triumph! [braiding, 

To groan beneath your scorn and tierce up- 
Daily to be reproach'd, and have my misery 
At mom, at noon, at night, lold ovor to me 1 
Is this, is this, the mercy of a father'? 
[ only \xs to die, and he denies me. 
- Sd. aeatB from my sight! thy fether cannot 

^i^ with thy in^my to some dark cell. 
Where, on the confints of eternal night. 
Mourning, misfortune, cares, and anguish dwell ; 
Where ugly shame hides her opprolinous head. 
And deaui and hell detested rule maintain ; 
There howl out the remainder of thy Ufe, 
And with thy name maybe no more remember'd. 
' Cal. Yes, I will fly to some such dismal place. 
And be more cors'd than you can wish I were ; 



Then when youseememcaere, wan, and chang'd, 
Strelch'd at my length, and dying in my cave. 
On that cold earth, 1 mean shall be my. grave. 
Perhaps you may relent, and sighing sa^. 
At length her rears have wash'd her stauia away ; 
At length 'tis time her punishmeut should cease; 
Die, thou poor suff'ring wretch, and be at peace. 
[Ejrfl, 

Sai. Who of my servants wait there % 
Enler into or three Sebtants. 
Raise that body, and bear it in. On your Uves 
Take care my doors be guarded well, that none 
Pass out, or enter, but ay my appointment. . 
[Exetint Servants, wiift Lothakio's body. 

AU. There is a btal fury in your visage, 
It blazes fierce, and menaces destruction, 
I tremble at the vengeance which you meditate 



With his ovm hand he slew his only daughter, 
To save her from the fierce Decemvir's lust. 
He slew her yet unspotted, to prevent 
The shame which she might know. Then what 

should I do 1 
But thou hast tied mv hand.— 1 wo' not kill her; 
Yet, by the ruin she lias brought upon us. 
The common in&my that brands us both. 
She sha'not scape. 

AU. You mean that she shall die then 1 
Sci, Asl(menotwhat,norhow, Ihaveresolv'd; 
For all within is anarchy and uproar. 
Oh, Altamontl wha' ' —' *■-' 



This daughter 

That I should lii . . 

So happy, great, and good, that n 



it 1 what a vast scheme of joy 
day destroyed? Well didl hope 
ST would have bless'd my latter days ; 
■Id'swoncier, 



While I, from busjF life and care set free. 
Had spent the evening of my age at homo. 
Among a little prattling race ofyours ; 
There, lite an old man, talk'd awhile, and then 
Laid down and slept in peace. Instead of this, 

w and shame must bring me to mj grave— 
Oh, damn her ! damn her ! 

Ssri', Arm yourself, my lord : 
Rossano, who but now escap'd the garden. 
Has gather'd in the street a band of rioters. 
Who threaten you and all your friends with ruin 
Unless Lothario be return'd in safety. {Eiu 

Set, By heaven their fury rises to my wish, 
Nor shall misfortune know my house alone; 
But thou, Lothario, and thy race, shall psy me 



which my age is ci 

._, J great, my friends as pot 

a the Elate ; all shall be aummon d ; 



I think my name as great, m 






I know that a)] will jtnn thdr hands to 

'-' vindicate thy vengeance. When our force 

I and arm'd, we shall expect thy sword 
To join with us, and sacrifice to justice, [Esil. 
Alt. Thereiaaheavy weight upon mysensesj 
dismal, sullen stillness, that succeeds 
he storm of rage and grief, like silent death. 
Alter the tumult and the noise of life. 
Would it were death, as sure 'tis wondrous lite it, ' 
I am sick of living; my soul's pali'd, 
kindles not with anger or revenge ; 
B was th' informing, active (ire within ; 
Now that is quench'd, the mass forgets to move. 
And longs to mingle with its kindred earth, 

^ [E.it 

ACT V. 
SCENE I— A Toam himg -mith black. 
On one tide Lothatiio's Borfy on o Bier,- on the 
other ft Table, iBith a St:till and t^ker bones, a 
Sook and a Lamp on it. — CALrsTA is discover- 
ed on a amch, in blade; her hair ha.ii^ng 
loose and disordered. After snfl music, sM 
rises ajid comes Jbrward. 

Cal. 'Tis well! thesesolemnsounds, this pompf 
of horror. 
Are Bt to feed the frenzy in my soul. 
Here 'a room for meditation even lo madness, 
Till the mind burst with thinking. This doH 



./Google 



THE PAIR PENITENT. 



Lac 



Sleep; in the socket. Sure the hook was left 
To teach me something ; — ibr instruclion then — 
He teaches holy sorrow and contrition. 
And penitence. — Is it liecome an art then^ 
A trick that lazy, dull, luiurious gownmen 
Can teach us to do over? I'tj no mors on't; 

[ ThTowmg away the Book. 
I have more lea! anguish in my heart, 
Than all their pedant diedpline e'er luiew. 
What charnel bas been rifled for these bones 1 



Safe from diaquiet ait, and smile to see 
The ferce their mUerable rehcs play f 
But here 'a a eight is terrible indaed X 
la this tliat haughty, gallant, gay Lothario, 
That dear, perfidious— Ah I-iSSoSHSlr^Tooks ! 
And those dead eyea ! 
Ascend, ye ghosts, fantastic forme of night. 
In all your mflerent dreadful shapes aacend, 
And match the present liorror, if you can. 
Enter Sciolto. 

Sri. This dread of night, this silent hour of 
darkness, 
Nature for rest ordain'd, and soft repoae ; 
And yet distraction and tamuituous jars 
Keep all our frighted citizens awake : 
Amidst the general wreck, see where she stands, 
{Pointing to Calista. 
Like Helen, in the night when Troy was sack'd. 
Spectatress of the mischief which she made. 

Cal. It is Sdollo I Be thyself, ny soul, 
Be strong to bear his filial indignation, 
That he may see thou art not Siat ao &r. 
But somewhat still of his great spirit lives 
In Che forlorn Calista, 

Sci. Thou wert once 
My daughter. 

Cal. Happy were it I had died, 
And never lost that name. 

Set. That 's somethins yet ; 
Thou wert the very darling of my age : 
I thought the day too short to gaze upon thee; 
That ^1 the blesaings I could gather for thee. 
By cares on earth, and by my prayers to heaven, 
Were httle for my fondness to bestow. 
Why didst thou turn to folly then, and curse me 1 

Cai. Because my soul was rudely drawn from 

A poor, imperfect copy of my fiither ; 

Soi. Hadst thou tieen honest, thou hadst been 
a cherub : 
Butof that joy, aa of a gem long lost. 
Beyond redemption gone, think we no mare. 
Haat then e'er dar'd to meditale on death % 

Cai. I have, as on the end of ahame and sor- 

Sci. Ha I answer me ! Say, hast thou coolly 
thought 1 
'Tis not tho alcdc's lessons got by role, 
The porap of words, and pedant dissertations. 
That can sustain thee in that hour of terror 
Books have taught cowards to talk nobly of it, 
But when the trial comes they stand aghast ; 
Hast Ihou consider'd wiiat may happen after if! 
How thy account may stand, and wi^t to answer 1 

Cal, I've tarn'd my eyes inward u^ion myself, 
Where foul offence and shame have laid all waste ; 
I'herefbre my soul abhors the wretched dwelling, 
And longs to find some better place of rest. 



Sci. 'Tis justly thought, and wortliy of that 
spirit [Rome 

That dwelt in ancient Latian breasts, when 
Was mistress of the world, I would goon. 
And tell thee all my purpose ; hut it stieks 
Here at my heart, and cannot find a way, 

Cai. Then spare the lelHng, if it be a pain, 
And write the meaning with your poniard here. 

Sci. Oh I truly guess'd — secst thou this trem- 

Ming handT IBblding up a Dagger. 

Thrice justice uig'd— and thrice the slackening 

Forgot their office, and cenfess'd the &ther. 
At fength the stubborn virtue has prevail'd ; 
It must, it must he so — Oh t take it then, 

[Gives the Dagger. 
And know the rest nntaught 

Cal. I understand you. 
It is but thus, and both are satisfied, 

[QJfers to kill herself; Sciolto catshes 






Sd. An 



ntjgive 



eyela 



(he balance with an iron hand. 
And put off erery tender human thought, 
To doom my child to death ; but spare my eyes 
111.. . unnatural sight, lest their strings 

My old brain split, and I grow mad »kh horror, 
Cfd. Ha ! is it possible % and is there yet 

Some httle, dear remain of love and tenderness 

"■or poor, undone Calista, in your heart 1 
Sci. Oh! when I thinkwhat pleasure I took in 
thee, 

What joys thou gav'st me in thy prattling in- 

Thy sprightly wit, and early bloommg beauty; 
How have I stood and fed my eyes upon thee. 
Then, lifting up my hands and wondring, bless'd 

my strong grief, my heart even melta within 

auld curse nature, and that tyrant honour, 
For making me thy &1heF and thy judge; 
Thou art my daughter still. 

Cal. For that kind word 

hus let me fell, thus humbly to the earth. 
Weep on your feet, and bless you fiir this good 

Oh ! 'tis too much for this offending wretch, 
This parricide, that murdere with her crimes, 
Shortens her father's age, and cuts him off 
Ere httle more than half his years be number'd. 
Sot. Would it were otherwise— but thou must 

Cal. That I must die it is my only comlbrt : 
Death is the privilege of human nature, 
And life without it were net wortfi our taking : 
Come then. 

Thou meagre shade ; here let me breathe my last 
Charm'd with my fether's mty and forgiveness, 

than if angels tun'd their golden viols, 
And sung a. requiem to my parting so ' 



i. I'm 
eipect m 



m'd hence ; i 



3 this my (rienda 



what of sad presage, 



There is 

That lells me I shaU nr 
If it be Eo, this is our last ferewell, 
And these the parting pangs, which nature feels, 
When anguish rends the henrt-strings — Oh, my 
daughter! [Exit 



i,,KjOO^\Q 



'■} 



THE FAIR PENITENT. 



tB'd Calisla, nuw 



Cat. Wow Ihink, thou 

behold 
The desolation, hotror, blood, and ruin. 
Thy crimes and fetai folly spread around. 
That loudly cry tor vengeance on thy het 
Yet heaven, who knows our weak imperfect 

natures, 
How bUnd with passions, and how prone to 
Makea not loo strict inquiry for jffenceg, 

Cheap recompense ! here 'twould not bn recei 
N"'i.,ng but blood '"-'■ --'^-- 



And cleanse the eoul from inbred deep poiinti 
And see, another injur'd wretch appears. 
To call for justice from my lardy hand. 



death! 
And thou, the lovely mistress of these shades 
Whose beauty gilds the more than midnigl 

darkness. 
And makes it grateful as the dawn of day. 
Oh, take me in a fellow-mourner, with thee, 
I'll number groan fiir etojin, and tear for tear ; 
And when the fountams of thy eyes arc iliy. 
Mine shall supply the stream, and ween fiir hnti 
Col. I know the 



Dost thou not labour with thy murd'rous weightl 
And you, ye glitt'ring, heavenly host of stats, 
Hide your fan- heads in clouds, or I shall blast 

For I am alt contagion, death, and ruin ; 
And nature sickens at me. Jlwit, thou world, 
This parridde shall be thy plague no more ; 
Thus, thus I set thee free. [Stabs herself. 

Hot. Oh, &tal raahness ! 
Enier Soiolto, pote and bloody, supported by 
Servants. 

Cat, Oh, my heart ! [fed 

Well may'st thou tail; for see, the spring thai 
Thy vital stream, is wasted, and runs low. 
My father ! »iU jfou now, at last, forgive me, 
" '"—-'• ■- - and all ycur suff 'rings, 



e injui 



urgo n 



with the wroi 



Altamoi 
Thoucom'st t 

done thee. 

ISut know I stand upon the brink of life. 
And in a moment mean to set nie ftee 
From shame and thy upbraiding. 

All. Falsely, falsely 
Dost thou accuse me! O, forbid me not 
To mourn thy loss, 

To wish some better fate had rnl'd our loves, 
And that Cahsta had been mine, and true. 

Col. Oh, Allamont! 'tis hard for souls li 

Haughty and fierce, to yield they've done amis 
But, oh, hehoW ! my proud, disdainful heart, 
Bends to thy gentler virtue. Yes, I own, 
Such is thy truth, thy tenderness, and lave, 
That, were 1 not abandon'd to destruction, 
With thee I nnght have iiv'd for ages bless'd, 
And died in peace within thy lUthfut arms. 



Hor, Now mourn indeed, ye miserable pair ! 
For now the measure of your woes is full. 
The great, Ihe good Sciolto dies this moment. 

Cal. My fetherl 

AH. That'sadeadlystroke, indeed. 

Sin: Not long ago, ho privately went tbrlh, 
Attended but by few, and those unbidden. 
1 heard which way he took, and straight pur- 

Bnt found him eompass'd by Lothario's fiction. 

Almost alone, amidst a crowd of foes. 

Too lale we brought him aid, and drove them 

Ere that, bis frantic valour had provok'd 
The death he seem'd to wish for from their 
swords, 
Cal. And dost thou bear 



le yel, thou patient 



•e again by that dear ni 



and those wide 



a stormy se 



Will you forget r 

Lift up your hand and bless m 
Down to my dark abode ! 

Set. Alas, my daughter ' 
Thou hast rashly ventur'd 
Where life, feme, virtue, 

lost- [anguish. 

But sure thou hast boma thy part in all the 
And smarted with the pain. Then rest in peace 
Let silence and obhvion hide thy name. 
And save thee fi:om the malice of posterity ; 
And may'st thou find with heaven the same 

As with thy father here,— Die, and be happy, 
Cal. Celestial sounds 1 peace dawns upon my 

And every pain Brows less — Oh, gentle Alla- 
Think not too hardly of me when T'n 
But pity me — Had 1 but early knowr 



m gone ; 



Thy V 



s worth, thou excellent 



young 



Vol,, 



We had been happier both — Now, 'tis too late ; 
• - ■■ yet my eyes take pleasure to behold thee ; 

L art their last dear object— Mercy, heaven 1 
[Dies. 

'. Oh, turn thee from that lalal object, 
Allamont ! 

Come near, and let me bless thee ere I die. 
To thee and brave Horatio I bequeath 
My fortunes — I^iy me by thy noble ftther. 
And love my memory as thou hast his ; 
For thou hast been my son— Oh, gracious 

Thou that hast endless blessings still in store 
For virtue and for filial piety, 
Lot grief, disgrace, and want be far away j 
But multiply thy merdes on his head. [him. 

Let honour, greatness, goodness, elU] be with 
And peace in all bis viays— [Dies. 

"- : The storm of grief bears bard upon hLi 

And bends him, lite a drooping flower, to earth. 
By snch ezamples are we taught to prove 
The aorrows that attend unlawful love. 
Death, or some worse misfortune, soon divide 
The injur'd bridegroom from his guilty bride. 
If you would have the nuptial union last, 
X^t virtue be the bond that lies it fast. 

[Exeunt 



, Google 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE: 



A COKEDY, 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY MRS. CENTLIVRE. 



REMARKS. 



.'B-Inn^elds, ia Ihe y 



118 Thealrea Royal of tli 



Iwaye dieplayed. to the d 



To try to iJlease witlioul ons borrow'ii lini 
Our plot Is new and regulaily clear. 
And not one single tittle from JSalieTt; 



DRAMATIS PERSON.* 



COVENT Q*RDBN, lT7t DHURT 

Coi:ONBL Fkqnwkll, Mr. WondiMrd. Mr. i 

SiE Philip Modelove, Mr. Boofk Mr. . 

Periwinkls, .;,.. ..' Mr, QauA. JWr. . 

TjudELOVE Mr. DmulalL Mr.. 

Obadi*hPhim, Mr.Shulet. Mr- - 

FrHkman Mr. Whit^idd. Mr. 

SiuonPdre Mr. Wewitier. Mr. I 

Saokbut Mr.Fearm Mr. 1 






Anne Lovely Miss Afoeifin. 

Mrs. Pbiu Mr 

Betty, 



Mrs. Oloner. 

,™ Mrs. Satrki. 

Mrs. Evaiia. Jfiss TirfaiwH. 



Stock-brokers, Gentlameii, Travellers, Coachmen, &c. 



ACT I. 
SCENE I.— A TTaiierii. 



.""Vee. Come, colonel, hia majesty's he 
'ou are as melancholy as if you were in 
ristt some of the beauties M Bath ha'ii' 



Col, F, Why, 'fiiith, Freeman, there is aome- 
Ihing in't; I have aeen a lady at Bath, who baa 
kinfled such a flame in me, that all the wateri 
there ean't quench. 

Free. Ia she not to be iisd, colonel 1 

Col. F. That'aadilBoultqueBliontoaliswer; 

however, I resolve to try ; perhaps you may ba 

. able to serve me ; you uierchnnlB know one ano- 

jsundertha 






persons. 



r,l^,OOgLC 



I-} 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIPE. 



Pree. Odso ! 'tis Miss Anne LotoIv. 
Col. P. Thesame— dojoi2 knowWl 
Fj-ee. Know herl ay— 'Faith, colonel, your 
condition is more desperate Uian you iraa^ne : 
why, she IS Ihe talk and pity of the whole town ; 
and It IS the opinion of the [earned, that ehe must 
die a maid, 

_ Col. P. Say you sol That's Bomowhat odd, 
in (his charitable oily.— She 's a woman, I hope j 

Free. For aught I know— lint it had been 
well for her had nature made her any other pi 
of the creation. The man who keeps this house 
seryed her &ther; he ia a very honest fellow, and 
may be of use to yea ; we '11 siend fin him to take 
a glass with us : he'll giye you her whole history, 
and tia worth jaat hearing. 

Cd. F. But may one trust himl 
Free. Withyoarlife: Ihayeobligationsenough 
upon hhn, to nwke him do any tiling ; I serye hun 
With wine. [fiing-s. 

Col, F. Nay, I know him very well myself. I 
oneo used to frequent a club that was kept here. 
Enter Dhawer. 
Dram. Gentlemen, d'ya call t 
Free. Ay, send up your master. 
Dvav,. Yes, Sir. [Exit. 

Col. F. Doyou knowany oflhislady'sguar- 
diana. Freeman 1 

Free. I know two of them very well. 



uani e 

will ai. 

tiis only child ; and ! have heard hi... 
wish her dead a thousand times. He died worth 
thirty thousand ponndg, which he left to his 
daughter, provided she married with the consent 
of her guardiana, hut that she might bo sure never 
lo do so, he left her in tJie care of four meii, as 
opposite lo each other as the four elements : each 
has his quarteriy rule, and three months in the 
year she is obliged to be subject to each of their 
humours, and they are pretty diflereiit, I assure 
you.^-She isjasl come from Bath. 

Col. F. 'Twas there 1 saw her. 

Sack. Ay, Sir, the last quarter was her beau 
§aanJian^s._ She appears in all public places du- 



Col.F. S 






'isited a lady who boarded 



e: £ hie" 






ound an opportunity to tell her s.,. „„^ .™,>™, 
ihe had no objection lo mine; but if I could not 
Reconcile contradictions, I must not think of her, 
or that she was condemned to the caprice of four 
lersona, who never yet agreed in any one thing 
ind ehe was obliged to please them afl. 

Sack. 'Tia most true, Sir : I'ii give you a short 
description of the men, and leave ;?ou to judge of 



take I 



a ail.' Mr. Sackbut, i 






'Tis a 



sent for you Ic 
ixim among the 



n his head, land- 
n my power, I shan't scruple to 



friends of the bottie, that 
m company, one may be si 

Sack. Sir, you shall be sure to have as good 
wine as you send in, CiJonel, your moat humUe 
servant ; you are welcome to town. 

Col. F. I thank you, Mr. Sackbut. 

Sack I am as glad to see you as I should a 

hundred tun of French claret, custom free ■ My 

service to you, Sir, [thlTiks.j You don't look so 
merry as you used to do ; aren't you weU, colonel ? 

Fi-ee. He baa got a wr '.■.'-- . 

lord : can you help him 7 

Sack. If 'tis ir 
serve my friend. 

Col. F. 'Tis one perquisite of vour calling. 

Sack. Ay, at '(other end of lie town, whore, 
you officers use, women are good forcers of trade : 
a well-cuslomcd house, a handsome bar-keeper, 
with clean obliging drawers, soon get the master 
an estate ; but our citizens seldom do any thing 
bnt cheat within the walls.— But as to the lady 
colonel, point you at particulars 1 or haye you a 
good Champagne stomach t Ate you in full pay 
or reduced, colonell 

Col. F. Reduced, reduced, landlord ! 

Free, To the miserable condition of a lover I 

Sack. Pish ! that 's preferable to half-pay ; a 
"onjan s resolution may break before the peace : 
i.„,i, T__.i .1 , 10 parleying with 



'iftuoso, a 

iurly, fond ofevery thing antique and foreign,and 
wears his clothes of th6 feshion of the last century, 
dotes upon travellers, and believes more of Sa 
John Mondeville than he does of the Bible 
Col. P. That must be a rare odd feUow. 
Sack. Another is a change-broker; a fellow that 
will out-lie the devil for the advanlago of stock, 
and cheat his father that got him in a bargain : he 
is a great stickler for trade, and hates every man 

FTee. He is a great admirer of the Dufch 
management, and sweats IJiey understand trade 
better than any nation under the sun. 

Sack. The third ia an old beau, that has May 
in his fency and dress, hut December in his fece 
and his heels: he admires all new fashions, and 
those must be French : loves operas, balls, masque- 
-des, and is always the moSt tawdry of the whole 

mpany on a bitth-day. 

Col. P. These are pretty opposite one lo ano- 
ther, truly ; and the fourth, what is he, landlord 1 

Sack. A very rigid ouaker, whose quarter be- 
gan this day. 1 saw (diss Lovely go hi, not above 
—'0 hours ago. Sir Philiji set herdown. What 
ink you now, coloneH Is not the poor lady lo 

Col. P. Ay, and rescued too, landlord, 
Pree. In my opmion that 's impossible. 
CoLF. There is nothing impossibleWalovor' 
What would not a man attempt for ft fins Woman 
and thirty thousand pounds i Besides, my hoaom 



push her home, colonel there 

the fair sex. 

Col. P. Were the lady her own 

have some reasons to believe I should 

mand in chief, 

^™- You know Miss Lovely, Mr. Sackbut ' I than 
Sack. Know her! Ay, poor Nancy: ' (.oim I n, 

^f net! her to school many a frosty 



ilake : I promised to deliver her, and al 
Sack. That's 



Free, If it depended upon knight-erranlry, 1 
ihould not doubt your setting free the damsel ; but 



impertinence, hypocrisy, i 



Alas • if she 's the ■ 



my a frosty morning, glory, I 
in, I pity you, eolonef: | all the gm 



pride, at once to deal with, requires more cunning 
tb.n .r»„,rally attends a man of honour 

' ly fency lolls me I shall come off with 

Dive to try, howeve " 

ians, Mr. Sackbut^ 



Do you know 



h,l^,OOgLC 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE. 



Sank. Very well; they all use my house. 

Col. F. And will you osaist me, if occuaioii re- 
quires 1 

Sack. In every thing I can, colonel. 

Free. I'll answer for him. 

Col.F. First I'll attack my beau guardian: 
whera Uvea he 'i 

Sack. 'Faith, somewhere about St, James'; 
though to eay in what atreet 1 cannot : but any 
chairman will tell you where Sir Philip Modelove 

Free. Oh ! you'll find him b the Pork at eleven 
every day ; at least I never pass thmush at that 
hour without seeing him there— But wfeit do you 

Col. F. To address him in his own way, and 
find what he designs to do with the iady. 

Free. And wMt then 1 

Col. F. Nay, that I can't tell ; but I ahall take 
my measures accordingly. 

Sack. Well, 'tie a mad undertaking, in my 
mind ; but here 's to your success, colonel. 

[Orin/cs. 

Cot. F. 'Tis Mmething out of the way, I con- 
fess ; but fortune may chance to smile, and I sue- 

BoW, loos the won -alio venlw'd first to sea, 
Sut thefTst -Bent'Tiag loners bolder were. 
Tkepathqf Irme'sadarkanddang'rousviay, 
Without a land-mark or one frieadb/ star. 
And he. that rarta the risk, deoerves the fair. 

SCENE II. — An Apartment in Prim's House. 

Enter Mias Lovei.t, and her maid Betty. 

Betty. Bless me, Madam ! why do you fret and 
tease yourself so^ This is ^ving tHem the ad- 
vantage, with a witness. 

Miss L. Must I be condemned all my life to 
the preposterous humours of other people, and 
pointed at by every boy in town ! — Oh I 1 could 
tear my flesh and curse the hour I was bom. — 
Isn't it monstrously ridiculous that they should 
desire to impose their quaking dress upon me at 
these years' When I was achild, no matter what 
they made me wear; but now— 

Betty. I would resolve against it. Madam ; I'd 
gee 'em hanged betoro I'd put on the pinched cap 

Miss L. Than I must never expect one mo- 
ment 's ease : she has rung such a peal in my ears 
already, that I shan't have the right use of them 
this month.— What can I do 1 

Betty. What can you not do, if you will but 
give your ""'""' ■ 



Dman has fortune enough to make the man 
happy, if he has either honour or good manners, 
hoV make her easy. Love makes but a slovenly 
figure in a house, where poverty keeps the door. 
Betty. And so you resolve to die a maid, do 



_ _ ts L. What 
build churches a d hosp laL 
Betty. Why, ' * " 



ryy 



._^ laL 
.._ , . t g —If th 1 

Jrete d h " 
!B1 d 1 

lady is no despic bt (hi g 

Miss L. So y w uld d sfi 
my own Ibrtun d throw If 

Betty. I would dvi y u t ra k 
«aay. Madam. 

MissL. That t th w Im n 
BO, airl, there ar certai grei t t 
g!ed with matrim y with t wh h I 
well change for th w se as th bette 



Mada 



Hiss L. Or have it in my power to make the 
an t love master of my fortune, 
Betty. Then you don't like the colonel so well 
I thought you did, Madam, or you would not 

take such a resolution. 

Miss L. It is because I do like him, Betty, that 

I do take such a resolution. 
Betty. Why, do you expect. Madam, the 
lonel can work miracles^ Is it possible for him 
marry you with the consent of all your gua»- 

Miss L. Or he must nid marry me at alt, and 

I told liim; and he did not seemdispleased with 

! news.— He promised to set me free; and I, on 

that condition, promised to make him master of 

Betty. Weill 1 have read of enchanted castles, 
ladies deUvofed from the chains of ma^c, giants 
killed, and monsters overcome ; so that I shall be 
the less surprised if the colonel shall conjure you 
: the power of your four guardians: if he 
does, I am sure he deserves your fortune. 

""is L. And shall have it, girl, if it were ten 
as much — For I'll ingenuously confess to 
thee, that 1 do love the colonel above all the men 
saw : — There 's something so jaaiee in a 
soldier, a kind of je ne acais quoi air, that makea 
them more agreeable than all the rest of mankind. 
—They command regard, as who shall say. We 
your defenders ; we preserve your beauljes 
1 the insults of rude and unpolished foes, and 
ought to be preferred before those lazy indolent 
-lortals, who, by dropping into their fiither' 
states, set up their coaches, and think to rattle 
themselves into our affections. 

Betty. Way, Madam, I confess that the army 
has engrossed all the prettiest fellows — A laced 
"-at and a feather have irresistible channs. 

Miss L. But die colonel has all the beauties of 
the mind as well as tho body, — O all 



-O all ye powers 

it thai he may be 

aught but 



Point a& thy darts to aid his jusf design, 
And moke his plots as pretialenl as tliine, 

[Exeul 



SCENE I.— Tim Park. 



Sir P. Well but, my dear, are you really cort- 
Btant to your keeper 1 

Worn. Yes, really. Sir.— Hey-day ! who comes 
yonder 1 He cuts a mighty figure. 

Sir P. Ha I a stranger, by his equipage keep, 
ing so close at his heels, — He has the appearance 
of a man of quality. — Positively French, by his 
dandng air. 

Worn. He crosses, as if he meant to sit down 



ar P, He has a 



e love to thee 



ic,t,d=, Google 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE. 



Worn. II. will be to no purpose if he docs. 

Sir P. Are jou rfsolvfil to bo cruel then t 

Col. F, You mUBt be yery crael indeed, Hjoa 
can deny any thing to so fine » gentleman, Ma- 
dam. [Takes out kui viatch. 

Worn. I never mind the outside of it man. 

Col. F. And I'm afraid thou art no Judge of 
the inside. 

Sir P. I am poaStively of jour mind, Sir ; for 
creatures of her function seldom penetrate beyond 
the pocket. 

Worn, Coxcombs t [AsiiU, and exit. 

Sir P. Pray, what says your wateh 1 mine is 

Col. P. I want thirtj-sii ndnules of twelve, 
Sir. 
{Puts up his vjolch, and takes out his snuff-box. 

Sir P. May I presume. Sir. 

Col, F. Sir, jou honour me. 

[Preseniing the box. 

Sir P. He speaks good English — though he 
must be a foreigner. [Aside.] — This snaff ia ei. 
tremely good — and the box prodigioua fine : the 
work 18 French. I presume, Sir. 

Coi. F. 1 bought it in Paris, Sir.— I do think 
the workmanship pretty neat. 

Sir P, Neal 1 'tis eiquisitcly fine, Sir. Pray, 



in Great Britain of late years. I was sure yoa 
were French the moment I laid my eyes npon 
jou; I could not come into the supposition of 
your being an Englishman : this island produces 

Col, F. Are you married, Sir Philip 1 
Sir P. No; nor do I believe I shall ever enter 
into that honourable state; I have an absolute 
lendre for the whole sex. 

Cul F. That's more than they have for you, I 
dare swear. [Aside,] I find I was very much mis- 
taken — I imagined you had been married to that 
young lady whom I saw in the chariot with you 



, with three of the 

Bt preposterous old fellows — that, upon my soul, 
■" -a pain for the poor ^rl : she must certainly 



ould g 
that ci 



<B leave. 



would en^vou 



France, 
iiink me i 



lEnglish- 



Sir P, No, upon ray soul, don't I. 

Col. F. I am sorry ftr't. 

iSir P. Impossible you should wish to be 
Englishraant Pardon me. Sir, this island coi 
not produce a person of such alertness. 

Col. F. As this mirror shows you. Sir. [Puts 
up a pocket-gloss to Sir Philip's /ace.] I know 
not how to distinguish you. Sir ; hut your mier 
■nd address speak you right honourable. 

Sir P. Thus grent souls judge of others bj 
themselves — I am only adorned with knighthood 
that 's all, I assure you, Sir ; my name is Sii 
Philip Modelove. 

Cal.F. Of French extraction 1 

Sir P. My father was French. 

Col. F. One may plainly perceive it — There \i 
> certain gaiety peculiar to my nation flbr 1 wiL 
own myself a Frenchman) which distrngoishet 
US every where.^-A person of your figure would 
be a vast addition to a coronet. 

Sir P. I mu^ own t had the offer of a baroff 
about five years ago, but I abhorred the &tigui 
wliich must have attended it.— I could nexier ye 
bring myself to join with either party, 

tSi. F. You are perfectly in iKe right. Sir 
Phihp — a fine person should not embarkliimaelf 
in the slovenly concern of politics : dreaa and plea- 
sure are objects proper for the soul of a fine gen- 

Sir P. And love— 

Col F. Oh! that's incloded under the article 



\l^yr. 



Sir P. As to the lady, she'd gladly be rid of 
I at any rate, I believe ; but here 'a the mischief: 
: who marries Miss Lovely, must have the con- 
nt of us all four — or not a penny of her portion, 
■For my part, I shall never approve of any but a 
an of figure — and the rest are not only averse to 
oloanliness, but bate each a peci.har lasle to 
gratify.— For my part, I declare I would prefer 

Col. F, A nd I her to all women— 
Sir P. I assure you, Mr. Fcignwell, i am for 
marrying her, for I hale the trouble of a guardian, 
espedally among such wretches; but resolve 
never to agree to the choice of any one of them - 
and I fancy they'll bo even with mc, for ^ey nu- 
ver came intn any proposal of mine yet. 

sh I had leave to try them, Sir 



Col. F. I 
Philip. 



P, With aU my soul. Sir; I can refuse a 
person of your appearance nothing. 

Col. F. Sir, r am infinitely ob%ed to you. 

Sir P. But do you really like matrimony 1 

C(A. F. I believe 1 could with that lady. 

Sir P. The only pdnt in which we differ.— 
But you are master of bo many qualifications, that 
I can excuse one feult : for 1 must think it a feult 
in a line gentleman : and that you are such, I'll 
give it under my hand. 

Col. F. I wish you'd give me your consent to 
marry Miss Lovely, under your hand. Sir Philip. 

SirF. I'll do't, if you'll step into St. James' 
Coffee-house, where we may have pen and ink- 
though I can't foresee what advantage my con- 
sent will be to you, without you can find a way 

^ " of the guardians.— But I'll intro- 

duce you, however. She is now at a Quaker's, 
where I earned her this morning, when you saw 
us in Gracechurch-street.— I assure you she haa 
an odd ragout of guardians, as you wfli find when 
you hear the characters, whidi I'll endeavour to 
as we go along. — Hey I Pierre, Jacque, 

Where are you all, scoundrels 1 — Order 

the chariot to St. James' Cofiee-house. 

Col, F. Le Nbir, La Brun, La Blanc- -Afor- 
bleu.ousont ces covins la? AUons, Monsieur 
' ! Chevalier. 

Sir P. Ah, pardomics moi, Monsieur. 

Col. F, Not one step, upon mv soul. Six 
Philip. 



io=isdo, Google 



134 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIPE. 



. Sir P. The best bred man in Europe, posi-. 

lively. [Exewitt. 

SCENE JZ— Obadiah Prim's Ususe. 

Enter M[ss Lotelt and Mas. PEiM. 

Mrs, P, Tlien tlioa wilt not obey me ; and 
Ihou dost really think those &l-lala became Ihee 1 

Mias L. I do, indeed. 

Mrs. P. Now nijl I he judged by all sober peo- 
ple, if I don't looli more like a modest woman than 
thou dost, Anne. 

lUiss L. More hlce a hypocrite, yoa mean, Mrs. 
Prim. 

Mrs. P. Ah ! Anne, Anne, that wicked Philip 
Modelove wilt undo thee.^-Satan so fills thy heart 
TOth pride, during the three months of his guar- 
dianship, Itiat thou .beeomest a stumblingblock (o 



luprigh 



;ht.. 



Pray, who are they'! Are the piucli- 



Prim?' 

Mrs. P. It doth not consist in cut hair, spot- 
ted tkce, and a bare neck. — Oh the wickedness of 
Uie generation 1 tlie prinu^ve women knew not 
the aboniinalian of hooped petticoats. 

Miss L. No ; nor the abomination of cant nei- 
ther. Don't tell me, Mrs, Prun, dont. — 1 know 
you have as much pride, vanity, sel&conceit, and 
amlntion among you, pouched under that formal 
habit and sanctiiied countenance, as the proudest 
of us all ; but the world begins to see your pru- 
dery. 

Mrs. P. Prudery ! What ! do they invent new 
wards as well as new fashions 1 Ah I poor ^- 
tastic age, 1 pity thee.— Poor deluded Anne, which 
dost thou think moat resembleth the saint, and 
which the sinner, thy dress or mine f Thy naked 
bosom allareth the eye of the by-stander— -en- 
courageth the frailty of human nature— -and cor- 
rupteth tlie sonl with evil longings. 

Miss L. And pray who corrupted your son 
Tobias with evil lonpnas^ Yonr maid Tabitha 
wore a hand^rchief, and yet he made the saint a 

Mrs. P. Well, well, sjat thy malice, I con- 
fess Satan did buffet my son Tobias, and my ser- 
vant Tatatha: the evil spirit was at that time (oo 
strong, and they both became subject to its work- 
ings — not from any outward provocation — hut 
from an invrard call ; he was not lainlfid with the 



Miss L. Ay, to keep the sun from scorching 

Obad, Tf thovL coukl^ not bear the sunbeams, 
how dost thou think man can bear tby beams I 
Those breasts inflame desire : let tliem be liid, { 
say. 

Miss 1.. Let me be quiet, I say. Must I bo 
tormented thus for ever 1 Sure no woman's cou- 
dition ever equalled mine ! Foppery, folly, avarice, 
and hypocrisy, are, by turns, m^ constant com- 
panions — I cannot think my ^thei meant this 
tyraimy ! No, jou usurp an authority which be 
never intended you should take. 

Gbod. Hark thee, dost thou call good counsel 
tyranny 1 Do 1 or my wife tyrannise, when we 
desire thee in all love to put off thy tempting at- 



Miss L. I B 



shlw 



ly grav. 



! Kill D 



rather than treat me thus. 

Obad. Kill thee 1 ha, ha I thou thinkest thou 
irt acting some lewd piay sure. — Kill theel Art 
,bou prepared for dealh, Anne Ijovely' No, no, 
thou wouldst rather have a husband, Anne. — 
Thou wanlBst a gilt coach, vrith so. laiy iellows 
behind, to Haunt it in the ring of vanity, among 
the princes and rulers of the land — who pamper 
themselves with the fatness thereof; hut 1 will 
lake care that none shall squander away thy fa- 
ther's estate; thou shalt marry none such, Anne. 
. .'Miss Z(, Would you marry me to one of your 

ObruL. \ ea, verily, no one else shall ever get 
my consent, 1 do assure thee, Anne. 

Mtsslj. And I do assure thee, Obadiah, that I 
will as soon turn papist, and die in a convent. 

Mrs. P. O wickedness I 

Miss L. Ostu[Mdilyl 

Ohod, O bUndness of heart 1 

Miss Li. Thou blinder of the worid, don't pro- 



theci 






in yon squee 



of the : 
in the dmnkeiiness of beauty. 



ir did h 



: eyes ta 



not with 

Misa I,. So ! men you hold wenching no crime, 
provided it be within the pale of your own tribe. 



Mary by the hand last night in the pantry f — 
When she told yon, you bussed so filthily! Ah! 

begged her to show you a httle, little, little, bit of 
her delicious bosom— Don't you remember those 
words, Mr. Prim? 

Mrs. P. What doas she say Obadiah! 

Obad. She talketh unintelligibly, Sarah.— 

Which vray did she hear this 1 This should niA 

have reached the ears of the wi^fed ones : — verily, 

it troubleth mo. [jlttde. 

Enter Servant. 

Scr». Philip Modelove, whom they call Sit 
Philip, is below, and such another vrith him : 
shall 1 send them up t 

Obad. Yea. [Exit Servant. 



Why dost thou not make her put 
airs. P. She will not do it. 
Obad. Verily, thy naked bosom troubleth my 
utnrard man : I pray thee hide, it, Anne : put on 
a handlLOTcbier, Anno Lovely. - 

Misa L. I hate handkeicniefe wh«n 'tis not 
"j)W weather. Mr. Prim. 

, Obad. I l^ve seen thee wear a handkerchief, 
nay, and a mask to boot, in the middle of July. 



Sir P. How dost thou do,friendPrim1 Odsol 
oy shB friend here too [ Wliat, are you docu- 
menting Miss Nancy ^ Beading her a lecture 
upon I& pinched coif, I wai rant ye I 

Mrs. P. 1 am sure thou didst never read her 
any lecture that was good. — My flesh so risath 
at these wicked ones, that prudence adviseth me 
to withdraw tram their sight. [Exit. 

Col. F. Oh, that I could find means to speak 



o; *^.OOg IC 



li] 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE. 



with her I How charming she appears ! I wish, 1 
could gel this letter into her hand. [Aside 

Sir P. Well, Miss, I hope thou hast got the 
hotter of them. 

Miss Zi. The difficulties of my hje are not to 
bt surmounted, Sir Philip,— I hate the imnerU- 
nence of him as much as^the stupidity of tlie 
other. ■ [Aside. 

Obad, Verily, Plulip, thou wilt spoil this maid- 



Sir P. IfindWBstilldi 



I ; but that 



us consent to many her. — I have sent fb 
brother guardians to meet me here about 
very thing. — Madam, will you give me leave to 
recommend a. huRbanii to you 1— Here '9 a gen- 
Oeoian, whom, in my mind, you can have tu 

(Presents COLOMEL ; sfie looks another 

Mhs L. Heaven deliver me from the formal 
aai the fitntastic &0I ! 

Col. F. A fine woman— a fine horse, and line 
equipage, are the finest things in the univ 
and it I am bo happy Co possess you, Madanii, 1 
shall become the envy of mankind, aa inui ' 
you outahino yonc whole sol, 

[As he takes her hand, fie tries to put a letter 
into il ; it drops — Prim takes ai up. 

Miss L. I have no ambition to appear conspicu- 
ous lidiculous. Sir. [ Turning' from Aim. 

Col. P. So faij (he hopes of Feignwell. 

MssL.'Ha.'. Feienwell I 'tis he ! What have 
I done 1 Prim has Che letter, and it will be dis- 
covered. [Aside\ 

Obad. Friend, I linow not thy name, so can- 
not call thee by it ; but thou seesC thy letter is un- 
welcome to the maiden ; she will not read it. 

MissL. Nor shall you; [Snatches the letter.] 
Ill tear it in ft Ibousand pieees, and scatter it, as 
I will the hopes of all thrae that any of you shall 
recommend to me. [ Tears the letter. 

Sir P. Ha ! Right woman, 'faith 1 

CoZ. P. Eicellent woman I {Aside. 

Obad. Friend, thy garb savoureth too much of 
the vanity of the ^ foe my approbadon ; nothing 
that reeembleth PhUip Modelove shall I love ; 
mark that, — therefore, friend Philip, bring no more 
(rf thy own apes under my roof 

3ir P. 1 am BO entirely a stranger to the mon- 
Bters of thy breed, that I shall bring none of them. 

Col. P. I am liiely to have a pretty task by the 
time 1 have gone throush them all ; but she 's a 
dty worth taking, and 'egad I'll carry on the 
mege ; if I can but blow up the outworks, I fancy 
I am pretcy secure of the town. [Aside. 

Elder Sestant. 

Sent. Toby Periwinkle and Thomas Trade- 



nandto 



« thee. 



ime up. 



s Phil. 



an inundation 
of noise and nonsense. Oh, Feignwell ! what- 
over thy contrivance be, prosper it, heaven, 

[ExU. 
Su'P. m transU gloria mundi! 

Eater Periwcnnle onrf Tradelove, 

These are my brother guardians, Mr. Feignwell. 
-Pr'jfbee, observe the creatures, 

[Aside to Colonel Feigniveli,, 



Trade. Well, Sir Phihp, I obey your sum- 

Per. Pray, what have you to ofler for the good 
of Miss Lovely, Sir Philip 1 

Sir P. First, I desire to know what you intend 
to do with that Isdy 1 Must she be sent to the 
Indies for a venture — or hve an old maid, and 
then be entered amongst your curiosities, and 
shown for a monster, Mr. Periwinkle 1 

Col. F. Humph, curiosities; that must be the 

Per, Why, what wouki you do with her 1 
Sir P. I would recommend this gentleman to 
her for a husband. Sir — a person whom I have 
picked out from the whole race of manldnd, 
Obad. I wouki advise thee to shuffle him again 

CoL P. Pray, Sir, without offence to your for- 
mality, what may be your objections 1 

Obad. Thy person, thy manners, thy dress, 
thy acquaintance, — thy every thing, friend. 

Sir P. You are most particiSarly obliging 
friend. Ha, ha I 

1\ade. What business do you follow, pray. 



TYade. That is as much as to say, you dress 
line, feed high, lie with eveiy woman you like, 
and pay your surgeon's billB better than your 
tailor's or your butcher's. 

Col. P. The court is much obliged to you, Sir, 



'lyade. Thecourt.Su'! What would the cu 



1, Mr, Trai 



1, Sir? 



Col. P. That question must not be answered 
iw, [Aside.] In books I have. Sir. 
Per. In books I That 's fine travelling indeed ! 
Sir Philip, when you present a person I like, 
he shall have my consent to marry Miss Lovely ; 
till when, your servant. [Exit. 

Col. P. I'll make you Hke me before I have 
done with you, or I am mistaken. [Aside. 

Trade, And when you can convince me that 
1 beau is more useful to my country than a mer- 
chant, you shall have mine ; till then, you must 
iicuse me, [Exit, 

Col, P. So much for trade— 111 fit you too. 

Sir P, In my opinion this is very Inhaman 
treatment, as to the lady. Mi, Prim. 

Obad. Thy opinion and mine happen to diffiir 
8 much as our occnpatbns, friend : business re- 
uircth my presence, and folly thine ; and so I 
lus! bid thee farewell, [Exit. 

Sir P. Here 's breeding for you, Mr. Feign- 
fe|] !— Gad take me. 

Half my estate I'd give io see 'em bit. 

Col. F, I hope to bile you all, if my plot hit, 

[Exeunt 

ACT III. 

SCENE!.— A Tavern. 

Colonel Feignwell in on Egt/ptian dress, vtilk 

Sachbut. 

Sock, A luchy beginning, colonel you bava 

got the old beau's consent. 



ic.t,d=, Google 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE. 



Cot. F. Ay, he's a renBonable 
the other three will require some pains. Shall 
I pass upon him, think yan 7 'Egad, in mymind, 
I look as antii^ue aaif I had been preaeiVE^inthe 

Sack, Pass upon him I ay, ay, if you have ae- 

Col. F, I havfl no apprehension from tha* 
quarter ; asBUrarjce is the cockade of a soldier. 

Sack. Ay, hut the assurance of a soldier difieri 
much from that of a traveller— Can you lie vrith 
a good grace 7 

(M. F. As heartily, when my 
prize, as I would meet the foe when my country 
called and king commanded : so don^t you fear 

that part: if he don't know me again, ' '- 

— I nope he'll come. 

Sacb. I wish all my debts would con 
I told him you had been a great traveller, had 
many valuable curiosities, and was a person of 
most singular taste: he seemed transported, and 
begged me to keep you till he came. 

Col. F, Ay, ay, he need not fear my running 
away. — Let 's have a bottle of sack, landlord ; our 

SbcA. You shall have it. 

Cid. F. And whereabouts is the Irap-door you 
mentioned 1 

Sack. There 'b the conveyance, Sir. {Exit. 

(M.F. Now,ifIshould cheat all Ihesaroguiah 
guardians, and carry off my mistress in triumph, 
It would be what the French call a grand cowp 
rf'ecioi.— Odso 1 here cornea Periwinkle.— Ah ! 
deuce take this beard ; pra' 
give me the slip, and spoil at 
Enter Sjckbut wUk wine.. Periwinkle fi 



[Mat TO. 

der that your taste is so refined ; why you have it 
in your blood. — My humble service to you, Sir; 
to the immortal memory of John Tradeaoant, your 
never-to-be-forgotten uncle. [Drinks. 

Col. F. Give me a glass, landlord. 

Per. I find you are primitiva even in yoM 
wine : Canary was tlie drink of our wise ftir»- 
latheiB; 'tis balsamic, and saves the charge of 
'pothecarjea' cordials^-Oh ! that [ had lived in 
your uncle's days ! or rather, tliat he were now 
alive \- — Oh 1 how proud he'd be of such a ne- 
phew 1 

Sack. Oh pox I that would have spoiled the 
jest. [Aside. 

Pet. a person of your curiosity must have col- 
lected many rarities. 

Coi. F. I have some. Sir, which are not yet 
ashore ; aa, an Egyptian idol. 



n part of their 



that country; I took il 
fi-om the breast of a female mumzi 

Per. Ha, ha! our women reta 
idolatry to Uiis day ; for many ai 
lady's breast, ha, ha \ 

Sack. A smart old thief. [Aside. 

Col. F- Two tusks of an hippopotamus, two 
pair of Chinese nut-crackers, and one Egyptian 
mummy. 

Per, Vt^, Sir, have you never a crocodile 1 

Col. F, Humph I the boatswain brought one 
with a design to show it, but, touchine at RoU 
terdam, and hearing it was no rarity in England, 
dd it to a Diit<£ poet. — Lookye, Sir, do you 



X this little vial 7 



Suck. Sir, this gentlen: 



a great traveller, and a person of fini 
1, b^a leave to take a glass with yoi 
n ofa curious taste himself 






lat 



CoL F. The gentleman has it 
garb ; Sir, you are welcome. 

Per. Sir, I honour a traveller and men of your 
inquiring disposition ; the oddness of your habit 
pleases me aitremaly : 'Hs very antique, and for 
(hat I like it. 

Col, P. 'Tis very antique. Sir:— this habit 
once belonged to the famous Claudius Ptolemeus, 
who lived in the year one hundred and thirty- 
five. 

Sack. If he keeps up to the sample, ho shall tie 
with the devil for a bean-slack, and win it every 
straw, [Aside. 

Per. A hundred and thirty-five I why. that 's 
prodigious now I — "Well, certainly 'tis the finest 
thing in the world to be a traveller. 

CSl. F. For my part, I value none of the mo- 
dern fiishions a fig-leaf. 

Per. No more don't I, Sk : 1 had rather be the 

f'jalof a fool than his favourite— I am laughed at 
ere tor my singularity. — This coat, you must 
know, Sir, was formerly worn by that ingenious 
and very learned person, Mr, John Tradescant, 
of Lamheth, 

Cd. F. John Tradescant ! Let me embrace 
you. Sir — John Tradescant waa my nncje. by my 
mother's ude ; and I thank you for the honour 
you do bis memory ; he was a very curious man 



Per. Poluflosboio! — It has a rumblingsonnd, 

CW F. Right, Sir ; it proceeds from a rumbling 

nature — This water waa part of those waves 

which bore Cleopatra's vessel, when she sailed to 

iT. Well^ of all that travelled, none had a 
taste like you. 

Coi. F. But here's the wonder of the world. 
This, Sir, ia called zona, or mores muaphonon : 
rtues of this are inestimable. 
r. Moros mnaphonon ! What in the name 
of wisdom can that be 1 — to me, it seems a plain 
belt. 

Col. F. This girdle has carried me all ths 

Per. You have carried it, you mean. 
Coi. F. I mean as I say.- Whenever I am 
girded with this, 1 am invisible 1 and by turning 
this little screw, can be in the court of the great 
ncgul, the grand signior, and king George, in as 
iltje time as your cook can poach an egg. 
Per. You must pardon me, Sir, I can't be- 

Col. F. If my landlord pleases, he shall try the 
experiment immediately. 

Sack. I thank you kindly, Sir; but I have no 
inclination to ride post haste ta the devil. 

Cd. F. No, no, you aha'n't stir a foot ; I'll only 
ake yOQ inviuble. 
Sack. But if you coukl not make me visible 

Per. Come, try it upon me. Sir; I am not 
iftaid of the devil nor all his tricks.— 'Sbud, 111 
stand 'em all. 

Col.F. There, Sir, pntiton.-Come.landktrd, 



,/Googlc 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIPE. 



t, [Theyh 



^.Jlsit 



jou am] T 
on, Sir 1 

Pey. 'Tia on. [The;, Jura again. 

Sack. Heaven protect me ! where is he 1 

Per. Why here, just where I was. 

Sack. Where, where, in the name of virtue? 
Ah, poor Mr. Periwinkle ! — 'Egad, look to't, you 
had best, Sir ; and let him be seen again, or I shall 
have you burned for a wizard. 

Col, F. Have patience, 

Per. But really don't y 

Sack. No more than I see my grandmother, 
thai died forty years ago. 



137 

St of EUch 



didb< 



'e I did, and ace you as plain a: 



!aci. Ah ! I wish I 



!e you 0] 






Col. F. Take off the girdle. Sir. 

[He takes it <if. 

Sack. Ah, Sir, I am glad lo see yoa with all 
my heart. [Enibraces him. 

Per, This is very odd ; certainly there must be 
some trick iti't. — Pray, Sic, will you do me the 
iavour to put it on yourself! 

Col. F. With all my heart. 

Per. But first I'll secure the door. 

CW. P. You know how lo turn the screw, Mr. 
Sachbut. 

Sack. Yes, yes— Come, Mr. Periwinkle, we 
must turn fiill east 

[ They tarn ; Colonei. sinlts by the trap-door. 

Col. F, "Fis done ; now turn. [ Tliey turn. 

Per. Ha! mercy upon me; my flesh creeps 
upon my bones.— This must be a conjuror, Mr. 
Sackbut. 

Sack. He 's the davil, I think. 

Per. Oh, Mr. Saekbut, why do you name the 
devil, when perhaps he may be at your elbow 1 

Sack. At my elbow ! Marry, heaven forbid ! 

Od. P. Are you satisfied 1 

\From, under the SSage. 

Per. Yes, Sir, yes— How hollow hit vmee 
sotmdal 

Sack. Yours seemed Just the same— 'Faith, I 
wish this girdle were mine, I'd aril wine no more. 
Harkye. Mr. Periwinkle, [Takes him aside tiU 
the Coi.OHF.1. rises again.] if he would sell this 
girdle, you might travel with great expedilion. 

Col. F. But it is not to be parted with for 
money. 

Per. I am aorr^ fort, Sir, because I thmk it 
the greatest curiosity t ever heard of. 

C&l F. By the advice of a learned ph3'aogno- 
mist b Grand Cairo, who consulted the lines in 
my ftce. I returned to England, where he told me 
r should find a rarity in the keeping of four men, 
which I was horn to possess for the benefit of 
mankind ; and the first of the four that gave me 
his consent, I should present him with thw ^rdle 
—Till I haive found this jevrel, I shall not part 
with the girdle. 

Per. What can this rarUy ba 1 Didn't he name 
it to you 1 

CM. F, Yes, Sir : he called it a chaste, beauti- 
fiil. unaffei;ted woman. 

Per. Pish I women are no rarities : women are 
the »e^ gewgaws of the creation; playthings for 
a they write man they ou^t to 






a circle of 

[Aside. 

led in all the 



pride and foppery of the limi 
a forelop as the cockatoo ^ 

Ctd. F, I must humour him. [Aeid£.\ Such a 
skin as the lizard 1 

Per. Such a shinina breast as the humminir • 
birdl 

Col. F. Such a shape as the antelope ? 

Per. Or, in all the artful mixture of their van- 
oua dresses', have they half the beauty of one boj 
of butterflies 1 

Cid. F, No; that must be allowed. For hi 

art, ifitweranot for the benefit of mankind, V 
ve nothing lo do with them ; for they are as in 
difFerent to me as a sperrow or a flesh-fly. 

Per. Pray, Sir, what benefit is the world to 
reap from this lady'! 

Col. F. Why, Su-, she is to bear me a son, who 
shall revive the art of embalming, and the oid 
Roman manner of burying the dead ; and for tbo 
benefit of posterity, he is to discover the longitude 
so long sought lor m vain. 

Per. '0(1! these are valuable things, Jdr. Sack. 

Sack. He hits it off admirably ; and t'other 
swallows it like sack and sugar. [Aside.} Cer- 
tainly this lady must be your ward, Mr. Peri- 
wmkle, by her being oiider the care of four per- 

Per. Uy the description, it shoakl— 'Egad, if 
I couki get that girdle, I'd ride with the sun, and 
make the tour of the world in four^and-twenly 
hours. [Aside.] And you are to give that ghdte 
•i the first of the four guardians that shall give 
a consent to marry that lady, say you, Sirl 

Cd(, F. t am so ordered, when I can find him. 

P<n-. I fency I know the very woman— her 
imo is Anne Lovely. 

Col. F. Excellent 1— He said, indeed, that the 
first letter of her name was L. 

Per, Didhereallyl— Well, that's prodigious- 
., amazing, that a person in Grand Cairo shouki 
know ally thing of my ward. 

Col. F. Your ward ! 

Per. To be plam with you. Sir, \ am one of 
those four guardians. 

Coi-^P; Are you indeed, Sir^ I am transport- 



ed to find that the r 



ersonofso 






■Here is a writing Jrawn up by that fam--, 
Egyptian, which if you will please to sign, you 
must turn your fiice full north, and the girdle is 

Per. If I live till the boy is born, I'll be em- 
balmed, and sent lo the Royal Society, when 1 die. 

Col. F. That you shall, most certainly. 
Enter Dhaweh. 

Draw. Here's Mr, Staytape, the tailor, in- 
quires for you, colonel. 

Col. F. Who do 






■. Ha! 



colonel. [Aside, 

Col. F, Confound (he blundering dog ! [Aside. 
Draw. Why to colonel— 
Sack. Get you out, you rascal. 

[Kicks him out. 
Draw. What the devil is the matter t 
Col. F. This dog has ruined all my schemes, 
see by Periwinkle^s looks. [A^side. 
Per. How finely I should have been choused 
-Colonel, you'll pardon me that I did not give 
" "■''" ' ■■ pure ignorance, 



you your title before— 



Jr,,l^.OOgLC 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE. 



Col. P. A poi of yoai anear I (dside.) I dont 
undetatand you. Sic, 

Per No, that '3 strange ! I underetand jou, 
colonial — An Egyptian of Grand Cairo I ha, ha, 
ha I I am aotry such a well-invcnteJ tale should 
do you no more service. We old fellows can see 
aa fkt into a millstone as them that pick it. I am 
not to be tricted out of my trust— mark that. 

Col F. Tlie devil I I must carry it ofF; I wish 
I were fairly out. {Aside.} I,ookyfl, Sir, you may 
make what jest you please, bvit the stars will be 
obeyed, Sir; and depend npon'I I shall have the 
lady, and you none of the gicdk. Now for Mr. 
Freeman's part of the plot. [Aside; exit. 

Per. The stars! ha, ha! No star taa favoured 
you, it seems. The girdle 1 ha, ha, ha I none of 
your legerdemain tricKa can pass upon me. Why, 
what a pack of trumpery has this rogue picked up 
— His pagod, poluflosboio, his zunos, moras mus- 
phonona,and the devil knows what— But I'll take 
care — Ha, gone 1 Ay, 'twas time to sneak off 
Soho ! the IwusB 1 

Enter Saokbdt. 
Where is thia trickster? Send for a constable; 
V\\ have this rascal before the lord mayor; I'll 
Grand Cairo him, with a pox to him— I believe 
you had a hand in putting thia imposture upon 
me, SackblU. 

Sodc. Who, I, Mr. Periwinklel I scorn it, I 
perceived he was a cheat, and left the room on 
purpose to send for a oonslatila to apprehend him, 
and endeavoured to stop him when he nent out 
— But the rogue made but one step from the stairs 
to the door, called a coach, leaped into it, and 
drove away like the devil, as Mr. Preemau can 
witness, who is at the bar, and desires to speak 
with you ; he is this minute come to town. 

Per. Send him in. [Exit Sackbut.] What a 
scheme (his rogue has laid! How I should have 
been laughed a^ had it succeeded 1 

Ertter Fhebman, boated and spurred. 
Mr, Freeman, J had like to have been imposed on 
by the veriest rascal— 

Free. 1 am sorry to hear it — The dog flew 
fer't : he had not 'scap'd me, had I been aware of 
him; Sackbut struck at him, but missed his blow, 
or he had done his bu«neaa for him. 

Per. 1 behave you never heard of such a con- 
trivance, Mr. Freeman, as thia fallow had found 

Free. Mr, Sackbut has told me the wliole slory, 
Mr. Periwinkle; but now 1 have something to 
tell yoQ of much more importance to yourself — I 
happened to lie one night at Coventry, and know- 
ing yonr uncle, Sir Toby Periwinkle, I paid him 
» visit, and, to my great surprise, found him dy- 
ing. 

>«-. Dying I 

Free. Dying, in all appearance; the servants 
weeping, the room in darkness; the 'pothec^ry, 
shaking hia head, told me the doctors had given 
him over ; and then tliere are small hopes, you 

Per. I hope he has made hia will— he always 
told me he would make me his heir. 

Free. 1 have heard you aayaa much, and there- 
fore resolved to give you notice. I should think 



it would not he amiss if you went down W-moi- 
row morning. 
Per. It is a long journey, and the roads vary 

Free. But he haa a great estate, and the lanJ 
very good— Think upon that. 

Per. Why that '5 true, as yon Bay ; I'll think 
upon it. In the mean time, I give you many 
"""nks for your civility, Mr, Freeman, and should 



be glad of your company 1 
house 1 



> dine with m 



obliged to be al Jonathan's Coffea- 

-, and now it is half an hour after one i 

if 1 despatch my business, I'll wmt on yoa ; I 
know your hour. 

Per. You shall be very welcmne, Mr. Free- 
man, and so your humble servant. [Eiit. 
Re-enter Colonei, Feionweli, and Sacebbt, 

Free, Ha, ha, ha I I have done your busineaa, 
colonel ; he has swallowed the bail. 

Col. F. I overheard all, though I am a littlcin 
the dark, I am to personate a highwayman, \ 
suppose — that 's a project I am not tbnd^of; for 
though I may fright him out of his consent, he 
may fright me out of my life when he diacovew 
me, as he certainly must in the end, 

Pree. No, no ; I have a plot for you witliout 
danger; but first we must manage Tradelove — 
Has the taibr brought your clotheal 

c__,. ,-._ -i^iaite the thief. 



Dutch m 
Cd.F. The deuce ofthistradingplot-I wish 

'■" '— ' ' old soldier, that 1 might have at- 

way, heard bim light over 

■" ■ for trade, by 



tacked him _, _ . ._ .. 

all the battles of the late 
Jupiter, 1 shall never do i 
Sack. Never fear, cole 






: Mr. Freeman wilB 



Free. You'll see what others do; the coffee,, 
house will instruct you. 

Col. F. I must venture, however— But I bava 
a further plot in my head upon Tradelove, which 
you must assist me in. Freeman ; you are in credii 
with hi— ' ' ' — — 



A™ must beb-Myig and business come in play ; 
A thirty thousand pound girl leads the waif. 

[E^e,tnS 

ACT IV. 

SCENE /,— Jonathan's CoJ'ee-hmiEe in 

'Change Ailei/. 

Enter Thadelove and StOck-jobbebb, ■ejiih 

rolls qf paper. 

1 Stock South-seaataeven-eighths;whoi,nyal 

Trade. Harkye, Gabriel, youll pay the (Jiffer- 

ence of that stock we transacted fiir t'other ihy 1 

Gab, Ay, Mr, Tradelove, here 'a a note ibr the 

money. 

Trade. Iwouldfainbile thesparkin thabrowp 

coat : he comes very often into the alley, but never 

employs a broker. 

Enter Colonel FEiGJiWEi,!, and Preemah, 

Trade. Mr, Freeman, your servant. Who n 

that gentleman 1 



ic,t,d=, Google 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFK 



land ; but, harkjre, Mr, Trade 
o£ ncwa will get jou as much as tlie Frencli king's 
death did, if you ace eipedilious. [S/uncing him 
a l£tteT.'\ Read there ; I received it j ust now from 
oae ttiBt belongB to 1 

Trade. [Reads.] 
go,timsioy(M,Iai,. 
show my gratitude: 
receijied a private express, thai the '^aniards 
hane raised their siege from before Cagliari. If 
this proves qf any advantage to you, it tciU af- 
itoei' both the ends and wishes of, Sir, your mo. 
obiiged humble servant, 

Henhious Dusseldohj 

P. S. In (wo or three hours the news wiU i 
paHic. 
Muy one depend upon tliia, Mr. Freeman'! 

[Aside to FnEEMa; 

Pi-ee, You may — I never knew this perso 
send me a felse piece of news in my life. 

Trade. Sir, l am much obliged to you : 'egad, 
'lis rare news — Who sella Soiith-sea, for next 



and pounds, at 

. , ...ipt * ' - 

- .- it you, Mr. Tradelc... 

[FbgeMan whispers to one of the Gentleiaen. 

1 Gent. The Spaniards raised tho siege of 
Cagliari t I don't beliete one word of it. 

{Aside. 

2 Gent, Raised the siege I as much as you have 
raised the Monument. 

Free. 'Tis raised, I assure you, Sir. 

2 Gent. What will you lay on'tl 
Free. What you please. 

1 Gent. Why I have a brother apon the spot, 
in the emperors servii-e: I am certain, if there 
were any auch thing, I should have had a letter. 

3 Oertt. I'll hold you fifty pounds 'tis felse. 
Free. 'Tis dona. 

3 Gent. I'll lay you a brace of hundreds upon 



Free. I'll lake you. 

Trade. I'll lay any man a braOB of thousands 
the siege is raised. 

Free. The Dutch merchant is your man to 
lake in, [Aside to TradelOte, 

Trade. Does he not know the news 1 

Free. Not a syllable ; if he did he would bet a 

hundred thousand pounds as soon as one penny 

— he 'b plaguy rich, and a mighty man at wagers, 

[To Thadelove, 

Trade. Say you so T— 'Egad, I'll bile Mm, if 
possible— Are you from Holland, Sir^ 

Col. F. Ya, mynheer. 

Trade. Had you Ihe news before you came 
aiwy-l 

Col F. What believe you, mynheer 1 
"'hat do I believe fW ' 
-..., .^^,».iiardB hasft nrtiii 

Col F. What duyvel 's news is dal 1 'Tis 
■aet, toynhccr 'tis no true, Sir, 



T\ade. 'Tis so true, mynheer, that I'll lay you 
two thousand pounds on it. 

Col. F. Two duysend pound, mynheer, 'tis 
gadaen — dis gentleman sal hold de golt, 

[Gives Freeman money. 

Trade. With all my beart-^his binds th« 

Free. You have certainly lost, mynheer; the 
tdege raised indeed. 

Col. P, Ik geloy't niet, mynheer Freeman, ik 
sal ye duhbied nonden, if you please. 

Free. I am let into the secret, tberefore wont 
win your money. 

Trade. Ha, ha, 
man, 'faith, ha, ha I this is no ill 'day's 
Pray, may I crave your name, mynheer 1 

Col. F. Myn nsEin, mynheer 1 myn naem is 
Jan Van Timtanitirelereletta Heer Van Peign- 

IVade, Zounds, 'lis a damned long name; I 
shall never remember it— -Myn Heer Van, Tim, 
Tim, Tim— What the devil is it ■? 

F-ee. Oh!nev«rheed:IknowthegenWBinan, 
and will pass my word for twice the earn, 
T'rade. That's enough. 

Col. F. You'll hear of me sooner than you 
ish, old gentleman, I feney. [Aside.] You'll 
ime to Sackbut's, Freeman % 

[Aside to Freeman 
Free. Immediately. {Asidii to the Colonei., 
'Trade. Mr. Freeman, I give youmany thanks 
for your kindness — 

Free. I fear you'll repent when you know all 
[Aside. 



[ExeurU. 
SCENE II.— The Tavern. 
EnJer Freeman and Colonel Feionwell, 
Free. Ha, ha, ha ! the old fellow swallowed the 
ait as greedily as a gudgeon. 
Col. F. I have him, 'faith, ha, ha, ha ! His two 
thnusanci pounds secure — if he would keep his 
— oney, he must part with the lady, ha, ha I 
Enter SiCKBur. 
Sack, Joy, joy, colonel I the luckiest accident in 
the world. 

Col. F. What say'sl thou 1 
Sack. This letter does your business. 
CoLF. [Reads,] ToOb/lOHH Prim, Hosiii, 
•,ar the Building called the Moau-ment, in Lon- 

Pree. A letter lo Prim I How came you by it 1 
Sack, Looking over the letters our post-woman 
brought, as I always do, lo see what letters ate 
-".reeled to my house, (for she can't read, you 
LUst know,) I spied this, directed to Piim, so 
lid for it among the rest. I have given the old 
de a pint of wme, on purpose to delay time, till 
Du see if the letter be of any service ; then I'll 
•■e\ it up agdn, and tell her 1 took it by mistake. 
'I have read it, and fancy you'll like the project 
-Read, read, colonel. 
Col. F. [Reads,] Friend Prim, there is. or 
'■vedfnim Pennsylvania, one Simon Pure, a 
ader of the faithful, loho hath sojourned tcilh 



r,l^.OOglC 



140 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WFE. 



us elenen days, and kaih been of great tomfoTtta 
the bretliTen. — He inlendelh for the quarterly 
meeting- in London ; I have reeommended him 
to thy hxruae. I pray Ihee treat him kindly, and 
let thy Mift cherish kim, for he's if a ineakly 

conetitittion he wiU depart from us the third 

day ; lehiek is all from thy friend in thefailk, 
Aminaqjb Holdfast. 
Ha, ha ! excellent! I understand you, landlord 
1 am .0 personate this Simon Pure, am I not "> 

Sack. DonH you like the faint 1 

CO. F. Admirably well ! 

f Vee. 'Tia the beat contriranue in the world, 
if the right Sunon gets not there before you— 

Col. P. No, no, the quakers never ride post 
and suppose. Freeman, you should wMt at tht 
Bristol coach, thai if you see any such person, you 
might contrive to giv« me notice— 

I^ree. I wiU. [Bell rings. 

Sack. Coming, coming! Ulxil. 

JVee. Then must despatch Periwinkle first— 
Remember his uncle, Sir "Toby Periwinkle, is an 
oM bachelor of seventy-five — that be has seven 
hundred a year, most in abboy-land — thai be was 
once in love with your molher; shrewdly suspect- 
ed by some to be your ftther— That yoa have 
been thirty years his steward— and ten years his 
gentleman — remember to improve these hints. 

Col. F. Never fear j let me alone for that— bqt 
what 's the steward's name 1 

Free. His name is Pillage. 

Col. F. Enough— Wow for the country pnt. 
Enter Sackeut. 

Saek. Zounds 1 Mr. Freeman, yonder is Trade- 
love in the damncd'sl paaaion in the world.— He 
swears you are in the house— he says yoo told 
him you were to dine here. 

Free. I did so, ha, ha, ha! he has found him- 
self bit already. 

Col. F The devil ! he must not see me in this 

Saok [ told him I espected you here, but you 
were not come yet. 

Free. Very well— make you haste out, colonel, 
and let me alone (o deal with him: where is he? 

SaiJc. In the King's-head. 

Free. Ay, ay, very vtell. Landlord, let him 
know I am come in— and now, Mr. Pillage, suc- 
cess attend you. [Exit Sacebut. 

cm. F. Mr. Proteus ratber 

From changing shape, and imitoiing Jove, 

I draw the happy omene of my lone. 

Tm not the first jwuiyr brother qf the blade, 

Who made hia firtune in a masqneradi. 

[Exit. 
Enter Tbadelove. 

Free. Zounds! Mr. Tradelove, we're bit, it 

Trade. 'Bit. do you call if, Mr. Freeman I I'm 
ruined,^ — Poi on your news. 

Free. Pox on the rascal thai sent it me. — 

Trade. Sent it you I Why Gabriel Skinffint 
has been at the minister'a, and spoke with him ; 
and he has assured him 'tis every syllable &Ise ; 
he recaved no such express. 

Free. I know it : I this minute parled with my 
IHend, who protested he never sent me any such 
iMter. — Some roguish stock-jobber has done it on 
purpose to make me lose my money, that 's cer- 



sand pounds to that Dutchman with a cursed long 
name, besides the stock 1 bought: the devil II 
could tear my flesh— I must never show my fiiee 
upon 'Change more ; — for, by my soul, I can^t 



Trade. Time ! Ads'heart I 
ble to look up again. 
Free, I am very much a 



be an instrument 
for my own, lvalue 
linlomy head, that, 



ofretnevinsyourmisfortu: 
it not. Adso, a thought a 
well improved, may be of i 

Trade. Ah 1 there 's no thought can be of any 
service to me, without paying the money or run- 
ning away. 

Free. How do ye know 1 What do you think 
of my proposing Miss Lovely to liim 1 He is a 
single man— and I heard him say he had a mind 
to marry an English woman — nay, more than 
that, he said somebody loki him you had a pretty 
ward— he wished you had betted her instead of 

Trade. Ay, but he'd he hanged before he'd 
lake her inslead of the money: the Dutch are too 
covetous for that ; besides, he did not know that 
there were three more of us, I suppose. 

Free. So much the belter ; yen may venture \a 
give him your consent, if heTl forgive you the 
iger. It is not your business to teil him that 
ur consent will signify nothing. 
Trade. Thai 's nght, as you say; but will he 
do it, think you t 

Free. 1 can't tell that; but I'll Iry what I can 
with him.— He has promised lo meat me here 
hour hence; I'll ffcel hia pulse, and lei yon 
know. If I find it feafflble I'll send for you ; if 
■ou are at liberty lo take what measures you 



nd that she can't marry without my consent 

I that ! am a covetous rogue, and will never 

part with her without a valaafle consideration. 

Free. At, ay let me alone for a he at a pinch. 

Trade. 'Egad, if yea can bring this to bear, 

Mr. Freeman, I'll make you whole again: I'll pay 

the three hundred pounds you lost with all my 

•.e. Well, 111 use my best endeavours.— 
Where will you hel 

Trade. At home : pray heaven you prosper ! — 
1 were but the sole trustee now, I should not 
ar il. [Exit. 

Free. Ha, ha, ha !— he has il, [Exit, 

SCENE 7H.— Periwinkle's flbtwe. 
Enter Pekewinsle on one.side, a Footman on 

Fool. A gentleman from Ccvenliy inquires for 

Per. From my uncle, I w 
m up.-"This HFiU save me 
the expense, of a journey. 



rauile,'asweR 



,/ Google 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE. 



Elder Colonel, a 



a. PlLLiQE. 



Col. F. ts your name Periwinkle, Sir 1 

Per. It is, Sir. 

Col, F. I am aortj for the message I bring. 
My old mafler, whom 1 aorsed these forty years, 
daims tlie sorrow due from a feilhful servant to 
an indulgent maslat. [Weeps. 

Per. Bjf this I understand. Sir, my uncle, "' 
Toby Penwinkle, is dead, 

Oj/. F. He ia. Sir, and has left you heir to 
seven hundred a year, in ae good sbliey-iand as 
e»er jiaid Peterpence to Rome. I wish you ' 
to enjoy it, but my teara will flow when 1 1 
of my benefiiclor.~[ Weeps.] Ah I he was a goou 
roan— he has not left many of his fellows, the 
poor lanient him soroly. 

Per. I pray, Sir, wfctt oflice here \o» 1 

Col. F. I was his steward, Sir. 

Per. I have heard him mention you with much 
respect : your name is — 

Coi. F. PiUage, Sir. 

Per. Ay, Pilliige, I do remember he called you 

Pillage. Pray, Mr. Pillage, when did my uncle 

Col. F. Monday last, at four in the morning. 
About two he Mgned his "■'" — ' —— :•--■- — 



jiuouu [WO ne signea nis will, and gave it i 
handa, and atricfly charged me lo leave Coventry 
the moment ho aipired ; and deliver it to you vrith 
what speed I could ; I have obeyed him. 



Col. F. There are tvro things which he forgot 
to insert, hut charged me to tell you, that he de- 
sired you d perforni them as readily aa if you had 
found them written in the will, which is ' 



Per. Thatvriifbeaconsiderablechargeiapos 
of all modern feshions, [Aside.] WetU it shall bi 
done, Mr. Pillage, I will agree with one of death'i 
feshion-mongers, called an undertaker, to go down 



and wouki gladly spend them in the femily, where 
I was brought up,— [ Weeps.]— Ue waa a kind 
and tender master to me. 

Per. Pray dont grieve, Mr. Pillage, you shall 
hold your place, and every thing elae which you 
held under my uncle— You make me weep lo see 
jou so concerned, [Weeps.] He Hved to a good 



<dd 



,aiidw 
'. Wei 



re all mortal. 



la taken particular i „ „ „.„ ,.„,-_j. 

•ould not get it time enough from the lawyer, or 
he had signed it before he died. 

[Gives him a Paper. 

Per. Aleaaelforwhatt 

Col. F. 1 rented a hundred a year, farm from 
Sir Toby upon lease, which lease expires at Lady- 
day next, I desire to renew Ibr twenty years— 
Uiat 's all. Sir. ■ 

Per. Let me aee, [Looks ooer the leate.] Very 
"eil— Let me see what he aays in his will about 
A. [Lays Iht lease upon the table, and looks on. 
Ihe will.] Ho, here it is— The farm bjiTtg—now 



■s fcase- 



it ike SI 



well, Mr. Pillage, I see my uncle doea n 
and I'll perform his wiii.^Qive me the lease.— 
[CouosEL gives it him, lie looks upon it, and 
lays it upon the table.] Pray you Btep to the dooi, 
and call for pen and ink, Mr. Pillage. 

CW, F. I have a pen and ink in my pocket. 
Sir, [Pulls out on iTik-hern,] I never go without 

Per. 1 thinlt it belongs to your profesaion.- 
[He looks upon Ihe pen vihile Ike Colonei, 
changes the lease and lays down the contract.] 
I doulit this is bnt a sorry pen, though it may 
se,rve to write my name. [ Writes. 

Col. F. Little does he Ihink what he Hgns. 



ki-m the pa^er.] __ ._ 

what haste you can dovni to Coventry, and take 
care of every thing, and I'll send down the unJer- 
laber for the body ; do you attend it up, and what- 
ever chafes you are at I'll repay yoo. 

Col, F. You have piud me afreailv, I thank 
JO", Sir. [Asidt. 

Per, Will you dine with mef 

Col. F. I would rather not : there are some of 
my neighbours whom I met aa I came along, who 
leave the town this afternoon, they told me, and 
I should be glad of their company down. 

Per. WeB, weU, I won't detain you. I will 
mve orders about mourning. [Exit Colonei,.] 
Seven hundred a year! I wish he had died seven- 
teen years ago :— what a valuable collection of 
ranlies might I ha«e had by this time !— I might 
have travelled over all the known parts of the 
globe, and made my ovm cloaet rival the Vatican 
-' Rome— Odso, I have a good mind to begin my 

ivels now— let me see— 1 am but sixty ; my fa- 
ther, grandfather, and great erandfather, reached 
ninety odd ; I have abnoat forty years good : let 
onsider! what will seven hundred a year 
nt to in— ay ; in thirty years, £ say but thirty 
-—thirty times seven Is seven times thirty— that la 
-just twenty-one thousand pounds— 'tis a great 
deal of money — I may veiy well reserve sixteen 
hundred of it for a collection of such rarities as 
will make my name famous to posterity— I would 
not die hke other mortals, forgotten in a year or 
two, as my uncle will be — No, 

nature's curious works I'll raise my fame. 

Thai men till doomsday may repeat my name. 

[Exit. 



SCENE IV.— A Tavern 
FnEEMiN aitd Tkad 



^ a bottle. 

Trade. Come, Mr. Freeman, here 's mynheer 
Jan, Van, Tim, Tarn, Tam,— I shall never think 
of that Dutchman's name. 

Free. Mynheer Jan Van Timtamtirelerelella 
Heer Van Feignwell. 

Trade. Ay, Heer Van Feignwell: I never 
heard auc* a confounded name in my life— here s 
liB health, I say. 
Free. With all my heart. 
Trade, Faith, I never expected to have found 
10 generous a thing in a Dutchman, 

Free. As soon as I (old him your cireumstan- 
Ea, he replied, he would not be the ruin of any 
nan for the world— and immediately made this 
iroposal himself. Let him take what time he 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



142 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE. 



will For the payment, said he ; or, if he'll give me 
bis »orJ, I'll forgive hiin llie debt. 

Triule. Well, Mr, Freeman, I can but thank 
you. 'Egad, you have made a man of me a^n I 
and if ever 1 ky a wager more, may I rot in jail. 

Free. 1 assure you, Ml. Tradelova, I was very 
much concerned, because I vgaa the occasion, 
though very innocently, I proteKL 

TVorfe. I dare e 



T Colonel Pelgt 



as, Mr. Freeman. 
aDutcl 



ist, I promise 



LL, drei 



Col. F. Ha, mynheer Tradelove, Ik been soory 
voor your troubles— maer Ik sal you easie makcn, 
ik will de gelt die bebben — 

Tnule. I shajl for ever acknowledge the obliga- 

Free. But you uuderstanil upon what condi- 
tion, Mr, Tradelove ; Mis* Lovely. 

Col. F. Ya, de frow sal al te regt setten, myn- 

Trade. With all my heart, mynheer ; you shall 
have my consent to marry her freely. 

Free. Weil then, as I am a rarty Concerned 
between you, mynheer Jan Van Timtamtirelete- 
leUa Heer Van Feigowell shall give vou a dis- 
charge of your wager under his own hand — and 
CI shall give hiin your consent to marry Miss 
vely under yours— that is the way to avoid ail 
manner of disputes hereafter. 
CW. F. Ta, wceragtig. 

Trade. Ay, ay, so it^, Mr. Freeman ; III gi' 
it under mine this minute, [SUa doieit to lerit 
Col. F. And so Ik sal. [Daea the sam 

l^ee. Soho, the house! 

Enter Dkawbr. 



master come up— I'U see 
ough to the bargain. 
Enter Siokeut. 






Sack. Do you call, gentlemen 1 

Free. Ay, Mr. Saiibul, we shall want yout 
band here. 

Trade. There, mynheer, there's my consent 
as amply as yon can desire ; but you must insert 
your own name, for I know not how to spell it : I 
have left a blank for it. 

{Gives the Colonel apaper. 

Col. F. Ya, Ik sal dat well doen— 

Free. Now, Mr, Saekbut, yon and I will wit^ 
ncssit. [Tkey wrUe. 

Col F. Daer. mynheer Tradelove, is your dis- 
oharee, [GicM ftsm apoper, 

'fi-ade. Be pleased to witness this receipt too, 

[Freeman and Sackbut put their hands. 
. Free. Ay, ay. that we will. 
Col. F. Well, mynbear, ye most meer doen, ye 
most myn voorsprach to de m>w syn. 

Free. He means you must recommend him to 
lie lady— 

Trade, That I wiit, and to the rest of ray bro- 
ther guardians. 

Col F. Wat voor, de duyvel heb yon meer 

Trade. Only three, mynheer. 
Col. F. What douder heb ye myn betrocken, 
mynheer 1 — Had Ik dat gewoeten, iksoudeeaven 
nwt vou (reweest syii. 

r. Tradeiove is the principal, and 
it deal with the rest. Sir, 



Sack.^ 



Free. And he shall use hi 
you, mynheer, 

3Vflrfe, I will say all that ever I can think on 
to recommend you, mynheer ; and if you please, 
I'll introduce you to the lady. 

CoLF. Well,datiswaer— Maelyemustlirst 
spreken of myn to de frow, and to oiidere gentle- 

wst way — and the 
meet you there. 
Trade. 1 will go this moment, upon honour. 
Your most obedient hnmble servant. My speak- 
ing will do you little good, mynheer ; ha, ha I we 
have bit you, faith : ba, ha ! 
Well — my debt's discharg'd, and as Jot iVan, 
He has my amsent — to get her, if he can. [Exit. 
Co/. F. Ha, ha, ha! this was a masterpiece of 

Free. He hugs himself with his supposed good 
fortune, and little thinks the luck's on our side! 
But come, pursue the Hckle goddess, while she 's 
In the mood — Now for the quaker. 

Col. F. That's the hardest task. 

Ofal 



SCENE I.~ 



ACT V. 
I Aparlment in Prim's House. 



Prim and M iss Lovely, in (Quaker's 

dresses, meeting. 
P. So, now I like thee, Anne: ait (hon 
not better without thy monstrous hoop-coat and 
■jhesl If heaven should make thee so many 
:k spots upon thy &ee, would it not fright thee, 
Annef 
Miss L. If it should turn you inside outward, 
id show all the Bi>ots of your hypocrisy, 'twould 
fright me worse! 

Mrs. P. My hypocrisy ! I scorn thy words,. 
Anne : I lay no baits. 
Bliss L. if 
Mrs. P. ' 






lo know, Anne, that I could have catch- 
is (hou call'st tbem) in my time, 
it with all thy fb^traps about 



L. Is that the reason of your tbnnaUty, 
Primt Truth will out: I cverthought, io- 
, there was more design than godlinras in the- 
pinched cap. 

Mrs. P. Go, thou art corrupted with readi 






;d plays, and filthy romances — Ah! I wishthow 
Pray, n 



t not already I 



liliar with the wicked oi 
^miliar with the wicked ones ! 

. ..^ f those freedoms. Madam — I am 

femiliar with none so wicked aa yonraelf— How 
dare ^u thus talk to me ! you, you, you, unworthy 



[Burets 
Enter Tradelove. 
Trarfe. What, in tears, Nancy 1 What have 
you done to her, Mrs, Prim, to make her weepl 
Miss L. Done to me ! 1 admire I keep my 
oiseB among you ; but 1 will rid myself of your 
rranny, if there be either law or justice to be had. 
II force you to give me up ray liberty^ 
Mrs, P, Thou bast more need to weep for thy 
lis, Anne— Yea, for thy manifold sins. 



io;*^.OOglc 



1-1 



A BOLD STROKE POR A WIFE. 



MissL. Don't think that I'll be stiJl the fool 
which you have made me. No, I'll wear what . 
pleaao — go when and where I pleasB— and keep 
what company 1 think tit, and not what jou ahall 
direct — I will, 

Tiade. Foe my part, I do think all thia 
leaeonable, Mibb Lovely; 'tis lit you should 
your liberty, and for that very purpose I am e 
Enter Pehiwinkle and Obadiah Phim, with a 

Per. I have bought some black stockings of 
your husband, Mrs. Frtm, but he tells me the 
glover's trade belongs to yon ; therafbTo, I pray 
you look me out five or six dozen of mourning 
^oves, Buch as ace given at funerals, ajid send 
tbcm to my house, 

Obad. My friend, Periwinkle, has got a good 
wind&ll to-^y — eeven hundred a year. 

Mn. P. I prish thee joy of it, neighbour. 

Trade. What, is Sir Toby dead then 1 

Per. He is I Youll take care, Mrs. Prim. 

Mrs. P. Yea, I will, ndghbour. 

Obad. This letter recommendeth a speaker; 
'tis from Aminadab Holdfast of Bristol : perad- 
venture he will he here this night ; therefore, 
Sarah, do thou take care for his reception. 

[ Gives her the letter, 

Mti. p. ! will obey thee, [Exit. 

Obad. What art thou in the dumps for, Anne' 

Trade. We must marry her, Mr. Prim. 

Obad. Why truly, if we could find a husband 
worth having, 1 should be as glad Co see her mar- 
ried as than wouldst ueighbour. 

P&r. Well said, there are but few worth hav- 

Trade. 1 can recommend you a mau now, that 

1 think you ran none of you have an objection to ! 

Enter Sih Philjp Modelove, 

Per. You recommend 1 Nay, whenever she 
marries, I'll recommend the husband — 

Sir P. Whal, must it ba a whale, or a rhi- 
noceros, Mr. Periwinkle 1 ha, ha, ba ! 

Per. He shall be none of the fops at your end 
of the town, with full perukes and emp^ skulls, 
— nor yet any of our trading gentry, who puzzle 
«ie heralds to find arms for their coaches. No 
he shall be a man famous for travels, solidity, and 
curiosity— one who has searched into the profun- 
dity of nature ! When heaven shall direct such 
■ one, he shall have my consent, becansa it may 
turn to the benefit of mankind. 

MissL. The benefit ofmankind! What, would 

"' P. 

Oope, to see how your blood circulates from the 
crown of your h«id to the sole of your foot — ha, 
bal but I have a husband for yon, a man that 
knowa how to improve your fortune ; one that 
trades to the four comers of the globe, 

MisaLi. And would send me foraventureper- 

Trade. One that will dress yon in all the pride 

of Europe, Asia. Africa, and America a Dutch 

merchant, my girl. 

Sir P. A Dutchman ! ha, ha 1 there 's a hus- 
band for a fine lady, — Yafrow, will you meet myn 
slapea — ha, ha ! he'll learn you to talk the lan- 
guage of the ho^, Madam, ha, ha! 

"Trade, He'H leach you that one merchant is 



the Italian &n ! the Flanders lace I the fine Dutch 
holland ! how would they vent their scandal ovet 
the teatables 1 and where would your boain have 
Champagne to toast their mistresses, were it not 
for the merchant 1 

Obad. Verily neighbour Tradelove, thou dost 
waste thy breath about nothing — All that thou 
hast said tendeth only to debauch youth, and fill 
[heir heads with the pride and luxury of this 
world,— The merchant la a very great friend to 
Satan, and sendeth as many to nis dominions as 
the Pope, 

Per, Right ; I Eay, knowledge makes the man. 

Obad. Yea, but not thy kind of knowledge— it 
is the knowledge of truth — Search thou for tho 
hght within, and no fo baubles tr nd, 

MissL. Ah, study y ur untrys aood, Mt. 
Periwinkle, and n t fie n eels — R 3 you of 
your homebred monsters before you fetch any 
from abroad. — I da e swea you ha e maggots 
enough in your own b n to s ock. all the vir- 
tuosos in Europe w h t tt H 

Sir P. By my so 1 Miss Nancy s a wit. 

Obad. That ih rao han sb an ay of thee, 
friend. — Lookye, 'tis in vain to talk; when I meet 
a man worthy of her, she shall have my leave to 
marry him. 

Miss L. Provided he be of the feilhful — Was 
there ever such a svrarmof cslerpillarstoblast the 
hopes of a woman ! [Aside.] Know thi^ that you 
contend in vain: I'll have no husband of your 

nosing, nor shall you lord it over me long, — — 

1 try flie power of an English senate — Orphans 

did ever deserve their pity more. — O Peignwell ! 

...1 jIjj promises to free me from these 

las I the task vras more difficult than 



A harder task than lehal the poett tell 

Of yore, the /air Andromeda befell i 

She but one monster fear'd, I'vefour to/ear, 

And see no Perseus, no deliv'TSr near. [Exit. 



Obad. The woman is mad. 
Sir P. So are you aU, in my omnion. [Exil. 
Serv. [Whispers to OBADiAirJ One Simon 
Pure inquireth for thee. [B.-cit. 

Obad. Friend Tradelove, business requireth 

Trade. Oh, I shan't trouble you — Pos take 
him for an nnmannerly dog — miwever, t have 
kept my word with my DQlchman, and I'll intro- 
duce him too for all you. 

Enter Colonei,, in o Quuter'a habii. 

Obad, Friend Pure, thou art welcome : how is 
it with friend Holdfast, and all friends in Bristol 'i 
Timothy Liltlewortb. John Slenderbrain, and 
Christopher '^ -'■--''- " 

health. I tliank tiiee'f 
Obad. Friend Holdfest writes me word, thai 
ou camest lately from Pennsylvania ; how do ab 
friends there 1 

Col. P. What the devil shall I say? I tnow 

9t as much of Pennsylvania us I do of Bristol. 

[As^df 



i„^.OOglQ 



STROKE FOR A WIFE. [ac 

^ What is the matter! why didst 



.sfall 
Ejilerl 



upon 



3. Phim anrfiMtBs Lovet,y. 
Obad. Sarah, Itnow our friend Pure. 

Mrs. P. Tliou art welcome. [He salKlei her. 

CbI,F. HerecomestlieBUinofBllmywiBheB— 

How cliBrming slie appears even in tliat disguise ! 

[Aside. 

Obad, Why dost thou consider the maiden so 

attentively, friend 1 

Col. F. I will tell thee : about four days ago 1 
now a vJMon — Tiiis very maiden,, but in vain at- 
tire, Btandins on a prndpice, and beard a voice 
which called me by my name — and bid me put 
forth my hand and save her from the pit, — 1 did 
80, and methought the damsel grew unto my side 

Mrs. P. What can that portend 1 

Obad. The liamael's conversion— I am pei 
Buaded. 

^^lss L. That 's felso, I'm aare— [Asidt 

Obad. Wilt thou use the means, friend Pure 

Col. F. Means ! what means 1 is she not thy 
daughter, already one of the feithfu! ? 

Mrs, P. Ho, alas ! she 's one of the ungodly. 

Obad. Pray thee mind what thia good oiann 
say unto thee : he will tench thee 3ie way thou 
shouldst walk. Anno. 

ARss L. I bnow my way without his 
tion : I hoped to have been quiet when once 1 had 
put on your odious formaUty here. 

Col. F. Then thou wearest it out of compu 
sion, not choice, friend 1 

Miss L. Thou art in the right of it, friend— 
. Mrs. P. Art thou not ashamed to mimic tt 
good man ! Ah ! thou stabbom girl. 

Col. F. Mind her not; she liurtelh not me— 
If thou wilt leave her alone with me, I will dis- 
cuss Bome few points with her, that may per- 
chance soften herslubboniiieBS,and melt her mto 
compliance. 

Obad. Content : I pray thee put it bome to her. 
—Come, Sarah, let us leave the good man with 

Miss L. [Catching hold o/"Peim; lie breaks 
loose ! exe-ani Obid. and Mrs, P.] What, do 
yon mean to leave me with this old enthusiastical 
oanter! don't think, because I complied with your 
formality, to impose your ridiculous doctrine upon 

Col. F. I pray thee, young woman, moderate 

Miss L. I pray thee, walk after thy leader, you 
will but lose your labour upon me. — These 
wretches will certainly make me mad ! 

Col. F. I am of another opinion ! the spirit 
lelleth me I sbail convert thee, Anne. 

Miss L. 'Tis a lying spirit, don't believe it. 

Col. F. Say'st thou sol Why then thou shall 
wjnvBrt me, my angel. 

[Catching fter in his orms. 

Miss L. [Shrieks.] Ah ! monster, hold off, or 
111 tear thy eyes out, 

Cd. F. Hush ! for heaven's sake — dost thou 
not know mel I am Peignwell. 

Miss ti, Feignwell ! 

Re-enter ObadIjIH Prim. 






shriek 01 

Jfiss i,: Shriek out ! I'll ahr iek and shriekagain 
cry murder, thieves, or any thing, to drown the 
noise of that eternai babbler, if you leave me with 
him any long er. 

Obad. Was that all 1 Fie, lie, Anne. 

Col. F. Nomalter,riibringdowniier6tomadi, 
I'll warrant thee— Leave us, f pray thoH? 

Obad. Fare thee well. Verily, I was afraid 
(he flesh had got the belter of the spirit. [Exit, 

Col. F. My charming lovely woman ! 

[EmbTates her. 

Miss L. What meanest thou by this d 



"■yE' 



=". To set thee 



:ee, if thou wilt perform 
itreas of my fortune, and 



,y pronust 

Miss L. Make 
make thy own con _ 

CdZ. F. This night shall answer all my wishes. 
--.See here I have the consent of three of thy 
guardians already, doubt not but Prim will malte 
the fourth. [Ob*dhh lislening. 

Obad. 1 would gladly hear what arguments toe 
good man useth toliend her, [Asida, 

Miss L. Thy words give me new life, me- 
thinks, 

Obad. What do 1 hear 1 

Miss L. Thou best of men, heaven meant ti) 
bless me sure, when I first saw thee. 

Obad. He hath mollified her; O wonderful 

Col. F. [SoJlly.\ Hi 



I listening.— No 
•- '-iedift. 



hopes that thou wilt turnquaker, 
lu iRnc [lie rtst to me, [AIovjl.] I am glad to 
nd that thou art touched with vthat i saQ unto 
lee, Anne; another time I will explain theothei 
tide unto thee: in the meanwhile, be thou duti- 
il to our friend Prim. 
Miss L. I shall obey thee in every thing. 

FObadiah comes jSrwaird. 

Obad. o^ -■- 

thou hast wrought a 

dost thou like the doctrine hi 

Miss L. So well, that I could talk to him for 
iver, methinks — I am ashamed of my former folly, 
ind ask your pardon. 

Col. F. Enough, enough, th 
le is no pope, Anne. 

Obad. True, I am no pope, Anne, 
hou dost rejoice me exceedingly, " ' ' 



Veril^f, 



walk i 



ish thy self 1- 

Ciil.F. We will foUow thee. 



iingly, friend: 
.u liie next room, anu re- 
take the moriden by the 



J. The 



Enter Servant. 

n other Simon Pure, inqnireth 



for thee, master. 

Col. P. The devil there is. [Aside. 

Obad, Another Simon Pure ! 1 do not knov» 
him, is he any relation of Ihine 1 

Col. P. No, friend, I know him not.— Poi late 
him; I wish he were in Pennsylvania again, with 
all my soul. lAsida 

Miss L. What shall I dol 

Obad. Bring him up. 

Col. F. Humph I then one of us must go down, 
at 's certain. — How, impudence assist me. 

[Aside. 



,y Google 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE. 



145 



Enier Simon Pure. ■ 
Obad. What ia thy will with me, friendl 
Simon. Didat thou not receive a letter from 

Aminailab Hold&st, of Bristol, coneernin 

Simon Pure! 
Obad. Yea, and Simon Pate is already here, 

Cot, P. And Simon Pure will elay here, ftiend, 
ifil be possible, [Aside 

Siaum. Tliat'san untruth, fori «m he. 

Col. P. Take thou heed, friend, what thou 
dost, saj : I do affirm that I am Simon Pure 

Simon. Thy name may be Pure, friend, b 
not that Pure. 

Col. F. Yea, thai Pure which my good frien 
Aminadab Hold&st, wrote to mv mend Pri 
about ; the same Simon Pure that came fro 
Ponnsyltania, and Bojournod in Bristol elevt 
days: thou wouldst not take my name from nu., 
wouldst thou T — till I have done with it. [Aside 

Simon. Thy came ! I am aafonjshed ! 

Col.F. At whatlat thyownaSBUranceT 
[Going up to him, Simon Purs elarCs back. 

Smoa. Avaunt^ Satan, approach me not; I 



defy thee, and all tW w< 

Misg L, Oh, he'll out-cant 
done for eie 



-Undone 



[Aside. 

Col. F. Hark thee, friend, thy sham will not 
lake— Don't erert thy voice, thou art too well ac- 
quainted with Satan to start at him, thou vricked 
reprobate— What can thy design be here 1 

BnUr a SehVint, toko gives FnrM a lelCer. 

Obad. One of these must be a counterfeit b 
which 1 cannot eay. 

Col. F. What can that letter he '! 

Simon. Thou muat be Ibe devil, friend, that . 
oectMU ; for no human power can speak ao great 
■ falsehood. 

, Obad. This letter flayeth that thc_ „ _, 

acquainted with that prince of darkness, than any 
h«T!.— Read that, I pray thee, Simon. 

_ _ _ [Gives it to the C01.OHEL, 

CoL F. [Reads,] There U a design fioTned to rob 
yoar louse tlas night, and out your throat ; and for 
that parpose tkere if a wan dtsniiised liie a quiAer, 
r^o ism past fp, one Simon Ptae.- the gang, wliere- 
rf / am one, Uioagli n™ resolved to rob no more, /tas 
teen al BnUol: one of Oian. came in the coooi with 
Ikeqiiaier, Bihose name Ae Aalh taken ; arid, from what 
he hath gathered from him, forjned Ihat design, and 
did not doubt that he thonld impose so far upon you 
di to laake you turn out the real Simon Pure, and 
keen hhn utfS i/ou. Make lie right use of this. 



Simon. Yea, but it movethme not; thatdoi^- 
lees is the impostor, 

[Pointing at the Colonel, 

Col. F. Ah! thou wickal one — now I consider 
Ay &ce, I remember thou didst come up in the 
lo^hem conveniency with me— thon hadat a black 
Iwb-wig on, and a hrown camlet coat with brass 
bnllons, — Canst thou deny it, ha 1 

Sinwn. Yes, I can, and withaaafe conscience 
Mo, friend. 

Obad. Verily, friend, thou art the most unpn- 



dent villain I ever saw. 

Miss L. Nay, thef 

[Aside. 1 I remember 

Vol.!., ,T 



I'll h 






that picked my lady 
■This 



Raffl. , __^__ _ ^, 

ber that the mob pumped you, friend 

ia the most notorious rogue 

Simon. What does provoke Ihea to seek my 
lifel Thou wilt not hang me, wiit thou, wrong- 

Obad. She will do thee no hurt, nor thou shall 
3. therefore getthee about thy business, 



friend, 1 
thou mayesC n 



e thy VI 



eked c 



e off s, 



rably e 



. . . . put him forth. 

CoL F. Go, friend, I would advise thee, and 
tempt thy fate no more, 

Simon. Yes, I will go ; but it shall be to thy 
oontiision ; for 1 shall clear myself; I will return 
with some proofe that shall convince thee, Oba- 
diah, that thou art highly imposed on, [Exit. 

Col. F, Then there will be no slaying for me 

at 'b certain— what the devil shall Idol 

[Aside. 

Obad. What monMrous works of iniquity are 
there in this world, Simon 1 

Col.F. Yea,theagei8fullofvioe 'Sdaath, 

I am so confounded I know not what to say. 

Obad. Thou art disordered, friend- art thou 
not well 1 

Col. F. My apirit is greatly troubled, and some- 
thing telieth me, that though I have wrought a 
good work in converting this maiden, this lender 
— aiden, yet ray labour will be in vain; for the 
'il spirit fighteth againat her: and 1 see, yea, 1 
see with the eye of my inward man, that Satan 
wdl re-buffet her again, whenever I withdraw 
lyself from her, and aha will, yea, this very dam- 
•X will return again to that abomination from 
'hence I have retrieved her, as it were, yea, as \i 
were out of the jaws of the fiend. 
Miss L. I must second him. [Aside\ What 



IS ! The damsel is filled with die spirit 

Ellin- Mrs. Prim. 
Mrs. P. I am greatly rejoiced to see such a 
change in our beloved Anne, 1 came to tell thee, 
' ' at supper stayeth for thee. 

Col. P. I am not disposed for thy food ; my 

irit iongeth for mora delicious meat!- fein 

Duld I redeem this maiden from the tribe of ain- 

ners, and break tliose corda asunder wherewith 

L, Something whispers in my ears, me- 
thinks— that I must be subject to the will of this 
]od man, and from him only must hope for con- 
ilation — hum— It also telleth me that 1 am a 
losen vessel to raise up seed to the fidthfol, and 
lat thou must consent that we two be one flesh 
according to the word^hum — 

Obad. What a revelation ia here I This ia cbf- 
inly part of thy vision, ftiend ; this ia the mai- 
n's growmg unto thy sida ; ah ! with what wU- 



)uld I give thee ._. , „ 

ive thee her fortune too — but thou wtit neve 
le consent of the vjicked ones. 
Col. F. I wish I was sure of yonrs, [A 
Obad. Thy soul rejoiceth, yea, rejoiceth, 1 
• find Ihe spirit within thee; for lo, it mt 






r,l^,OOgLC 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIFE. 



All. Hl._. . 

iWiss L. 1 see, I see I the spirit guiding of thy 
hand, good Obadiah Prim, and now beliolJ thoa 
art sigriing tliy consent and now I aee myself 
within thy arms, my friend and brother, yea, I 
am become bone of thy bone, and flesli of thy 
Seth. [Embracing him.] Hmn— 

Mrs. P. The spirit liatli greatly moved them 
both— friend Prim, thou must consent ; there 'a 
no I'eBisting of the spirit ! 

Obad. Fetch me the pen and ink, Sarah — and 

my liand shall coniess ite obedience to the spirit, 

[Exit Mrs. Pbim. 

Col. F. I wish it BB« over. [Aside 

lle-enler Mrs. Prim, urffft pen and ink. 

Miet L. I tremble lest this quaking rogue ehoald 
return, itnd spoil all. [Aside. 

Obad. Here, friend, do thoa write what the 
snirrt prompteth, and I will sign it. 
>• '' ^ ' ^oi.. P. »to down. 

Cut. F. [Reads.] This is to crrlify lo oH akm il 
nWB cmicem, Oiat I do fredy give alt my right dntf 
HlU in Anne Lonely to Simon Pure, and my fall 
content tlial she iJuiU become hii vnfe aeconimg to 
the form of marriage. Wilneaa my hand. 

Obad. That 'e enough— give me the pen. 

. [Signs it. 
Enter Betty, running to Miss Lovelt. 

Betty. Oh I Madam, Madam, here's the qua- 
king man again : he has brought a coachman, and 
two or three more. 

Miss L. Ruined past redempUoii 1 

[Aside to the Colonel. 

Cot. F. No, no; one mmute sooner had spoil- 
ed all ; but now — here 's company coming, friend, 
give me the paper. 

r Going to Prim hastily. 

Obad. Here it is, Simon ; and 1 wish thee 
nappy vrith the maiden. 



AHts L. 'Tis done; and n 



Enter Simon Pore, Cos 



I, do thy 



■i, and olhers. 



SSnuHi. Look thee, friend, Ihavebroughtthf 
people lo sadsfy thee that I am not the impostor 
which thou didat take me for: this is the man that 
did drise the leathern conveniency, and brought 
nwyrom Bristol— and this is — 

Col. F. Look^e, friend, to save the court the 
trouble of examining witneaaes — I plead guilty. 






Obad. How 'a 

No, really, 



y name Pui 



: I only made bold with 
Wiie gentleman'a.narne — ^bnt here I give it np safe 
and sound ; it 'has done the business 1 had occa- 
sion for. and now I intend to wear my own, which 
ihall he at his sertice upon the name occasion 
iny time. — Ha, ha, ha ' 
' Simort. Oh! the wickedness of the age! 

[Elit CO*CHM«N, 4 

Obad. I am Struck dumb with thy impudem 
Anne; thou hast deceived mo— and- perchan 
undone thyself. 

Mrs. P. Thou art a dissembling baggage, ai 
•hame will overtake tht«. [Ei 



rieved to see thy wife so much 
troubled ; I will &llow and console her. [Exit 
Enter Servant. 
Serv. Thy brother guardians inquire for thee 
here is another man with theai. 

Miss h. Who can that oUier ' " 

OA. F. 'Tis Freeman, a friei-_ .. . , 

I ordered lo bring the rest of the guardians here. 



Free. la all safe % Did my letter do you sct- 
Coi. F. All, all 's safe ! amjje service. 

Sir P. Miss Nancy, how dost do, child % 

Miss L. Don't eaU me Miks, fiiend FMUp; 
ly name is Anne, thou knowest. 

SIt p. What, is Ihe ^1 metamorphosed 1 

Miss L, I wish thou wert so metamorphosed 
Ah ! Philip, throw off that gaudy attire, and wear 
the elothes becoming thy age. 

Obad. I am ashamed to see these men. 

[Aside. 

Sir P. My age I the woman is possessed. 

Col. F. No, thou art possessed rather, fiiend. 

Trade. Harkye, Miss Lovely, one word with 

)U. [Takes hold iff her hand. 

Col. F. This maiden is my wife, thmiks to my 
friend Prim, and thou hast no boslneas with her. 

Trade. His wife I harkye, Mr. Freeman. 

Per. Why you have made a very fine piece of 

irk of it, Mr. Prim. 

Sir P. Married to a quaker! thou art a fine 
fellow to be left guardian to an orphan truly — 
' ere 's a husband for a young lady ! 

CW. F. When I have put on my beau clolhea, 

r Philip, yon'll Uke me better- 
Sir P. Thou wilt make a very scurvy beau — 

Col. F. Ibelievelcanprovftitunderyonrhand, 
(hat you thought me a very fine gentleman in the 
Park t'other day. about thirty-six minutes after 
eleven ; will you take a pinch. Sir Philip ^— One 
of the finest snuff-boxes you ever saw. 

[OJers him snuff. 

^r P. Ha, ha, ha ! I am oveijoyed, 'feith I 
am, if thou best the gentleman— I own I did give 
my consent to the gentieman I brought here lf>- 
day— but whether this is he t can't be positive. 

Obod. Canst thou not 1— Now I think thou art 
a fine fellow lo be left guardian to an orphan. — 
Thoa shallow-brained shuttlecock, he may be a 
pickpocket for aught thou dost know. 

Per. You would have been two rare fellows to 
have been intrusted with the sole management of 
her fortune; would ye not, think yel But Mr. 
Tradelove and myself shall take care of her por- 

e willl — Didn't yon tt 
t desired me to meet hi. 
here, Mr. Freeman 1 

■ Free. I ilW so, and 1 am sure he will be here, 
if you'll have a Utile patience. 

Col. F. What, is Mr, Tradelove impatient! 



, Google 



A BOLD STROKE FOR A WIPE. 



147 



Col. P. Tricked, Mr. Tradelove ! did not 
jive you two thousand pounds for your consei 
Fairly 1 And now do you leli a gentleman he hi 



, and: 



■■ Ay, aj 
■-but ri 



— I confess the maiden o 



ever finger a 

penny of her money, I warrant jou— over-reacft 
eil, quotha ! Why I might have been over-reach- 
ed too, if 1 had no more wit ; I don't know but 
this very fellow may be him that vras directed to 
me from Grand Cairo t'other day. Ha, ha, ha J 

Coi. F. The very sHma. 

Per. Are you so, Sir T but your Iriok would 
not pass apon me. 

Coi. P. No, aa you say, at that time it did not, 
that waa not my lucky hour— but, harkye, Sir, I 
must let you into one secret— you may kaep honest 
John TradBHcant's coat on, for your uncle. Sir 
Toby Periwinkle, is not dead — so the charge of 
mourning will be saved, ha, ha, ha I — Don't you 
remember, Mr. Pillage, your uncle's stewards 
Ha, ha, ha ! 

Per, Wol dead ! I begin to fear I am (ricked 



Col. P. You read a lease, I grant you ; but you 
signed this contract. {ShBwing a paper. 

Per, How durst you put this trick upon me, 
Mr. Freeman 1 Didn't you tell me my unde was 
dying 1 

piie. And would tell you twice as much lo 
serve my friend, ha, ha I 

Sir P. What, the learned and femous Mr. 
Periwinkle choused too!— Ha, ha, ha I— I shall 

witted us all, 



Coi. F. Don't 



^member the signing of a 



Per. Well, and what agnilie! 
uncle is not dead t — Ha I lam ai 
1 signed. — 

Col. F. Ay, but it was a lease for life. Sir, and 
uf this beautiful tenement, I thwk you. 

[Takes hold ofTAissl,. 

Omnea, Ha, ha, ha ! Neighbour's fare. 

Free. So then, I find, you are all tricked, ha, 

ha! ■-' '^ 

IB {Jain's lease as 



TVode. A beau 1 nay, then she is finely he!p- 

Mies L. Why beaux are great encouragers of 
trade, Sir, ha, ha, ha I 

Col. F. ]jook ye, gentlemen— 1 am the person 
who can give the best account of myself; and I 
must beg Sir Philip's pardon, when: I tell him, 
that I have as mu.-b aversion to what he calls dress 
and breeding, as I have to the enemies of my re- 
ligion. I have had the honour to serve his ma- 
jesty, and beaded a. ragunent of the bravest fellows 
that ever pushed bayonet in the throat of a French- 
man ; and notwithstanding the fortune this lady 
brings me, whenever my country wants my aii 
this sword and arm are at her service. 



And now, my fair.^fihoa'U but deign (o i 
Imttl a reeom^niefor all my toil: 
Lone and Tdigum ne'er admit resfroinf. 



■BafOataiKeJix'd.'tie pait tie poKerof 
■IbcAass lie dear idea front the heart: 
'Tia-Hbertyef ch<ncelMlavxeleniUfe, 
ihketlAeguid'iiuband, and ^ Aoppyin 



riifc. 



./Google 



MIDAS: 

AH* ENOZ.ISH BUB.I.ETTA, 



IN TWO ACTS. 



BY KANE O'HARA. 





REMARKS. 


THemj.II»1ogyoflhe 


ancients has fliraishod subJeclB for ridicule in th 




abaurd for burlesque. Tlie hnmour of this p, 


pparenl on Ihe stage; 


Wed. [lowever, by Ibe powers of the orcheslra. 


oloyEdal our royal thea 


les, it never fails to please and alltact. This pi 


oundils appropriate pla 


e as an atletpiete. 



Mbrodki 

MlNBEVA, 

Bellona 



Mr Legg 
Mr Stephens. 
Mt Dibdm 



Sir Shuler 
Mr FawceU 
Mr Beard 
Mm Podter 
MfaMdler 



Mr CaJSeli. 
Mr Rh^s 
Mr Jones 
Mr Uii6on<, 
Mamer Wet 



Abss Watson 



Mr Sieli 
Mr Wathen 
Mr Digaum 
Jttisi 3 Wr 
Mre. Mounia 



M 


TYnnej, 




si^a-. 


Mr 


Simiair. 


« 
















Mr 


.Daviei. 


JWrtiVbrmon 



races, Altendants, Chorassea, &c, &c. 
Mount Olympus, afterwards on the Pasti 



Thecartain riting discovers Ihe Bealhen Deities, 
eeaied amidst the clouds, inJiiU eoancil: they 
address JtievtKB in ike fotUneing Chorus. 



"With his nods 
Men and gods 

When he winka, 
Heaven shrinks ; 
When he speaks, 
Hell aqueaks; 
Earth's ijlobe is b 
148 



o; *^.OOg IC 



Cock of the school, 
He bears despotic rule ; 
His word, 
Though absurd, 
Must be law. 
Even FiUe, 
Though 90 great, 
Must not prate ; 
His bald pale 
Jove would cuff 
He '8 so bluff, 
For a straw: 
Cow'd deities, 



Jup. rfii!ing'.]lnimortale,you haseheardyour 
plaintive sov'reign, 
And uulprit Sol's high crimes. Shall we 






imple. 



As fiir jou, Juno, curb your prying 
We'll make you, to your cost tnow- 
empemr. 

JiuKi. Ill take the taw. [To Jupiter.] My 
proctor, with a summons, 
Shall cite you. Sir, t'appear at Doctors' Commons. 
Jup. Let him— hut first I'll chase from heaven 



Think not, lewd Jove, 

Thus to wrong my chaste love; 

For, spite of your rakehelly godhead. 
By day and by night, 
Juno will have her right. 

Nor ha, of dues nuptial, defrauded. 
ITl ferret the haunts 
Of yoar female gallants ; 

In vain you in darkness enclose them ; 
Your &vourite jades 
Fll plunge to the shades, 

Or mto cows metamorphose them. 
Jap. Peace, termagant — ! swear by Styx, our 



Be by your friends advised. 

Too rash, too hasty dad ! 
Mau^ your bolts and wiso head, 

The world will think yon mad. 
What worse can Bacchus (each men. 

His roaring bucks, when drunk, 
Than break the lampa, beat watchmen. 

And stagger to some punk 1 
Jup. You sancy scoundrel— there, Sir. — Come, 

iJown, Phcebua, down lo earth, we'll hear no 

further. 
Soil, thunders, roll ; blue lightnings flash about 



The 



ind our sky can da without him. 
[TTi-ander and lightning. Jup[TEft rforis a 
bolt at him i ht falls; — Jopiteb re-assames 



hia throne, and the Gods ail ascend togetlteT 
singing^ the initial ekorus ; 
Jove in his chair, iScc. 
SCENE II— A Champaign eauTUry, viilh a dia- 

taid ViRage. 
Violenl storm of thtaider and Ugkining. A shep- 
herd slewing in the JUid is roused by it, and 
runs away ^frightened, leaving his cloak, hat, 
and guitar, behind him. — Apoi.lo (as east 
from Heaven) falls to the earth, -aUh a rude 
shock, and lies for a tchtle stunned ; at length 

'ng forviard, speaJts. 

Apal. Zooks ! what a crush ! a pretty, detent 

Kind usage, Mr. Jove — sweet Sir, your humble. 
Well, down I am; — no bones broko, though sora 

pspper'd I 
Here doom'd to stay.— What can I dol— turn 

shepherd— [Puts on the cloak, i^c. 

A lucky thought.— -In this disguise, Apollo 
No more, but Pol the swain, some flock Til folbw. 
Nor douhl I, with my voira, guitar, and person, 
Among the nympha to kick up some diversion, 

Sil. Whom have we here 1 a sightly clown ! — 
and sturdy : 
Hum — plays, I see, upon the hurdy-guidy. 
H«=n.s out of place — a stranger- all m tatters ; 

re him — he'll divert my wife and daughters. — 
Whence, and what art thou, boy J 

P.il. An orphan lad. Sir. 
Pol is my name — a shepherd once my dad, Sir ' 
'th' up[ier parts hero— though not born to serving. 



Sa. Since you mean to hire for service. 
Come with me, you jolly dog ; 
You can help to bring home harvest. 
Tend the sheep, and feed the hi^. 

Fa,1a,ia 
With three crowns, your ataiiding wages, 

You shaU daintily be fed ; 
Bacon, beans, salt beef, cabbages, 
Buttermilk, and oaten bread. 

Fa, la, la. 
Come, strike hands, you'U hva in clover. 

When we get you once at home ; 
And when daily labour's over. 

We'll dance to your strum-slrum. 

Fa, la, la, 
Pol. I strike hands, I take your olfer. 
Farther on I may ftre worse; 
Zooks, 1 can no longer sufier 

Hucgiry fua and empty purse. 

Fa, la, [a 
SU. Do strike hands ; 'tis kind 1 oiler ; 
Pol. I strike hands, and lake your offer; 
Sil. Farther seeking yoult fare worse ; 
Pol. Farther m< 1 may fiire worse, 
Sil. Pity such a lad should suiler, 
Pol. Zooks, I can no longer suffer, 
Sil. Hungry gufs and empty purse, 
Pol. Hungry guts and empty purse. 

Fa, la, la 
[Exevnt, danHng and singing. 



r,l^,0(1gLC 



160 MI 

SCENE i7J.— SiLENo's f^rm-flbtHB. 

Enter Daphne and Ntsa. . 

. Daph. But, Njsa, how goes on Squire Midas' 

courtship I 
Nt/sa. Your eweet Damffitaa, pimp to his great 
wotahip, 
Efought Qie aim him a purse ; — but the oondi- 

I've cur'd him I believe of such commissionf 
Daph,. The moon calf! This must blast him 

with my lather, 
Kysa. Right. So we're rid of the two inghl. 

together. 
Bolk. Ha, ha, ha!— ha, ha, ha! 

Enter MTsrs. 
Mi/sie. Hey-Jayl what male's nest's foundl- 
—For Bvef grinning : 
^e rantipoles — is'ttbus you mind your spinning' 

Girta are known 
To mischief prone, 

If ever they be idle. 
W ho would rear 
Two daughtera fair 

Must hold a steady bridle. 
For here they skip, 
And there they trip. 

And this and that way sidle. 
Giddy miuds, 
Poor aiily jades, 

All aner men are gadding ; 
They ffirt poll-mell, 
Thar train to swell, 

To coxcomb, coicomb adding : 
To every fop 
They're cock-a-hoop, 

And set their mothers madding. 

Enter Stleno, introducing Pol, 

Sil, Now, dame and girls, no more let's hear 

you grumble 

At loo hardtoil ; — I chanc'd just now to stumble 

On this stout drudga— and hir'd him— fit for la- 

To 'em, lad — then he can play, and sing, and caper. 
Jl^is. Finerubbishtobnng hame;^astrol^ng 
thiummer I 
What ^rt thou good for'! speak, thou ragged mum- 
mer I [To Pol, 

Nyaa. Mother, for shame 

Mysis. Peace, saueebox, or I'll maul you. 
Pol. Goody, my atrength and parts you under- 

For Ms or your wort, I am brisk and handy, 

Daph, A sad cheat else 

Mgsia. What you, you jack-a-dandy 1 



Pol. Pray, goody, please to moderate the ran- 
cour of^your tongue : 
Why flash those sparks of ftuy frcmi 

Rememlier, when the judgment's weak, 
the prejudice is strong; 
A stranger why will you despise % 
Ply me. 



Oft; you blast 
Prfty, goody, &;. 
■Mj/sis. Sirrah, this insolence cleserves a dnib- 



ra. "^ithw 



Prove ero you deny me, 



what sweet temper he bears ail her 
snubbing ! 

Sil. Oona, no more words,; Go, hoy, and 

get your dinner. [RxitPot^ 

Fie, why so cross-grain'd to a young Seginier? 

Nysa, So modest i 



SiL [TbMTSia,] Not pert, nor lumpish. 

Mysia. Would he were hang'd ! 

Nysa. Daph. La! mother, why so frumpish! 



Nysa. I 



lamma, how can you be so ill-natur'd 
To the gentle, handsome swain 'i 
Daph. To a lad so limb'd, so featur'd, 
Sure 'ris cruel to give pain. 
Sure 'tis cruel, iStc. 
Mysis. Girls, for you, my fears perplex me, 

I'm alalm'd on your aw^ount ; 
m. Wife, in vain you tease and vei me, 

I will rule, depend upon't. 
Nyio. Ah! ah! 
Daph. Mammal 

Nyea. Mamma, how can you be so ill-natut'd 1 
Daph. Ah, ah, to a lad so limb'd and ieatur'd t 
Nyaa. To the ^ntle, handsome swain, 
Dapk. Sure 'tis cruel to give pain ; 
Nysa. Sure 'tis cruel lo give pain; 
Daph. To the gentle, h^idsome swain. 
Mysis. Girls, for you my fears perples me, 

I'm alarm'd on your account. 
Sil. Wife, in vam you tease and vex me, 

I vnll rule, depend upon't. 
Nysa. Mamma I 
i'h/sis. Pshaw ! Pshaw ! 
Daph. Papa ! 
Sil. Ah! ahl 

Daph, Mamma, how can you be so ill-natur'd, 
SU. Pshaw, pshaw, you must not be so ilk 

natar'd; 
Nysa. Ah, ah, to a lad so limb'd, so featur'd 1 
Daph. To thegentla, handsome swain. 
SU. He 'a a gentle, handsome swain. 
Nysa, Sure 'tis crtiel to give pain. 
Mysis. 'Tis my pleasure to give pdn. 
Daph. Sure 'tis cruel to ^ve pam. 
Sil. He 's a gentle, handsome swain. 
Nysa. To the gentle, handsome swun, 
Hiysis, To your odious, ftv'rite swain. 

[Exeunt. 



skittish. 
Mid, I'll have her, cost \ 

I'll force her 

Dam. A halter 

Mid. As for madam ; I'l 
ome fevour'd lout incog, o 



t 'twill. OdEbobi, 



io=isdo/GoogIc 



To fliii^ poor Piin, but soon I'll send him scamper- 

'Sblood. i^ commit him— drive him to the gaUows ! 
Where is old Pan i 
Dam. Tippling, Sir, at th' alehouse. 
Md, Run fetch him— we shall hit on aome ex- 
pedient 
To rout this Pol. 

Dam. Ifly; [emus': retarm.] Sir, your obe- 
dient. [.Exit. 
Mid. What boots mj being squira, 

J nstice of peace, end quorum ; 
Churchwarden — ^knight o' the ahire, 

And cuBtoB rotulorum ; 
If sauby liUle Njaa'a hesrt, lebellious, 
M J sqaireship shghta.and hankers aiter fellows^ 

Shall a paltry clown, not fit to wipe my shoee. 

Dare my amours to cross 1 

Shall a peasant minx, wh^n Justice Midaa woos, 

Her nose up at him toaa t 

No. I'll kidnap then poaaess her ; 

m sell hor Pol a slave, get mnndnngns in ei- 
change: 

So glut lo the height of pleasuri'. 



SCE!VE v.— A Village Alehouse Door. 
Pa"1 is disamered sitting al a table, loifft a ta 
hard, pijwff, and tobacco hq/bre him ; his ba^ 
pipei lying by kim. 
Pan. Jupiter wenches and drinks, 

He lales the roast in the sky; 
Vet he 's a fool if he thinks 
That he 'h aa happy aa I ; 






Is his higl 



I have my la 
And my glasa, 
And stroll a baelielor's merry life. 
Let iiim fluster, 
And blualBr, 
Yet cringe to hia haridan's furbelow ; 
To my feir tulips, 
T Blue UpB, 
And clink the cannikin here below. 
Enter DiMJBTia. 
Dam. There aits the old soaker, his pate trou- 
bling little 
How the world wap, so lie g^drink and viitle, — 
Hoa, alaater Pan — 'Gad you've trod on a thistle ! 
You may pack op your ad, Sir, and go whistle. 
The virenches have turn'd tail— to yonbock ranter. 
Tickled by his guitar- they scorn your chanter. 



All round the maypole how they tp 

Pot, 
And good ale have got ; 

Routing, 

Shouting, 
At yon flouting. 

Fleering, 

Jeering, 
And what not 



10 frisks like a mad 



Cap'ring, 



Vap', 



ng> 



While Pot, scraping. 

The lasses 
As he did the dojJ. 
Round about, &c. 

Enter Mvsis. 
Jfi/fiis. Pan I the devil to pay, both my sluts 
frantic! 
Both in their tantrums, for yon cap'ring antic. 
But I'll go aeck 'em all— and if I find 'em, 
ri[ drive 'em— as if old Nick were behind 'em. 

[Going. 
Pan. Soa, soa,— don't flounce ; 

Ayaal— disguise your fury. 
Pol we shall trounce; 
Midas is judge and jury. 



Mysla. Sure I shall run with vexation disM 
To see my purposes thus coantetaeted I 
This way, or that way, or which way soevi 
All things run conlrarj to my endeavour. 



Fathers neglecting 

The care of their fame ; 
iirsing in bosom a trtachoroufl viper ; 
ere 's a fine dance— but 'tis he pays the ; 



SCENE VI.— A WoodandLawn neorSiLENo's 

A tender alow syimpkony s Daphne crosses, me- 
lanchohj and silent ; Nyes watching her. 
Nysa. O ho; is it so — Miss Daphne in the 

Mum— snug 's the wold— ['11 lead her such a dance 

Shall make her atu her stumps. 

To all her accret haunts 
Like a shadow I'll foUow and watch her ; 
And, feith, mamma shall hear on't if icalch her. 



Re-enlcT Daphhe, 
Daph. La; how my heart goes jat-a-pat ; what 
thumfiing, 
I'er rince my ftther brought us home this bump- 



He 's aa tight a lad to see lo. 
As e'er atept in leather snoB | 

And what 's better, hall love me 
And to him I'll prove t" - "- 



a hawk' 

idelywiiatahecando; 
He o'erlook'd the little doxy, 

I'm the girl he means to woo. 
Hither I atole out to meet him. 

He'll no doubt my steps pursue | 
If the youth prove true. I'll fit him; 

If he 's false— I'll fit him too. 



,ye. 



o; t^rOOglC 



P<d. Tlunk o' the devil— 'tis said, 

He 'b at your shoulder 

This wench was running in my head, 
And pop — behold her. 



Lovely nymph, assiii^ my anguieh : 

At your feet a teniter swain, 
Prays you will not let liim lancuiah, 

Cfne kind look would easfl his pain. 
Did you know tlie lad who courts you, 

I£e not long needs sue in vain : 
Prince of song, of dance, of sports — you 
Scarce will meet his like again. 
Daph. Sir; you're such an olio 
Of perfection in folio, 

No daoiael can resist yoo : 
Your &ce so attractive, 
Limba so supple and active, 
Thai, by this Sight, 
At the first sight, 
I could have run and kisa'd you. 



IB addiOon of that pretty face, 
Pan, who was held by oar shephenls a god olale. 

Will be kiek'd out, and you set in his place. 
His beard so frowsy, hia gestures so awkward are, 

And his bagpipe has so drowsy a drone, 
That if they find you, aa I did, no backwarder. 

You may count on all the girls as your own. 

Mysie. [From inithin.} Pol, Pol, make hasle, 

Pol. Death, what a time to calf; 
(Ih ! rot your o\A lungs of leather. 
B'ye, Daph. 
Daph. B'ye, Poll. 

[Exit Pol ; Ntsi cornes forward. 
Nysa. Marry come tip, forsooth, 
Is't me, you forward vixen. 
You clioose to play ^our Iricts on ; 

And could your hq^uorieh tooth 
Find none but my sweetheart to fix on ^ 
Daj^. JMarry come tip again, 

Indeed, my du-ty cousin I 
Have you a right to every swain "! 
.Vysa. Ay, though a dozen. 



Daph. My minikin Miss, do you fiiney that Pol 

Can e\et be caught by an infant's doll 1 

Nysa. Can you, Miss Maypole, Bupposahe will 

In love with the giantess of Guildiull 1 



Daph, Miss, your assurance, 
Nysa. And, Miss, your high 

Daph, Is past all endurance, 
Nysa. Are at their last uravc 

Daph. No more of (heae free 



ap^. 



ims, Mise Nysa, 
must be lower'd 



Daph. Poor spite '. 

Nysa. Pride hurt! 

Daph. Liver white ! 

Nysa. Rare sport 1 

Daph. Do show your teeth, spitfire, do, but you 

can't bite ; 
Nysa. This liaughtiness soon will be laid in 
the dirt. 
Poor spile, &c. 
Pride hart, &c. 

[Exeunl; njuabUing 

ACT II. 

SCENE L-A Groue, 

Enter Nysj, foUowed by Midas, 

Mid, Tum, tygress, turn ; nay fiy not- 

[ have thee at a why not. 

How comes it, little Nysy, 

That heart to me so icy 

Should be to Pol like tinder, 

Burn'd up lo a tery cinder 1 
Nysa. Sir, to my virtue ever steady : 



Firm as a rock 
But why this " " 



ii 



Pigmy d^ 
Nysa. Cdosaus lUelf, 

Both. You will lie till you're mouldy upon the 

Daph. You stump o'th' gutter, you hop o' my 
thumb, 
A husband for you must from Lilliput 

Nysa. Y'ni stalking steeple, you gawky stag, 
Your husband must come finm Brobdi- 

Daph, Sour grapes, 

Nysa, Lead apea ; 

lielh. I'll humble your vanity, Mistress Trapes, 



n you lack 

Who have a wife already t 

Mid, Ay, ay, there 's the curse— bat she is old 

Ind would my Nysa grant the lavour quickly. 
Would she yield now— f swear by the lord Harry, 
rhe moment madam 's coifin'd— her I'll marry. 



O what pleasures will abound 
When my wife is laid in ground ! 
Let earth cover her, 
Weni dance over her, 
When my wife is laid in ground. 
Oh how happy should i tie, 
Would liule Wysa pg with me 1 
How I'd mumble her, 
Ton™ and tumble her. 
Would little Nysa pig with me ! 
Nysa. Young birds alone are caught with chaff. 
At your base scheme 1 laugh. 

Mid. Yet lake my vows, 

Nysa, I would not take your bond. Sir, 

3Ed. Half my estate 

Nysa, No, nor the whole— my fond Sir, {Exit, 
md. Well, master Pol ril tickle, 

For him, at least, I have a rud in pickle : 

When bo's in limbo. 
Not thus onr hoity-toity miss 
Will stick her arms a-kimbo. 
EnJer PiN. 
Pan. So, 'squire, well met— I flew to know 

your busineas. 
Mid. Why Pan, this Pol we must bring him 



./Google 



Pm. That were a feat hideedi- 
JUid, Let's liome — we'll there coni 



Mid. Well, come, let's lake one boice, and 

i Then part to our si&irs. 

" in, A match. 

ysis. A matoli. 



SCENE II— A Lavm btfore 



as atepp'd before me ! 
Envy and love devour me, 
Pol dotee apon her phiz hard I 
'Tis that sticks in my gizzard, 
Midas appears nov ' 
Ah, Nysa, whatre 

Death ahve ^yet (hither 

And turn a nun, 
Prodigious ! 

In these greasy old tatters 

Hie charms brighter shine : 
Then his guitar he clatters 
With tinkling divine: 
But my sister, 
Ah ! he kiss'd her, 

And me he pass'd by ; 
I'm jealous 
Of the fellow's 

Bad taste and blind eye. [. 
SCENE III— Midas' Parhvr. 



Mid. Come, Pan, your toast 

Poji. Here goes our noble umpire. 
3^sts. And Pol's defeat— I'll pledge il 

bumper. 
mid. Hang him, in every scheme that w 

Mysis. Sura be 's the devil himself; 

Pan. Or Doctor FaustiiB. 

Mysis, Ah ! 'squire for Pan would you but 

stoutly stickle, 
This Pol would soon be in a wretched pickle. 

Pa,.. You reason right 

Mid. His toby I shall tickle. 

Mi/aa. Look 'squire, I've sold ray butter, here 
the price is 
At your command, do but this job for Mysis. 
Count 'em — six guineas and an old Jacobus, 
Keep Pan, and shame that scape-grace coram 

il^. Goody, as 'tis your request, 
I pocket this here stuff; 
And as for that there peasant, 
Trust me I'll work his hufi! 
At the musical struggle 
I'll bully and juggle ; 

Ymr^oard; 
'Biood, he shall fly his country— that's enough. 
Pan. Well said, my lad of wai. 
Mid. Let's end the tankard, 
1 have no head for business tilt Pve drank hard. 
I, Nor have my guts brains in them till 



Mid. Master Pol 

And his toll de roll loll, 

I'll buffiit avray (rora the plain, Sii 
Pan. And I'll assist 

Your worship's fist 

With alt my might and main. Sit 
Mys. And I'll have a thump. 
Though he is so plump. 
And makes sucha wounded racket. 
Mid. I'llblufl; 
Pan. I'll rough, 
Mys. I'll huff 
Mid. I'll cuff 

All. And I'il warrant WB pepper his jacke 
Mid, For all his cheats, 
And wenching feats. 
He shall rue on his knees 'em. 
Or skip, by goles. 
As h^h as Paul's, 

Like ugly witch on besom , 
Arraigned lie slisll be, 

Pan. And I with my davy will back it. 



Mys. I'll tear. 
All. Orare! 

And 111 warrant we pepper i 

SCENE IV.~A Landspi 



Sa. My Daph, a vrife for thee ; the 'squire's 
base pander ! 
To the plantations sooner would I send her. 

Dam. Sir, your good wife approv'd my oHers. 

Sil. Name her not, hag of Lndor, 
What knew she of thee but thy coffers 'i 

Dam. And shall this ditch-horn whelp, this 
Jack-an-apea, 
By dint of congees and of scrapes — 

Sil. These are thy slanders and that cankiVd 

Oom. A thing made up of pilfer'd rags; 
Sil. Richer than thou with all Ihy brags 
Of fiocks, and herds, and money bags. 



they're addle, 



saddle. 



Sil, If a rival thy character draw, 

In perfeclbn he'll find out a flaw ; 
With black he will pwnt, 
Makeade'ilofasauit, 
And change to an owl a maicaw. 
9am. Can a fether pretend to be wise, 
Who his friend's good advice woitld despiBE 1 
Who. when danger is nigh. 
Throws his apccSiclcs by, 
And blinks through a green girl's vye^ '! 
SH. You're an impudent pirapandagrub. 
Dam. You are futJ'd by a beggariy scrub ; ■ 

Your betters you snub, 
Sil. Who will lend me a club. 



io=isdo/ Google 



This insolent puppy to drub 1 
You're an impudent pimp and a grub, 
Dam, You're cajoi'd by a begmrlj Bcrnb, 
Sil. Who will rot in a powdering tub, 
Dam. Whom the prince of impostars I dub; 
Sil. A guinea for a club, 
Dam. You're bald pate you'll rub, 
SU. This muckworm to drub. 
Dam. When you £nd that ^our cub, 
Sil. Rub off, dnah, rub, smah, rub. 
Dam. la debttuch'd by a whipp'd syllabub. 

[Exeunt. 

ETiier Mysis, attended by DArHNE and Nysj. 

Musis. Soh! you attend the trial— we shitll 
drive hence 
Your vagabond — 

iSi7. f smoke your ibul contrivance. 

Daph. Ah, Nys, our fate depends upon this 



Nysa. Daph — for your sake my claim 









And with your Pol much joy I wish you. 

Daph. O, gemini, say'st thou me so 1 
Dear creature, let me kiss you. 

Nysa. Let's kneel, and beg his stay, papa will 

Daph. Mamma win storm. 

Nysa. What then 1 she can but whack us. 



Daph. Mother, sure you n 
Will endeavour 
To dissever 
Prom my fiivour 



Sunk for ever 

Haste and save her 
From black despair. 
Daph. Think ofhis modest grace, 

Hia voice, shape, and &ce; 
^8o. Hearts alarming, 
Daph. Bosoms warming;, 
Nysa. Wrath disarming, 
Daph, With his sot! lay ; 
Nysa. He's so charming. 
Ay, let him stay, 
Bath. He 's BO charming. &c. 
Myais. Sluts, are you tost to shame 1 
SU. Wife, viife, be more tame. 
]HysM. This is madness! 
m. Sober sadness 1 
Mysis. I with gladness 

ConB see him awing. 

For his badness, 
Sii. 'Tis no such thing. 

Dam. Must Pan resign to this fop his employ- 
Must I to him yield of Daph the enjoy- 
H^sis. Ne'er while a tongue I brandish, 

Fop outlandish 

Daph shall blandish. 
Dam. Will you reject my income, 

Herds and clinkum 1 
Sil. liot and sink 'em. 



Dam. Midas must judge. 

Mysis. And Pol must 1^. 

SU. Zounds, Pol shan't badge ■ 

Mysis. You lie. 

Dam, Yon lie, 

Mysia. 1 

Dam. > You lie, you lie. 

sa. ) 

Enter Midas, enraged, attended by a crowd (^ 

Nyatphs and Swains. 

Mid. Peare, ho! is hell broke loose} what 



What the devil 's here to do, 

Ye loggerheads and gipsies 1 
Sirrah you, and hussy you, 

And each of yoo tipsy is : 
But I'll as anre pidl down your pride aa 

Agun,oras I'm justice Midas! 
Chorus. O, tremendous justice Midas! 

Whoshall oppose wise justice Midas* 



Mid. I'm 
Disputing wl 






think 



o understand that you ar 

er here ; 

Pan or Pol shaU jnpe to 

clumsy ears ao proper Ui 



The delicate ears of justice Midas % 

Chorus. O, tremendous, &e. 

Mid. So youallow it thenr— ye mobbish rabblel— 
Enter PoL and Pan, eeferoily. 
Oh, here comes Pol and Pan— now stint your ga 



ble. 



fble 



Fdch my great chair — I'll quickly end this sq 



Now I'm seated. 

Like the sophi on his throne ; 
In my prcaence, 
Scoundrel peasants 

Shall not call their souls their own. 
My behest is, 
He who best is. 

Shall be fix'd musician chief; 
Ne'er the loser 
ShaU show nose here. 

But be transported lite a thief. 
Chorus. O tremendous, &c. 
Dam. Masters, will you abidebythiscoudition 
Poll. I ask no better. 
jPdZ. I'm all submission. 
Pan. Strike up, sweet Sir. 
Pol. Sir, I attend your leisure. 
Mid. Pan, take the lead. 
Pan. Since 'tis your worship's pleasure. 



A pos on your pother about this or that ; 
Your shrieking or sqneaking, a sharp or a flat ; 
I'm sharp by my bumpers.yon're flat, master Pol; 
So here goes a aet-to at UA\ de roll lolt. 
When beauty berrack of poor loverswou Id hamper, 
And after Miss Will- o'the- Wisp the foola scam- 



r,l^,0(1gLC 



•CBSB IV. J MI 

Ding dong, in aing song, Ihey the lady eitol ; 

Praywhat'sallthiBfiiaafor, but toll de rollloll. 

Mankind are a medley a chance-medley race | 

AS etert in full cry, to give dame Fortune chase : 
There 'a catch aa catch can, hit or miss, luefc ia all i 
And lact 's the best tune of life's toll de roll loll. 
I've done, pleaae your wocahip, 'tis rather too Ions : 
[Mid. NotatalLJ ^' 

The world 'abut a tragedy, eome^. droll; 
Where all act tha scene of toll de roll loll. 

Mid. By jingo, Wfell perfbroi'd for one of his age ; 
Now.hanff dog,Jon't you blush to show your visage? 
Pal. Why, maflter Midas, for that matter, 
'Tia enough to dash one, 
To hear the arbitrator. 

In such anaeemly fashion, 

One of the candidates beapatter. 

With so much partial passion. 

[MiDAs/oiZs asleep. 

Ah, happy hours, how fiof ting. 

Ye danc'd on down away; 
When, my soft vows repeating, 

AtDapW'sfeetTlay' 
But from hor charms when aunder'd. 

As Midas' frowna presage, 
Each hour vrill seem a hundred ; 

Each day appear an age. 
Mid. Silence— this jaBtdecree,allatyour peril, 
Obedient hear — else I shad use you very ill. 



Pan shall remain. 
Pot quit the plain. 
Oiaras, O, tremendous, &c 
Mid. All bow with me to mighty Pan — en- 
throne him — 
No pouting— and with festal chorus crown him — 
[31^ erowrf/orm two Tanks beside the chair, 
and joinin the Chorus, \ckilit MiDis.croMiw 
kim Tciih bays. 
fSiaras. See triumphant site the liard, 

Crown'd with bays, his due reward j 
Eiil'd Pol shall wander tar ; 
■Eitii'd, twang his -fiiint guitar; 
While with eohmng shouts of praiae, 
We the bagpipe'-e^ory raise. 



Mid. 'Tis well. What keeps you here, joh 

ragamuffin 1 

Go trudge or do you wait for a ffood cuffino ? 

Pol. Sow all attend 

[ Throws off his disguise, and appears aa 
Apollo. 
The wrath of Jove for rapine, 
Corruption, lust, pride, fraud, there 's no eacaping. 
Tremble, thou virrelch ; thou stjelch'd the utmost 

Thou and thy tools shall go to pot together. 



Dunce I did but sham. 
For Apollo 1 am. 
God of mufJc, and king of Pan 
Thy scurvy decree. 
For Pan against me, 
I reward with the ears of an asi 
Mid. Delected, balk'd, and small, 
>n our marrow-bones we foil. 
Mysis. Be merciful 
D^m. Be pitiful. 
HSd. Forgive us, mighty Sol. A 



Apol. Thou, a Billingsgate quean, 

[ToMysis. 
Thou, a pandar obscene, [To D/lMetas. 
With strumpets and bailiffs shall class ; 

Thou driven from man, ITo Midas. 

_Shalt wander with Pan ; 
I stinking old goat, 
; thou squire— his ( 
To thee I translate. 
To you his strong chests, wiclfed mai 

STo Daphne a; 

Recall^ to the sky, 

Daph. Sil. Nysa,\ T 
together leith the I Letusaanoe,smg,andpl 
otJierNympfisand fClap hands every lad w 
Stcains. J his lass. 

Daph. Now, critics, lie snug. 

Not a hiss, groan, or shrug j 
Remember the fete of Midas, Midas 
Remember the late of Midas. 
Chonlt. Now, critica, lie snug, .&c. 



, Google 



DOUGIiAS. 



A TRAGEDY, 



BY JOHN HOME. 













REMARKS. 




eamifiil tragedy, 


auegestedby 


HeoldSodUba 


aaofOi/( 


r ahiMe)JI«tHct. w 


1756, and i 




ngyea 








Mr. Home, who 




roft 








kitli,for 










auyd 








di^graMlUllj expelled the kirk 


nts, Kehiiig 


ptol. 






elibe 


alilyofE 


agland, wh 


ielhepieMwa>r< 












is late Mai 


e«ty, then Prince o 


lUerepreH 






ErUnbucgh. a 


young North Brilon 


toodupinihcpita 


ph,"W«el, 


ada 




dinky 




riySlak 


peare now 




olhergres 


Wb 


moQi 




niori 


oflbiBpl 


y, Mr. Day 


d Hume, the histoi- 


peofMBflii 


and 


toUia 


ofVo 


airo, which il r 


Bemblosin 


iIaBnl(jeot;andMr 



DRAMATIS PERSON,*:. 







b COIENIQARDEN 18U 


URUBV LANK 18 




Wr Digget 


Jlfr ConmlJ 


Vr Roe 




Mr loune 


Mr Fgerlmt 


Mr HoOaid 




Mr Love 


Mr Barrsmore 


MrSayvumd 




Mt Havmn 


Mr Y«^„g 


Mr nrimgktm 


Donald 




Mr Clarmxmt 


Mr Cooke 


O^FICBB, 






Mr Filler 






Mr Am»i 


Mr Mad^odf. 


PniSONlA 




Mr DuTutel 


Mr BuxtoTu 


LuiV Kandolfh 


Mr< nard 


Mrs PomH 


Miss SmiOt 


Ann*, 


Mrs Hopkmt. 


Mis-, Cooke 


MissBoyoe 



<ICENJi: I.~ The Ctmrt of a Castle, surrounded 

Enter Lady Bakdolph, 
Lady R. Ye woods and wilds, whose melan- 
choly gloom 
^jttorda with my soul's sadness, aai draws forth 
I'he vfflce of sorrow ftom ray bursting heart, 
ITiiiewell awhile ! I will not leave you long ; 
For in your shades I deem sotne spirit dwetis, 



Who, from the chiding stream, or groaning oa)^ 
Still hears and answers lo Matilda's moan. 
Oh, Douglas! Douglasi if departed diosts 
Are e'er pormltted to review this world, 
Within the circle of that wood thou art, 
And wilhthe passion of immortals hear'st 
My lamentation : hear'st thy vtrelched wife 
Weep for her husband slain, her inlant lost. 
My brother's timeless death I seem.to mourn, 
WTio perish'd with thee on that fatal day. 
But Randolphcomea, whom fetehas made my lord 
To chide my anfaiish, and delraud the dead, 
15S 



io;*^.OOglC 



Enter Lord Kahdolph. 
I'«rd R. Again these wends of wo! say dost 
Ihou well 
To feed a pBSMon which consumes thy life J 
Thn iiring claim some duty ; vainly thou 
Bestow'Bt thy cares upon the siienl dead. 

LadyR. gilent,alBBl is he foe whom I mou] 
Childless, witJiout meinoriBlof his nnme, 
He only now in ray remeiubranco Uves. 
Lord R, Time, (hat wears out tho trace of 
deepest anguish. 
Has pass'tl o'er thee in vaiu. 
Sure thou art not the daughter of Sir Malcolm : 
Strong was his rage, eternal his resentment ; 
For when thy brother fell, he smil'd to hear 
That Douglas' son in the same field was slab. 
Lady R. Oh I rake not up the ashea of ray fe- 

Implacable resentment was their crime, 
And grievous has the ei{Hation been. 
Lard R. Thy grief wrests to its purposes my 






. _ ask'd of thee that ardent love 
Which in^the breasts of fancy's children burns. 



Forgive me, lady: humble though I am, 
The mind I bear partakes not of mj fortuno: 
So fervently I love you, that to dry 
These piteous tears, I'd throw my Ufe away. 

iot^yiE. What power directed thyai 

tongue 
To speak as Ihou hast donel to nam 
__ Anna. I know not ; 
" ' irds have made my m 



hie, 



; but silent in 



will speak so no n 
ly tears with hers. 
Lady R, No, thou ahalt not be silent : 
II ._._. (jjy ^thful love, and thon shalt be 

inattueled partnerof my woes. 



Henceforth 
But nhat avails it . 
Roll back the flood .. 
Compel the earth and 



Can thy le 



er-ebbing Ui 






Decent aiEiction and a 



Were all I wi^'d for ; hut I wish'd it 

Hence with the less recret mv eves 

The storm of war th«1 o^lh^i J^ t 



But whithereoest thou nt.. , 

Lard R. Straight to the camp. 
Where every warrior on the tiptoe stands 
Of eipeclation, and impatient asks 
Each who arrives, if he is come to tall 
The Danes are landed. 

Lady R. O, may adverse vrinds 
Par frem the coast of Scotland drive their fleet [ 
And euery soldier of both hosts return 
In peace and safety 1o his peaceful home! 

Lard R. Thou speak'st a woman's, hear 
vrarrior'a wish ; 
Right from their native land, the stormy north 
May the wind blow, till every keel is fixed 
Immoveable in Caledonia's strand ! 
Than shall our foes repent their bold invasdon, 
And roving anrnes shun the fatal shore. 
Lad;?, fiirewell : I leave thee not alone ; 
"" hose love makes duty light. 



Their dead, alive 
Anna. What means my noble mistress 1 
Lady R. Didst thou not ask, what had my sor- 

[ in early youth had lost a husband 1 
In the cold bosom of the earth is lodg'd, 
Mangled with wounds, the husband of my youth ; 



Andir 






Yonder ct 






Forgive the rashness of your Anna's 

0rg'd by affection, I have thus presum'd 
To interropt your solitary thoughts ; 
And warn you of tha hours that you neglect, 
And lose in sadness. 

Lady R, So to lose my hours 
is all the use I wish to make of time. 

Anna. To blame thee, lady, suits not with my 



Buts 



elai 



Never did si, 

What had your sorrows bean if you had lost, 

fn early youth, the husband of your heart 1 

LadyR. Oh! 

Anwi. Have 1 distressed you with officious lo' 
And ill-tim'd mentbn of your brother's fate ! 



My child and his 

Anna. Oh ! lady most rever'd ! 
The tale wrapt up in your amaang words 
Deign to unfold. 

Lady R. Alas ! an ancient fond, 
Hereditary evil, was the source 
Of my misfortunes. Ruling &ts decreed 
That my biave brother should in battie save 
The life of Douglas' son, our house's foe; 
The youthful warriors vow'd eternal ftiendship. 
To see the vaunted sister of his &iend, 
Impatient, Douglas to Balarmo came, 
UniJer a borrovi?d name. My heart he gmn'd . 
Nor did I long refuse the hand he begg'd: 
My brother's presence authoriz'd onr marriage. 
Three weeks, three little weeks, with wings of 

Had o'er us flown, when my lov'd lord was call'd 
To fight his father's battles : and with him. 
In spite of ali my tears, did Malcolm go. 
Scarce were they gone, when my stern sure was 

Thai the felse stranger was loid Douglas' son. 
FranOc with rage, the baron drew his sword, 
And qufstion'd me. Alone, forsaken, faint. 
Kneeling beneath his sword, &ll'rine, 1 took 
An oath equivocal, that I ne'er would 
Wed one of Douglas' name. Sinceiity ! 
Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave 
Thy onvrard path, (although the earth should gape, 
And from the gulf of hell destru<^on cty,} 
To take dissimulation's winding way I 

10,. Alas! how few of women's fearful kind 
Durst own a truth so hardy ! 
Ladiy R. 'I'he first truth 
ffisieat to avow. This moral learn, 

This precious moral, from my magic tale. 

In a few days !.)>& dreadful tidings came 
That Douglas and my brother both were slain. 
My lord ! my life 1 my husband I— mighty God ! 
What had I done to merit such afflictton I 

Anna. My dearest lady, many a tale of tears 
I've listened to ; but never did I hear 



ic.i,= r,i^,oogle 



DOUGLAa 



As wumen wish to be who love their lords. 
But who durst leil my fathecl the good priest 
Who join'd our hands, my brother's ancient tutor, 
With hia loT'd Malcoinijin the batUe ftlh 
They two akme ware pnvy to the loarriage. 
On silence and ooiicealment I resoWd, 
Till time should make my father's fortune mine. 
That very night on which my son was born, 
My nurse, the only confidante I had, 
Set out with him lo reach her aster's house : 
But nurse nor Infcnt have I ever seen, 
Or heard of Anna, since that &tal hour, 
Anna. . Nrt eeen nor heard of ! then perhaps he 

LadyR, No, It WasdarkDecember ; windand 

Had beat all night. Across the Carton lay 
The destin'd road, and in its swelling flood 
My faithful servant perish'd with rav child. 
Oh ! had I died when my lov'd husband fell ! 
Had some good aiW op'd to me the book 
Of Providence, and let me read my life, 
My heart had broke, when I beheld the sum 
Of ills, which one by one I have endui'd. 
liiiBo. That God, whose ministers good angels 

Hath shut the book, in mercy to mankind. 
But we must leave this theme : Glenalvon comes ; 
1 saw him band on you his thoi^htful eyas. 
And hitherwards he slowly stalks hia way. 
Lady R. I will avoid him. An nngracious per- 



iody .B. Because he's not the hdr of 

Subtle and shrewd, he offers to mankind 
An aitificHal image of himself ; 
Yet is ha brave and politic ir - — 



Anna. Oh happiness ! where art thou lo bi 
found'! 
I see thou dwellest not with birth and beauty. 
Though grac'd with grandeur, and in wealth ar 

Nor dost thou, it would seem, with virtue dwell ; 
Else had this gentle lady miss'd thee not. 
Enter Glenalvon. 
Glen. What dost thou muse on, meditating 

1 jke some entranc'd and visionary seer, 
On earth thoU stand'et, thy thoughts ascend to 
heaven. 
Anna. Woukl that I were, e'en as thou say' 



Glen. What dost thou doubt of 1 What hast 
thou to do 
With HUbjeets intricate 1 Thy yonth, thy beauty, 
Cannot be question'd; think of these good gil^s; 
And then thy contemplations mil be pleasing. 

Anna. Let woman view yon monument of wo, 
Then boast of beauty ; who so Eiic as she 1 
Bnt 1 must follow; tMs revolring day 
Awakes the memory of her ancient woes, [Eirit. 

'lien. So ! — Lady Eandoleh shuns me ■ by 



It! uctu & o, uuiii^ iivy. n"a^ uj«">« ".- .«.« 
these rich valleys, and a chief of power. 

le season is moat apt ; my sounding steps 
Will not be heard amidst the din of arms. 
Raniloiph has liv'd too long ; his belter fiita 
Had the asceiidirit once, and kept me down. 
When I had seiied the dame, by chance he came, 
".escu'd, aiid had the iady for his labour: 
scap'd unknovm ; a slender consolation ! 
Heaven is my witness, that I do not love 
To sow in peril, and let others reap 
The jocund harvest. Yet I am not safe ; 

J" love, or aomething like It, stung, inflam'd, 
idly 1 blabb'd my passion to his wile, 
Andshehas threaten'dto acquaint hun of it. 
Tha way of woman's will I do not know : 
But well 1 know the baron's wrath is deadly. 
" will not livB in fear ; the man I dread 
.J as a Dane to mei ay, and the man 
Who atanda betwixt me and my chief desire — 
No bar bat he ; she has no kinsman near; 
No brother, in hia sister's quarrel hold ; 
And for the righteous cause, a stranger's cause, 
IknewnochiefthatwilldefyGlenarvoB. [Exit. 

ACT II. 

SCENE I.— A Caart, (fv:, 

BntBT Servants and a Stranger at one door, 

and Ladv Randolph and AnK* at another. 

LadyR. What means this clamour 1 Stranger, 

Haat thou been wrong'd 1 have these rode men 

presum'd 
To vex the weary traveller on hia may 1 
" Serv. ByuanoetranBer ever suffer'd wrong; 
s man with outory wiH has cali'd us forth ; 
lore afraid he cannot speak his fears. 



LadyR. Rot Vain the stranger's fears! how 
feres my lord 1 

Lard R. That it fares well, thanks to this gal- 
lant youth. 
Whose valour aav'd me from a wretched death. 
As down the winding' dale I waik'd alone. 
At the cross way four armed men attajk'd mo ; 
Rovers, I judge, from the licentious camp. 
Who would iMve quickly laid Lord Randolph low 
Had not thia brave and generous stranger come, 
Like my good angel, in the hour of fete. 
And, mooting danger, made my ibes his own. 
They tum'd nponliim, but his aclj'e arm 
Struck to the ground, from whence Ihey rose no 

The fiercest' two ; the others fled amain. 
And left him master of the bloody field. 
Speak, Lady Randolph, upon beaaty's toncue 
Dwell accents pleaang (o the brave and bold ; 
Speak, noble dame, and thank him for thy lord. 
Lady R. My lord, T cannot speak what now I 



My liearto'erflows with gratitude to heaven, 
And to this noble youth, who, all unknown 
To yon and yours, deliberated not, 
Nor paus'd at peril, bat, humanely brave. 
Fought on your side against such fearful odds. 
Have you not learn'd of him whom we shouM 



ic.t,d=, Google 



But 1 mUEt know vrho my delivi 

[ l-o NORVAI,, 

Nor. A low-bom man, of mrentege obBcura, 
Who nought can boasl, but nis desire to be 

t,ord R. WhoeYr thou art, thy spirit ib enno- 

Ey the great King of kings; thou ait ordain'd 
And sCmap'il a hero, by the Eovereign hand 
Of nature 1 Biusli not, flower of modesty 
Ae well as valour, to declare thy birth. 

Not. My name is Nerval : on the Granijiian hilla 
^1? fether feeds his flocks ; a frugal swain, 
Whose constant carea were to increase his store, 
And keep his only eon, myself, at home. 
For I had heard of battles, and I loiig'd 
To follow to the field some warlike lord : 
And heaven soon granted what my sire denied. 
This moon which rose last night, round as my 

Had not yet filled her horns, when, by her light, 
A hand of fierce barbarians from the hillB, 
Ras'i'd like a torrent down upon the vale, 
Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shephenls 

For safely and for succour. I alone, 

With bended bow, and quiver fall of arrows, 

HoYcr'd about the enemy, and mark'd 

The road he took ; then hasted to my friends, 

Whom, with a. tfoop of fifty chosen men, 

I met advancing. The pursuit 1 led. 

Till we o'ertook the spoil-eDcumber'il Ibe. 

Wb fought and conquer'd. Ere a sword was 

An arrow from my bow had pierc'd their chief. 

Who wore that day the arms which now I wear. 

Returning home in triumph, I disdain'i! 

The shephord'E slothful life ; and having heard 

That our good king had summonM his bold jieers 

To lead their warriots to the Carrou side, 

I left my father's house, and look with me 

A chosen servant to conduct my steps; 

Yon trembling coward, who forsook his master. 

Journeying with this intent, 1 pasa'd these towers. 

And, heaven directed, came this day to do 

The happy deed that gilds my humble name. 

LordR. Ha is as wise as brave. Was ever laje 
With such a gallant modesty rehoars'd? 
My brave dehverer! thou shall enter now 
A nobler list, and in a monarch's sight 
Contend with princes for (he prize of feme. 
I will present tnee to our Scottish king. 
Whose valiant spirit ever valour lov'd. 
Ah I my Matilda, wherefore starts that tear 1 

Lady R. 1 cannot say ; for various aflections. 
And strangely mingled, in my bosom swell ; 
Yet each of them may wall command a tear. . 
I joy that thou art safe ; and I admire 
Him and his fortunes who hath wrought thy 

Yea. as my mind predicts, with thine his own. 
Obscure and friendless he the army sought. 
Bent upon peril, in the range of death 
Rceolv'd to hunt for fame, and with his sword 
To gain distinction which his birth denied. 
In this attempt, unknown he might have perish'd, 
And gain'd, with nil his valour, but oblivion. 
Now, grae'd by thee, his 
BeneaUi despdr. Tlic si 



>fhoD 



He stands conspicuous; fame and great renown 
Are brought within the compass ofnis sword. 
On this my mind reflected, whilst you spoke, 
And blessy the wonder-working Lord of heaven. 

Lord R. Pious and grateful ever are thy 
thoughts ! 
My deeds shall follow where thou point'st the way. 
Next to myself, and equal to Glenalvon, 
In honour and command, shall Norvai be. 

Not. Iknownothowlothankyou. Rodelan- 
Tn speech and manners : never tijl this hour 
Stood I in such a presence ; yet, my lord, 
There 'e something in my breast, which makes mt 

To say, that Norvai ne'er will shame thy &viiur. 

Lady R. 1 will be sworn thou wilt not. Thou 
shalt be 
My knight, and ever, as thou didst to-day. 
With happy valour guard the life of Randolph 

LordR. Well hast thou spoke. Let me forbid 
reply; 
We are thy debtors sti!l. Thy high desert 

{ To NoRVit 
O'ertops our gratitude. I must proceed. 
As was at first intended, to the camp. 
Some of my train I see are speeding hither, 
Impatient doubtless of their lord's delay. 
Go with me, Nerval, and thine eyes shall seft 
Tho chosen warriors of thy native land, 
Who languish for the fight, and beat the air 
With brandish'd swords. 

Nor. Let us be gone, my lord. 

Lord R. [To Laoy R.J About the time tha 
the declining sun 
Shallhis broad orbit o'er yon hill suspend. 
Expect ua to return. This night once more 
Within these walls I rest joiy tent I pilch 
To-morrow in the field. Prepare the feast. 
Free is his heart wiio for his country fights : 
He in tha eve of battle may resign 
Himself to social pleasure : sweetest then. 
When danger to a soldier's soul endears 



Lady R. His parting words have struck a fatal 
truth. 
Oh, Douglas 1 Douglas 1 tender was the time 
When we two parted ne'er to meet again ! 
How many years of anguish and despair 
Has heaven annex'd to those swift passing hours 
Of love and ibndness. 
Wretch that I am I Alas I why am I so 1 
At every happy parent I repine. 
How bless'd the mother of yon happy Norvai ! 
She for a living husband bore her pains, 
And heard him bless her when a man was bom : 

urs'd her smiling infant on her breast ; 
Tended tha child, and rear'd thapleasmg boy; 
She, with aftection's triumph, saw the youth 
In grace and comeliness snrpass his peers : 
Whilst I to a dead husband bore a son. 
And to the roaring waters gave my child. 

Anna. Alasl alas! why will you thus resume 
Your grief afresh 1 I thought that gallant youth 
Would for a while have won you from your wo. 
On him intent you gazed, with a look 
Much more delighted, than your pensive eye 
Has deign'd on other objects to bestow. 

LadyR. Delighted, say'st thou' Oh! evan 

Found fuel for my hfe-consunring sorrow ; 
I thought, that had the son of Douglas liv'J. 



ic.i.= o;*^.OOgIc 



DOUGLAS. 



He luight have been like this young gallant stran- 

Aiui pair'd with Mm in features anil in shapSj 

In all endowments, as in years, I deem, 

Mj boy with blooming Norval nught have num- 

Whiiat thus I moB'd, a spark from fenoy fell 
On m^ sad heart, and kindled up a fondness 
For thi9 young stranger, nand'ringlrom his home, 
And like an orphan cast upon my care. 
1 will protect thee, add I to myself, 
With all my power, and ^ce with all my favour, 
Anna. Sure, heaven will bless so gen'rousare- 

You must, my noble dame, eiert your power: 
You must awake : devices wilt be fram d, 
And arrows pointed at the breast of Norval. 
Lady S. Glenalvon'9 false and crafty head will 

Aednst a. rival in his kinsman's love, 
Ifl deter him not; I only can. 
Bold as he is, Glenalvon will beware 
How he puJIs down the fabric that I raise. 
Ill be the artbl of young Norval's fortune. 
Enter Glenilvon. 
Glen, Where is my dearest kinsman, noble 

. Randolph? 
Lady H. Have you not heard, Glenalvon, of 

the base 

Olea. I have ; and that the villains may not 

With a strong band I have begirt the wood. 
If they lurk there, alive they shall be taken, 
And torture force from them the important secret. 
Whether some foe of Randolph's hired their 

Or if 

Lady R. That care becomes a kinsman's love, 
i have a counsel for Glenalvon's ear. 

[Exit Anuj. 

Glen, To him your counsels always are com- 

Lady R. 1 have not found so ; thou art known 

to me, 
Gfen, Known 1 
LadiyR. And most certain is my cause of ktiow- 

Glen. What do you know! By the most 
blessed cross, 
You much amaze me. No created being, 
Yourself eicept, durst thus accost Gler.alvon. 

Lady R. Is guilt ao bold "i and dost Ihou make 



An outcast beggar, and unfiitied too I 
For mortals shudder at a crime like tlune. 
Glen. Thy virtue awes me. First of womi 

kind! 
f ermit me yet to say, that the fond man 
Whom love transports beyond strict virtu 

bounds. 
If he is btouffht by love to misery, 
In fortune rum'd be in mind forlorn, 
Uniiitied cannot be, Piyr 's the alms 
Which on snch beggars freely is bestow'd ; 
For mortals know that love is still their lord, 
And o'er their vain resolvss advances still ; 



As fire, when kindled by our shepherds, moves 
Through the dry heath before the fanning wind. 
Lady R, Keaervc these accents for some othet 

To love's apology 1 listen not. 
Mark thou my words: foritismeetthoushooliiBl, 
His brave dehverer, Randolph here retains. 
Perhaps his presence may not please thee well : , 
But, at thy jjeril, practise ought against him : 
Let not thy jealousy attempt to shake 
And loosen the good root he has in Randolpii, 
Whose fevouiites I know thou hast supplanted. 
Thou lookest at me, as if thou wouldst pry 
Into my heart, 'Tia open as my speech. 
Igjve this early caution, and put on 
"The curb, before thy temper breaks away. 
The friendleaa stfancer my protection claims; 
His friend I am, anifbe not thou his foe. [Ex«. 
Glen. Child that I was to start at my own sha^ 

And be the shallow fool of coward conscience ! 
I am not what I have been ; what 1 should be. 
The darts of destiny have almost pierc'd 
My marble heart. Had I one erain of faith 
In holy legends and religious tabs, 
I should conclude there was an arm above 
That fought against me, and malignant turn'd, 
To catch mys^f, the subtle snare 1 set. 
Why, rape and mnrder are not «iiiple means 1 
The imperfect rape to Randolph gave a spouse ; 
And the intended murder intntduc'd 
A favourite to hide the sun from me ; 
And, worst of aU, a rival. Binning hell! 
This were thy centre, if I thought she lov'd him I 
'Tis certain she contemns me ; nay, commands me, 
And waves the flag of her displeasure o'er me, 
inbisbehaie And shall I thusbe brav'd 1 
Curb'd, as she calls it, by dame Chastity'! 
Infernal fiends, if any fiends there are 
More fierce than, hate, ambition, and revenge. 
Rise up, and fill my bosom with your fires. 
Darkly a project peers upon my mind, 
Like the red moon when rising in the east, 
Oroaa'd and divided by strange colour'd clouds. 
I'll seek the slave who came with Norval hither, 
And for his cowardice was spum'd from him. 
I've known a follower's rankled bosom breed 
Venom most fatal to his heedless lord. \EsU. 



Enter Anna. 
Anna. Thy vassals. Grief, great nature's orde» 

And clKinge the noontide to the midnight hour. 
Whilst Lady Randolph sleeps, I will walk forth, 
And taste the air that breathes on yonder hank. 
Sweet may her alnmbara be ! Ye ministers 
Of gracious heaven, who love the human race. 
Angels and seraphs, who delight in coodness. 
Forsake your skies, and to her couch descend ! 
There from her fency chase those dismal forma 
That haunt her waking; her sad spirit charm 
With images celestial, such aa please 
The blessM above upon thdr golden beds. 
Enter SehtaNT. 
Sbtv. One of the vile assassins la secur'd. 
We found the villain lurking in the, wood: 
With dreadful imprecationsTie denies 
All knowledge of the crime. But this is not 



.i.= o;*^.OOglC 



Hi9 first essay ; these jewela were eonceal'd 
In the moBt secret placea of his garment j 
BelikB the spoils of some that he has murdet'd. 
Anna. Let me look on thein. Ha 1 here is i 

The choaen crest of Douglas' valiant name ! 
These arc no vulgar jewels. Guard the wretch. 
[ExiS. 
Entea- Seryjntb, viith a PrteOner. 
Pris. I know no more (han does the child Dn- 

Of what you charge me with. 

1 Sere. You saT so, Sir! 
But torture soon shall make joo speak the truth. 
Behold, the lady of Lord Randolph oomee ; 
Prepare yourself to meet her just revenge. 
Enter Lady Randolph and Anna. 
Anna. Summon your utmost fortitude, before 
Yoa speak with him. Vour dignity, your fame, 
Ace now at stake. Think of the tstal secret, 
Which m a Tnomenl from your lips may fly. 
Lady R. Thou shall hehoklnie, with a deape- 

Heat how my infant perish'd. See, he kneels, 
Pria. Heaven bless that coantenance so sweet 
and mild! 
A judge like thee makes innocence more bold. 
Oh, save me, lady, from those cruel men. 
Who have attack'd and seiz'd me ; who accuse 
Me of intended murder. Aa I hope 
For mercy at the j udgment-seat ofheaven, 
The tenoer Jamb, that never nipt the grass, 
Is not mors innocent than 1 of murder. 
Lady R. Of this man's guilt what proof can 

1 Sen. We fotijid him lurking in the holkiw 
glen. 
When vtew'd and cali'd upon, amai'd he fled ■ 
We overtook Mm, and enqult'd from whence 
And what he was : he said he came from for. 
And was upon bis journey to the camp. 
Not satisfied with this, we search'd bis clothes, 
And found these jewels, whose rich value pleul 
Most powcrfiilly against him. Hard he seems. 
And old in villany. Permit us try 
His Btubbornnesa against the torture's force. 

Pris. Oh, gentle lady ! by your lord's dear life, 
WWch these weak hands, I awear did ne'er assail, 
And by your children's wel&re, spare my age! 
Let not the iron tear my ancient joints, 
And mygray hairs bring to the grave with pain. 

Lady R. Account lor these; thine own they 

For these, I say : be ataadfiist to the trufh ; 
Detected falsehood is most certain death. 

[Anna Temonea ike Skryantb, and returne. 

Pris. Alas 1 I'm aore beset ! let never man, 
For sake of lucre, ain against his soul I 
Et«mal justice is in this most just I 
I, guiltless now. muat former guilt reveal, 

Ladi/ R. Oh f Anna, hear I — once more I charge 
thee speak 
The truth direct ; for these to me foretell 
Andcertify apart of thy narration, 
With wliich, if the reminder tallies not, 
An instant and a dreadlul death abides thee. 

Pris. Then, thus adjur'd, I'll speak to you as 



Some eighteen yearfc ago I rented land 
Of bravo Sir Malrolm, then Bakirmo's ki 
But, falling to decay, his servants seii'd 
All that I iiad, and then ■ ■ ■ 
'" helpless infants ai__ 
the mercy of the w 
A little hovel by the rivers siue 
Recdv'd us; there hard labour, and the skill 
In lishins, which was formerly my sport. 
Supported life. Whilst thus we poorly liv'd, 
One stormy night, as I remember well, 
The wind and^m beat hard upon our roof; 
Red came the river down, and loud and oft 
The angry spirit of the water shriek'd. 
At the dead hour of night was heard (he cry 
Of one in jeopardy. 1 rose, and ran 
To where the oircUng eddy of a pool. 
Beneath the ford, us^ oft to bring within 



My reach whatever floating fhing the stream 
Had caught. The voice was ceas'3 ; tl 
But, looking sad and et 



as ceas'd ; the person lost. 



By the aiain'B light 1 saw, whfflod round and 

A basket ; soon I drew it to the bank, 
And, nestied curious, there an infent iay. 

LadyR. Was he alive 1 

Pria. He was. 

Lady R. Inhuman that then art [ 
How cooldst thou kill what waves and tempests 

Pris. I am not so inhuman. 
The needy man who has known better days. 
One whom distress has spited at tie world. 
Is he whom tempting fiends would jatch npon 
To do such deeM as make the prosperous men 
Lift up their heads, and wonder whocould do Ihetn, 
And snch a man was I: a man declin'd. 
Who saw no end of black adversity; 
Yet, foe tiie wealth of kingdoms, I would not 
Have touch'd thai in&nt with a hand of harm, 

I-ady .S, Ha 1 dost thou say so ■? then perhaps 

Pris. Not many days ago he was alive. 
Lady R. Oh, God of haiven ! did he then Am 

Pris. I did not say he died ; I hope he fives. 
Not many days ago these eyes beheld 
Himflouiishmginyouth, and health, and beauty. 

Lady R, WTiere is bo now 1 

Pris, Alas! I know not where. 

Lady R. Oh, fate I I fear thee still. Thou 
riddler, speak 
Direct and ckar; else I will search thy soul. 

Pris, Fear not my fiiith, though 1 must speak 
my sliame: 
Witliin the cradle where the infant la 
Was stow't 

Tempted b; _ _ __. 

From all the world this wonderful event, 
And like a peasant breed the noble child. 
That none might mark the change of our estate 
We left the country, travell'd to the north, ' 
Bought flocks and herds, and gradually brought 






forth 
Our secret wealth. But God's all 

Beheld our avarice, and smote ua a 

by one, all our own children died. 
And he, the stranger, sole remain'd the heir 
Of what indeed was bis. Fain dien would 1 
Who with a folher's fondness lov'd the boy, 



ic.i,= r,i^,oogle 



Foreboding evil, neser would consent. 
Meanwhile the stripling grew in years and lieanty ; 
And, as we oft obserT'd, he bote bimself, 
Not as the ofispring of our cottage blood ; 
For nature will br^ onl. mild with tbe mild, 
But with the froward he was iierco as fire ; 
And night and day he lallty ofwar and arms; 
I set myself against his warlilie bent ; 
But all in vain; fot when a desperate band 

Of rolibers ftom the aaTOge mountains came 

Lady B. Eternal Providence ' What is thy 

Pria. My nani:i is Worval ■ and my name he 

iorf if. 'Tia he! 'Us he himself ! Itismyso 
Oh, fioveragn roerey I 'twas my child I saw ! 

PriB. If 1, Btuidet aatonishment and fear, 
Have of joor words and gestures rightly judg'i 
Thon art the daughter ofmy ancient master ; 
The chSd I reecu'd from the flood Ih thine. 

Lady R. With tbeo, disfflmulation now wt 

I am indeed the daOEhler of Sir Maleolm; 
The child Ihou rescuVst from the flood is mine. 
Pria. Bless'd ,be tJie hour that made me a po 



rords surprise n 






The tear stands in thine eye ; aoch love fhim thee 
Sir Malcolm's house descrv'd not ; if aright 
Thou told'st the story of th" own distress. 

Pris. SirMaleolmofourbaronswastheflowet; 
Tlie safest friend, the best, the kindest master. 
Bui ah I he knew not ofmy sad estate. 
After that battle, where his gallant son, 
Your onm brave brother, fell, the good old lord 
Grew desperate and reckless of the world ; 
And never, as he erst was wont, went forth 
To overiook the conduct of his servants. 
By them I was thrust out, and them I blame ; 
May heaven so judge me as I judge my master I 
And God ED kne me as 1 lovs his lace I 

Lad/gB. His race shaU yet reward thee. On 
thy Kiith 
Depends the fete of thy lov'd master's house. 
Rememb'Test thou a little, lonely hut. 
That like a holy hermifage ^pears 
Among the elifts of Carron f 

pTis, I remember the cottage of the cliHs. 

Lady K. 'Tis that I mean : 
There dwells a man of venerable age, 
Who in my fetber's service spent his yonth : 
Tell him Isent thee, and with him remain, 
Till I shaU call npan thee to declare, 
Before the king and nobles, what thou now 
To me baat toB, No more but this, and (hou 
Shall live in honour ell thy future days ; 
Thy son so long shaU call thee fether still. 
And att the land shall bless the man who aav'd 
The son of Douglas, and Sir Malcolm's heir. 
Remember wen my words; if thou shouldst meet 
Him, whom thon call'st thy son, still call him so; 
And mention nothing of his nobler father. 

Pria. Fearnotthat Isballmarso ikiraharvBBt, 
By pntling in ray sickle ere 'tis ripe, 
Why did 1 leave my home and ancient dame 
To find the youth, to tell him all I knew, 
And make him wear these jewels on his a 
Which niight, I thought, be challeng'd 

Tn heht the secret of his noble birth. 



Zi. 



[Ladt Randolph goes Imoarde the SfiRViNT* 
Lady R. This man is not the assassin you 
suspected, 
Though enance combin'd some likelihood agairsi 

He is the feithfiil bearer of the jewels 
To their right owner, whom in haste he seeks. 
'Tis meet that you should put him on his way. 
Since yonr mistaken leal hath dragged him hither. 
[JUxeiirit Phisokeh and Sehvants. 
My aithful Anna I dost thou share my joy ? 
I know thou dost UnparaUel'd event 1 
Beaching from heaven to earth, Jehovah's arm 
Snatch'o from the waves, and brings me to my eon 1 
Judge of the widow, and the orphan's fether, 
Accept a widow's and ainothei^s thanks 
For such a gift ! What does my Anna think 
Of the young eaglet of a valiant neat % 
How soon he gai'd on bright and burning arms, 
Spurn'd the low dunghffl where his Site ii^ 

thrown him,' 
And lower'd up to the regions of his sire 1 

Anna. How fondly dici your eyes devour the boyl 

Urslerious nature, vrith the unseen cord 
Of powerful inatinet, draw you to your own. 

Lady It. The ready atojy of his birth believ'd, 
Suppress'd my finey quite ; nor did he owe 
To any likeness my so sudden fevour: 
But now I long to see hia lace again, 
Eiamine every feature, and finifout 
The lineaments of Douglas, or ray own. 
But, moat of all, I long to let Mm know 
Who bis true parents are, to clasp his neck, 
And tell him all the stotj of his father. 

Anna. With wary caution you must bear you( 



If the least circumstance, mote of oflence, 

Should touch the baron's eye, his sight would bff 

Withjeabusydiaorder'd. But the more 

It does behove me instant to declare 

TiiB birth of Douglas, and assert hia riehls. 

Anna. Behold, Glenalvon comes. 

Lady R. Now I shun him not. 
This day I brav'd him in behalf of Nerval; 
Periiaps loo far; at least my nicer fears 
For Dougiaa thus interpret. 

Enter GLENAr.YO«. 
Glen, Noble dame, 

he hovering Dane at laat his men hath landed : 
No band of pirafea; but a mighty boat. 
That come to settle where their valour conquers : 
in a country, or to lose themselves, 
ibia courier, sent from yonder camp, 
To hasten tip the chieftains of the north, 
Inibrm'd me as he pass'd, that the fierce Dane 
ad on the eastern coasts of Lothian landed. 
Lady R. How many mothers shall bewail their 

ow many vridows weep their husbands slain ! 
Ye dames of Denmark, even for you I feel. 
Who sadly sitting on the sea-beat shore. 
Long look for lords that never shall return. 

Glen. Oft has th' unconquer'd Caledonian sworrt 

Widow'd the north. The chiUren of the slain 

as 1 hope, to meet their fethers' fate. 

monster War, with her infernal brood, 



o; *^.OOg IC 



«36i«r] DOl 

Loud yeiiing fof) ind life-ending pain 
Are objects suited to GienaWon s soui 
Scorn IS more grieTOUa thiii the paim of death, 
Reprnach more piercing than the pointed sword 
Lady R I s,.orii Ihet: nal, but When I ought t 

Against ai 

Than I tb jWaBMfHine effii;.™^.., „„ 
itAtfbi the «(ih4 of thy martial fcnu. 
No mMt TOinly le«d i g<filty passion 
Go anf puMoe a LHWat BifeWrtB, Gtoiy 
UptjL tbe DanaJi CMrf JWeem % feult 
Aitf m thy i^lbtir be the ^!eM of lUndoliA 

^H^ OMiliEtaM«M;,t|ndhearanalterdmu 
When beaatf pleadn Sat latoe, vice abash'd 
Fne* IM o*n oMoura, an* towti o'er to virtue 
I ixa voM iioiirt«, thae wm sha* how tmiy 
yet Me iiiiiiit£M6 proof I mean to give 
That yndth, fat wbonx yonr anfent leil today 
Somental loo haughtily defied v^nr slave, 
Amidst the shook of atmieS 1 11 defend 
And turn death from him with a guardian arm 

Lady R Act thus, Glfnilion, and I am Eh' 



The Danea are landed we mast beat (hem hack, 
Or hve the slaves el Denmark 

Lady R Dreadful time ' 

LordJi The feDLelesBvUlagee are all forsaken, 
The trembling mothers and (heir children lodg'd 
In wall girt towers and castles ' whilst the men 
Retire indignant yet like broken waves 
They hnt retire more awful to return 

LadyR Immense, as feme reports, the Danish 



L<,rdR Wen 



But that's thy least reward. Believe me, S\t 
The truly eeneioua is the truly wise , ' 
And he, who loves not others, lues, unblessd 

[Bxahim ilANDOLr 

(Men Amanl and virtue mis onn reward 
I think that 1 have hit the very tone 
In which ihe loveo to speak Honey'd assent 
How pleasant art thou, to the laste of man, ' 
And woman also I flatterv direut 
Rarely disgusts They little know mankind 
Who doubt ita operation 'lis my key, 
And opes the wicket of the human heart 
How ftr I have succeeded now, I know not , 
Ye' luichneto thint her atonny virtue 
Is luli'd awhiie 'lis her alone I fear 
While she and Randolph live, and live in taith 



IS pawn'd his soul 
. - — suggest 
J..U..1U, .m told, has thai alluriiw look, 
i'wirt npn and woman, whidi I have obeeiv'd 
To c^^um the nice^ and Antailic dames, 
Who are, like Lady ftaidoIpK, full of virtue 
In taiBingBandolpli'a jealousy I may 
But poml him to the truth He seldom errs. 
Who thmka the worst he can of womankmd 

{Bxii 

ACT IV 

SCENE I— The tame 

Enter LoBD RanDolpb, aUended 

Lord R Summon a hundred horse, by break 

To wart our pleasure at the castle gale 
Bni-T Lady Randolph 
LadyR Alls, my lord I've heard unwelcome 



Lord R. Ay, no inroad this 
Of riie Nortliumbriai., bent to late a spoil ; 
Nn =™™ii™ „■„. ^u tournament essay, 



It as numerous as loud fame 

-ly'kmt'hke ours would pierce it through 
Brothers that shtmk not from each other s siS 
And fond cofliwinionfl, fill our warhke files 
For his dear ofla|lnng and the wife he lovea. 
The husband and the fearless lather arm. 
In I ulgar breasts heroii 4rJour burns. 
And the poor peasant matoa his djnng lord 

LadyR Men's minds are temper J, hka theit 
sworua for war, 
Lovers of danger on destruction's bnnk 
Thev joy to rear erect their danng forms 
Hence early graves , hence the lone widow's hft 
And the aad mother's gnel embitterd oge 
Where is our gallant gufsti 

Lard R Down in the vale 
I left him managing a fiery Rte«d, 
Whose stubbornness had fod'd the -Jrength and 

nt every nder But now he comes 
In earnest conversation with Glenalvou 

-Enter Nohtai. and Glenaltoh 
Gleiialvon, with the lark arise , go forth 
And lead my troops (hat lie m yonder vale 
Pniate 1 travel to the royal camp 
Nori al thou goest with me Bu t siy, young man. 
Where didst thou learn so to discourse of vrar, 
And m such terms, as 1 tferheard to^lay 5 
War IS no vdlage stience, nor Us phrase 
A language taught amongst the shepherd swaina. 
Noe SmalIislhBskillmykirddelJghtatoprais« 
In him he fevouis Hear from whence it came. 
Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote 
And inaccSsBible by shepherds trod, 
In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand 
A hermit liv'd , a melancholy man I 
Who was the wonder of our vraiid'ring swains 
Austere and lonely, cruel to himselt 
Did they report him, the cold earth his bed. 
Water his dnnk, his lood the shepherds' alms 
I went to see him, and my heart was toueh'd 
With rei'renceand with pity Mddhe spake 
And, entenng on discourse, such stones toii ' 
As made me oft revisit his sad cell 
Pot he had been a soklier in bis youth, 
And fought in famous battles, when the peew 
Ot Europe, by the bold Godlredo led, 
Acamst the usurping infidel display'd 
The blessed cross and won the Holy Land 
Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire 
His speech struct from me, tlie old man would 

His years away, and act his young encounlers 
Then, having show'd his wounJs, he'd sit hun 

And all the live-long day discourse of war. 
To help my fency, in the smooth gre«n turf 
He cut the figures of the marshaliy hosta; ' 
Describ'd the motions, and eiplain'd the line 
Of the deep column, and the lengtben'd line 



lc.l,dr,l^,OOgle 



DOUGLAS. 



The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm: 
For air that Saracen ot Christtaii knew 
Of war'a vast art, waa to this hermit known. 

Lard R. Why Jid this eoldier in a desert hide 
Those qualides that should have grac'd a camp t 

Nor. That loo atlasl I learn'd. Unhappy man! 
Returning homewards by Messina's port, 
Loaded with wealth and"^ honours bravely won, 
A rude and boist'roas csptmn of the sea 
Pasten'd a i^uatrel on him. Fierce they fijoght : 
The stranger fell, and with hia dving breath 
Declai'd hi8 name and lineage. Mighty power ! 
The soldier cried, my brother I Oh, ray brother ! 

torfjr R. His Wolher ! 

Nor. Yes ; trf the same parents born ; 
His only brotW. They exchanged forgiveoesa ; 
Ami happy in ray mmd was he that died ; 
For many deaths haa the survivor suffered. 
In the wild desert on a rock he ats, 
Or on some nanteleas stream's ui^ioilden banks, 
And ruminates all day his dreadful Mb, 
At times, alas ! not in bis perfect mind. 
Holds dialogues with his lov'd brother's ghost; 
And oft earli night tbrsakes his sullen couch, 
To make sad orisons for hira he slew. 

Ladff R. In this dire tragedy were there no more 
Unha.ppy persons 1 did the parents live 1 

Nor. No, they were dead ; kind heaven had 
olos'd their eyes. 
Before their son had shed his brother's blood. 

Lord R. Hard is bis fate; for lie was not to 

There is a destiny in this strange world. 
Which oft.decrees an undeserved doom : 
Lei schoolmen leli ua why — 

[ Trwinpeta at a distance. 
From whence these sounds t 

Enter an Officer. 
OJ/i. My lord, the trumpets of the troops of 

The valiant leader hails the noble Randolph, 
Lord R. Mine ancient guest ! does he tie war- 
riors lead 1 

Has Denmark rous'd the brave old kiught in armsl 
Qgt. No ; worn vtith warfere, he leaigna the 

His eldest hope, the valiant John of Lorn, 
Now leads his kindred bands. 

LardR. Glenalvon, go; 
With hospitality's most strone request 
Entreat the chief. [Erii QtENiLVON. 

tj^. My k)rd, reguests are vain. 
He ur^s on, impatient of delay. 



Bravest of men ! his flocks and herds are safe ; 
Remote from war's alarms his pastures lie. 
By mountains inaccessible secur'd ; 
Yet foremost he into the plain descends. 
Eager to bleed in ba'tles not his own. 
I'll go and press the hero to my breast. 

[Exit wilh Oppicer. 
lAidy R. The scJdier's lorancss, the pride and 



Now, if I live, with mighty chiefs I stand : 
And, if I fall, with noble dust I lie. 

Lady R. There is a generous spirit in thj 

That could have well sustmn'd a prouder Ivrtiiiie. 
This way with me ; under yon spreading beech 
Unseen, unheard, by human eye or ear, 
I will amaze thee with a wondrous tale. 

Nor. X^t there be danger,lBdy, with thesecrst, 
That I may hug it to my gcatetui heart. 
And prove my fiith. Command my sword, my Ilia 
These are the sole poasessions of poor Norvi. 

Lady R. Know'sl thou these gems 1 

Nor, Durst I beheve mine eyes. 



were thy lather a [ 

Not. I saw them once, and curiously inquir'd 
Of both my parents, whence such splendour caniB 
But I was check'd, and more could never learn. 

Lady R. Then learn of me— thou art not No». 
val's aon. 

Nor. Not Nerval's aoul 

Lady R. Nor of a shepherd sprung. 

Not. Who am I then i 

Lady R. Noble thou art, 
For noble was thy aire. 

Nm. I*rill believe 

Oh, tell me further ! say, Who was my fiitharl 

Lady R. Douglas I 

Nrrr. Lord Douglas, whom tn-day 1 saw ■? 

Lady R, tils younger brother. 

Nor'. And in yonder camp 1 

Lady R. Alas ! 

Not. You oiaka me tremble — Sighs and tears ! 
Lives ray brave lather % 

Lady R. Ah 1 too brave, indeed ! 
He fiill in battle ere thyself was bom. 

Nor. Ah me, unhappy ! ere I saw the light < 
But does my mother hve '! I may conclude. 
From my own fate, her portion has been sorrow. 

Lady R. She lives; but wastes her life in con- 

Weepins her husband slain, her infant lost. 

Not. YouthatareskiU'dsowellinl^sadstoi? 
Of my unhappy parents, and with leaiB 
Bewail th^r d»i(my, now have corapassbn 
Upon f he crffspring of the friends you lov'd ; 
Oh, tell me who and where ray mother is I 
Opprasa'd by a base worid, perhaps she bends 
Beneath tha weight of other ills than grief; 
And, desolate, implores of heaven the aid 
Her son should give. It is, it must be, so — 
Your countenance confesses that she 's wretched. 

Oh, lelt me her condition ! Can the sword 

Who shall resist me in a parent's cause 1 

Lady R. Thy virtue ends her wo — My son! 

I am thy mother, and the wife of Douglas ! 

[FaUs upon hia neek. 

Not. Oh, heaven and earth ! how wondrous is 
my &te ! 
Art thou my mother'! Ever let me kneel ! 

Lady R. Image of Douglas 1 fruit of fetal lOM I 
All that I owe thy sire I pay to thee. 

Nor. Respect and admiration still poaseas me, 
Checking the love and fondness of a son: 
Yet I was Blial to my humble parents. 
But did my aire surpass the rest of men. 
As thou exc«llest all of womankind 1 . 

tadt^fl. Arise, myson. In me thou dost behold 
The poor remains ot beauty onco admir'd. 



r,l^.OOglC 



Vel in my prime I eq^uall'd not thy fatiier; 
His eyea were like the eagle's, yet sometimes 
' -'-31 the dove's; and, as he pleas'd, he won 



Of all thy Other's and thy mother's noes. 
At present this— Thou art the rightful heir 
Of yonder castle, and the wide domains, 
Which now Lord Randolph, as my hu8band,hoIda. 
But thou shalt not hs wrong'd ; I havo the power 
To right theo atill. Before the king I'll kneel, 
And call Lord Douglas to protect his blood. 

Nor. The blood of Douglas will protect itself. 

Lady R. But we shall need hoth iiiends, and 
&Tonr, boy. 
To wrest thy lands and lordship from the gripe 
Of Randolph and his kinsman. Yet I thmk 
My tale wiil move each gentle heart to pity, 
My life indine the virtuous to believe. 

Nor. To be the son of Douglas is to me 
Inheritance enough I Declare my birth. 
And in the field Ili seek for fame and fortiune. 

Lady R. Thou dost not know what perils and 
injustiee 
Await the poor man's valour. Oh, my sod [ 
The noblest blood of al) the land 's abaah'd, 
Having no lackey hat pale poserty. 
Too long hast thou been thus attended, Douglas t 
Too lon^ hast thou been deem'd a peasant's 

The wanton heir of some m^orious chief 
Perhapn has Bcom'd thee in thy youthful sports, 
Whilst thy indignant spirit sweli'd in vain. 
Such contumely thou no more shalt bear: 
Bat how I purpose (a redress thy wrongs 
Must be hereafter told. Prudence directs 
That wa should part before yon chief'a return, 
Raire, and from thy rustie follower's hand 
Receive a billet, which thy miiher'a care, 
Anxious to see thee, dictated before 
This casual opportunity arose 
Of private conference. Us purport mark ; 
For, as I there appoint, we meet again. 
Leave me, my son, and frame thy manners still 
To Norial's, not to noble DouglaS' state. 

Nor. I will remember. Where is Norral now, 
Thai good old man "i 

Lady R. At hand conceal'd he lies, 
A useful witness. But beware, my son, 
Of yon Gtenalvon ; in his guilty breast 
fieeides a villain's shrewdness, ever prone 
To &lse conjecture. He hath sriev'd ray fieart. 

JVor. Has he, indeed 1 Then let yon ii^ 
Glenalvon 
Beware of me. [ExU. 

Lady R. There burst the smother'd flame. 
O, thou all-righteous and eternal Kingi 
Who lather oT the fatherless art cali'd 
Protect mv BonI thy inspiration. Lord ! 
Hath fill'd his bosom with that sacred fire, 
Which in the breasts of hia forefethers burn'd : 
Set bim on high, like them, that he may sUne 
The star and glory of his native land ! — 
Yonder they come. How do bad women find 
Unchanging aspacta (o conceal their guilt, 
When I, by reason and by justice urg'd 



Enter Lonn R1NDO..PH ajid Glenalvon, 

LordR. Yon gallant chief. 
Of arms onamourd, all repose disclaims. 
Lady R, Be not, my lord, by his eiample 

Arrange the business of to-morrow now. 
And when you enter, speak of war no more. 

[Exit. 
Lord R. 'Tis so, by heaven I her mien, her 






!je. 



Oten, He parted fifom & 



Gien. Most true, my lord, 
LordR. Yet this diatinguish'd dame 
Invites a youth, the acquamtance of a day, 
Alone to meet her at the midnighl hour. 
This Bsagnation, [jSRimot a /eWcr.] the assassi) 

Her manifest alfeetion for the youth, 
Might breed suspcion in a husband's brain, 
"' - - - gentle consort a!! for lose had wedded : 
; :__ Mati]|ja,n< ' " 



Much m 
Letnc 



, after m 






Whose heart he know 

A mine of gokl, a kingdom, for her dovray ; 
Per let her seem, like the night's shadowy queen. 
Cold and contemplative — he cannot trust iiet ; 
She may, she will, bringshameand sorrow on him; 
The worat of sorrovre, and the worst of shames t 

Glen. Yield not, my lord, to such afliieting 
thoughts. 
But let the spirit of a husband sleep, 
Till your own senses make a sure conclusion. 
This biilBt must to blooming Nerval go : 
At the neit turn awaits my trusty spy j 
I'll sive it him refitted for his master. 
In tne ck)se thicket lake your secret stand ; 
The moon shines bright, and your own eye"? may 

judge 
Of their behaviour. 

Lord R. Thou dost counsel well. 

Glen. Permit me now to make one slight essay: 
Of ail the trophies, which vain mortals boast, 






^ wit, by ndou 

'The first and fairest in a yc 

la woman's captive heart. . . 

With glorious fumes intoxicates the mind, 
And the prond conqueror in triumph tnoves, 
Air-borne, exalted above vulgar men. 

Lord R. And what avMls this maxim 1 

Glen. Much, my lord. 
Withdraw a little ; I'll accost young Norval, 
And with ironical, derisive counsel 
Explore hia sinrit. If he is no more 
Than humWe Nerval, by thy lavour rais'd, 
Brave as he is, hell shrink aslonish'd from mo i 
But, if he be the fevourite of the fair, 
Lov'd by the first of Caledonia's dames, 
Hell turn upon me, as the lion turns 
Upon the hunter's spear. 

LordR. 'Tis shrewdly thought. 

Glen. When we grow loud, draw near. But 
let my lord 
His rising vtrath, restrain !— [Exit RAHnoLpa 
'Tis strange, by heavenl 
That she should run full tilt her fond career 



o;*^.ooglc 



IftS DOl 

To one so little known. She, too, Chat gecis'd 
Pure HB the winter atream, when ice, emboss'il, 
Whitens its course. Even I iM think her chaste, 
Whoso charity eiceeda not. Precic 
Whose deeds lascivious pass GlenalTOn'a thoughts! 

Enisr Noryal. 
H-ia port I love : he 'b in a proper mood 
To chide the thundar, if at him it loar'd. — 

[Asidt 
Has Norial Been the troops % 

Nor. The setting sun 
With yellow radiance hghten'd at] the yale ; 
And BB the warriors mov'ii, each polist'd hajni, 
Corslet, or spear, glanc'd hack tua gilded beams. 
The hill Ih^ clirob'd, and, halUng at its top, 
Of more than mortal HZe, towenog, the; seeia'd 
A host angelic, clad in burning aims. 

Glen. Thontalk'stitwell;nole^erofourhoa 
In sounds more loRj speaks of glorious war. 

Nor. If I shall e'er acquire aleader'a name, 
My speech will be less awent. Novelty 
Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration 
Vents itself freoiy ; ance no part is mine 
Of praise pertaining to the great in arms. 

Glen, Vou wrong jouiSelf, brave Sir ; your 
martial deeds 
irank'd; " 

Norval 

Jjord Randolph's favour now eialts your youth 
Above his Telerans of famous service. 
Let me, who know these soldiers, counael you. 
Give ihem all honour : seem not to command; 
Ela^ thoy will scarcely bronk your late sprung 

Wliich nor fiance props, nor birth adorns, 

^OT, Sir, I have lieen accuatomed all my days 
To hear and speak the plain and rample truth : 
And though I have been told that there are men 
Who bonw friendship's tongue to speak theii 

Yet in auch language I am little skill'd. 
Thereibre I thank Glenalvon for his counsel. 
Although it sqonded harshly Why remind 
Me of my birth obscure 1 Why alur my powec 
With such contemptuous terms 1 

Glen. I did not mean 
Tj} rail your pride, which now I see is great. 

I&r. My pride I 

Glen, oppress it, as you wish to prosper. 
Your pride 's excesave. Yet tor Randolph'a sake, 
I will luit leave you to its lash direction. 
If thus you sweU, and frgwn at high-bom men, 
Will bighrborn men endure a shepherd's scorn 1 

Nor. A shepherd';- ' 



What vriU become of joul 

Not-. If this were lAi 1 [Aaide. 

Hast thou no ftata fat thy presumptuous aelfl 

ijlen' !^l lipst thou threaten me? 

A&r. Didat thou not hearl 

Glen. Unwillingly I did ; a nobler foe 
Had not been ^uestHin'd thus. ButBUchaathBe — 

Nor. Whom dorf thouthink mo 1 

Glen. Nonil. 

Nor. So I am— 
jftjjd who is I|fo'^'''i in Glenalson's weaT 

Oten. ApeBHant'Bson,awand.eri(igl)eggarhoy; 
At ]iBBt no nwre, even if he speaks Che truth. 

Nor. Fatae as thou ait, doat thou suspect iny 
, tnithi 



Glen. Thy truth! thou'rt all a lie: and blse as 
hell 
Is the vainglorious tale thou told'st to itandolph. 

Nor. If! werechain'd,unarm'd,Bndl>ed-ridohl, 
Perhaps I should Isvile: but, aa 1 am, 
1 have no tongue to rail The humble Nerval 
Is of a race wno strive not but with deeds. 
Did I not tear to Jireeze thy shallow valour, 
And make thee Huk too soon beneath ray sword, 
I'd teti thee— what thou art, 1 know thee well. 

Glen. Dost thoU Dot know Glenalvon born to 



Ten thousand slaves like thee 

Nor. Villain, no more I [Draa*. 

Draw, and defend th^ life. I did design 
To have defied thee in another cause ; 
But heaven accelerat«E its vengeance on thee. 
Now for my own and Lady Randolph'a wrongs. 
[The!,^ght. 
Enter Lohd Rjndolph. 
Lard R. Hold, I command you both. The man 

Makes me his foe. 

Nor. Another vince than tjiine 
That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph. 

Glen. Hear him, my lord ; he'swoadrouscon- 
deacending ! 
Mark the humility of shepherd Norvat I 

Nor. Now you may scoff in safety. 

{Sheathes his sinerd. 

LordR. Speak not thus, 
Taunting each other; but unfold to me 
The cause of quarrel, then I judge betwiit you. 

Nor. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you 

My caose I plead not, nor demand yotjr judgment 
I blueb to speak ; I will not, cannot, apeak 
The opprobrious words that 1 from him have 

To the liege lonJ of my dear natife land 
I owe a subject's homage; but even him 
And his Wgh aibltration I'd reject. 
Within my bosom reigns another lord ; 
Honour, aole judge and umpire of itself 
If my firee speech olTend you, noble itandolph. 
Revoke your favours, and let Norval go 
Hence as he came, alone, hut not dishonour'd. 
Lord R. Thus Rir I'll mediate with impaitial 

he anciont'foe of Caledonia's land 
Now wavea her banners o'er her frighted fields. 
Suspend your purpose, tiUyour counlry'sarmH 
Repel the bold in^er; Chen decide 
The private quarrel. 

Glen, t agree Co this. 

Ner. And I. 

Enter SERViNT. 

Sero. The banquet waits. 

Lord R. We come. lExH, with Sebv. 

Glen. Norval, 
Let nrd onr variance mar the social hour, 

vrong the hospitality of Randolph, 

Nor frownmg anger, nor yet wrinkled hate, 
Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy 

Nor let our rfrife disturb the gentle dame. 

Nor. Think not so .lightly. Sir, of my resent- 
When we contend again, oui strife is mortal. 

[Exeanl. 



, Google 



SCENE l.~A Wood. 
EjiIst DonoLis. 
Doug. ThiBistheplaee.lheceiitraof thegrove; 
Here stands tike oak, the moaarch of the wood. 
How sweet anil solemn is this midnight scene ! 
The silver moon, nndoaded, holds her way 
Through skies, where I coaJd count each little atai ; 
The fiinning west wind scarcely s^rs the (eaves ; 
The river, rushing o'er its pebbled bed, 
Imposes silence with a stil]; sound. 
In such a place as (Ms, at such an hour, 
If ancestry can be in aught belioy'd, 
Descending spiiits have conversed with men, 
And told the aecrets of the world unknown. 



His just repToachI tear. [DoDGLtssees him. 
Forgive I foreive! 

Canst thou rorgive the man, the selfish man, 
Who bred Sir Malcolm's bar a shepherd's son 1 

Dmt^. Kneel not to me ; thou art my ^her still. 
Tby wish'd-fbr presence now completes my joy. 
Welcome to me; my fortunes thou shalt share. 
And ever honour'd with thy Douglas live. 

OMiV. AnddostthoucidlmeMher? Oh, my 

I think that I could die to make amends 
For the great wrong T diiJ thee. 'Tvras my crime, 
Which in the wilderness so long conceal'd 
The blossom of tby youth. 

Doug. Not worse the fruit, 
That in the wilderness the blossom blow'd. 
Amongst the shepherds, in the humble cot, 
I learn d some lessons, which I'll not forget 
When 1 inhabit yonder lolly to 



The poor nt 



's friend; a 






xuepuuruuiiiuirieiii]; aim, wueiiiiiy vassais oow, 
Nerval shall smooth the crested pride of Douglas. 

Old N. Let me but live to see thine eialtaSon ! 
Vet grievous are my fears. Oh, leave this place, 
Andlhofle unfriendly towersi 

Doug. Why should I leave thorn? 

Old N. Lord Randolph and his kinsman seek 
your life. 

Doug. How know'at thou that? 

Old N. I will inform you how. 
When GveniDg came, Ilefl the secret [dace 
Appointed for me by your mother's care, 
And fondly trod in each acciistom'd path 
"That to the castle leads. Whilst thus I rang'd, 
I was alarm'd with unexpected wtunds 
Of earnest voices. On the persons came. 
Unseen I lurk'd, and overheard them name 
£ach other as they talk'd, lord ftaudolpb this, 
And that Glenalvon. Still of you they spoko, 
And ofthe lady: threat'ning was their speech, 
Though but imperfectly my ear could hear it. 
!Twas strange, they said, a wonderful discovery; 
And ever and anon they vow'd revenge. 

Dotig. Revenge ! for what 1 

OldN. For being what you are, 
Sir Malcolm's heir: how else have you offended? 
When they were gone, 1 hied me to my cottage, 
And there sat musing how 1 best might find 
Means to inform you of their wicked purpose ; 
But I coulij think of none. At last, perplex'd, 
I issued forth, encompassing the t^iwer, 



;LAS. 167 

With many a wearied step and wishful look. 
Now Providence hath brought you to my sight, 
Let not your too courageous spn-it scorn 
The caution which I give. 

My mother watn'd me of Glenalvon's baseness: 
But I will not suspect the noble Randolph. 
In our encounter with the vWe assassms, 
I mark'd his brave demeanour; him I'll trust. 

Old N. I fear you will, too hi. 

Dovg. Here in this place 
I wait my mother's coining ; she shall know 
What thou hast told : her counsel I will follow: 
And cautious ever are a mother's counsels. 
You must depart : your presence may prevent 

(Xd N. My blessing rest upon thee! 
Oh, may heaven's hand, which Bav'd thee from 

And from the sword of foes, be near thee still ; 
Turning mischance, if aught hangs o'er thy head, 
All upon mine! [Exit. 

Doug. He loves me like a parent; 
And must not, shall not, lose the son he loves, 
Although his son has found a nobler &ther. 
Eventful day 1 how hast thou chang'd my state ! 
Once, on the cold and winter-shaded side 
Of a bleak bill, mischance had rooted me, 
Never to thrive, child of another soil ; 
Transpianted now to the say sunny vale. 
Like the green thorn of May my fortune flowers. 
Ye glorious stars! high heaven's resplenden' ' '' 



Dead or alive, let me but be renown'd ! 
May heaven inspire some fierce gigantic Dane, 
To give a hold defiance to our host 1 
Before he speaks it out, I will accept: 
Like Douglas conquer, or like Douglas die. 
Enter Lady Randolph. 

Lady R, My son ! I beard a voice — 

Dmg. The voice was mine. 

Lady R. Didst thou complain aloud to nature's 

That thus in dusky shades, at midnight hours. 
"y stealth the mother and the son should meet. 
[ They embrace, 
Doag. No; on this happy day,thisbetterbuth- 



Now hear what I advise — 

Doug. First, let me tell 
What may the tenour of jonr counsel change. 

Lady R, My heart forebodes some evil. 

Doug. 'Tis not good — 

t eve, unseen by Randolph and Glenalvon, 
The good old Norval in the grave o'erbeard 
Their conversation; oft they mentioned me 
With dreadful threat'nings; you they sometimn 

s strange, they said, a wonderful discoveij ; 
And ever and anon they vow'd revenge. 

Lady R Defend us, gracious God T we are be 

They have found oat the secret of tby biithl 
It must be so. That is the great discovery. 
Sir Malcolm's hdr is come to claim his own; 
And they will he reveng'd. Perhaps even now, 
Arm'd and prepar'd for murder, they but wait 



r, i^.oogle 



DOUGLAS: 



A darker ani! mora aleiit hour, to break 

InW the chamber where they think Ihon sleep'et. 

This moment, this, heaven halh ordahi'd to save 

Ply ta the camp, my son ! 

Doug, And leaveyou here? 
No : to the castle let us go together, 
Call up the ancient servants of year house. 
Who m their youth did eat your fether's bread ; 
Then tell them loudly, that I am your son. 
If in the breasts of men one aparii lemains 
Of BBcreu love, fidelity, or pity. 
Some in your cause will arm. I ask hut few 
To drive these spoilers from my fetter's house. 

Lady R. Oh, nature, nature I nrbat can check 
thy force 1 
Thou genuine of&pring of the daring Douglas ! 
But nuih not on destruction : save thyself. 
And I am aafe. To me they mean no harm. 
Th^ Bta^ but risks thy precious life in vain. 
■ Tlat winding path conducts thee to the river. 
Cross where thou seest a. broftd and beaten way, 
Which, runninff eastward, leads thee to the camp. 
Instant demancTadmittBnce to kird Douglas : 
Show him these jewels which his brother wore. 
Thy look, thy voiiM, will make Urn feel the 

truth. 
Which I by certain proof will soon confirm, 

Doug. I yield me, and obey ; but yri my heart 
Bleeds at this parting. Soiuethini; hide me stay, 
And guard a mother e life. Oft have I read 
Of wondrous deeds by one bold arm achiev'd. 
Our fbra are two ; no more : letmego forth. 
And see if any shield can guard Qlenalvon. 

hady R, If thou regard st thy mother, or re- 

Thy father's memory, think of this no more. 
One thing I have to say betbre we part : 
Longwertlhou lost; and thou artfijund, my child. 
In a most fearful season. War and battle 
I have great cause to dread. Too well I pee 
Which way the current of thy temper seta . 
To-day I have found thee. Oh ! my long-lost 

(fthou to giddy valour giv'stthe rein. 
To-morrow 1 may lose my son for ever. 
The love of thee, before thou saw'at the light, 
Snstain'd my hie when thy bntve fether mh 
If thou shall fell, I have nor bve nor hope 
In this waste world I My soi^ remember me ! 
Dmtg. What shall I say 1 How can I give you 
ramfert 1 
The God of battles of my life dispose 
As may be beat for you I for whose dear sake 
I will not bear myself as I resolv'd. 
But yet consider, as no vulgar name. 
That which I boast, sounds among martial men, 
How will inglorious caution suit my claim 1 
The post of fete unshrinking I maintam. 
My country's foes must witness who I am. 
On the invaders' heads I'll prove ray birth, 
'Till friends and fosa confess the genuine strain. 
If in this strife 1 ^1 blame not your aon, 
Who, if he live not honour'd, must not live. 
^LadyB. I will not utter what ny boaom feels, 
that valour which I warn. 









[ TTieu emfrrace. 
■en hath will'd it, all must be. 

[ Jliey separate, 
hou wilt mistake the path; 



Lard R. Not in her preaenca. 
Now 

Glen. I'm prepared. 

Lord a. No ; I command thee, atav. 
I so alone : it never shall be said 
That I took odds to combat morlHl nmn. 
The noblest vengeance is the i 



[Gij: 






[£!xit. 



e steps to the m 



, the stage, listene, and speaks. 

Glen. Demona of death, come settle on my sword, 
And to a double slaughter guide it home ! 
The lover and the husband both must die. 

LordR. [Without.] Draw, villain 1 draw ! 

Doug. [Without.] Assail me not, Lord Han- 



Enter Lady Randoijih, at the opposite side of 
the stage, faint and breathless. 

Lady R. Lord Randolph, hear me : all shall ha 
But spare ! Oh, spare my son t 

Enter DoDGLAE,miA a sword ineoe/t hand. 

Doug. My mother's ' 



ci thee still 



w thee fell. 



Butsu 

Doug. It was Glenalvon. 

Lst as my ami had raaster'd Randolph's sword, 
The villain came behind me ; but I slew hhn. 

Lady R. Behind thee I ah ! thou art wounded I 
Oh, my child, 
How pale thou look'st I and shall 1 lose thee now 1 

Doag. Do not despair: I feel a httle feintness, 
I hope it virill not laat. [Leans upon Ms sword. 

Lady R. There is no hops I 
. nd we must part! the hand of death is on thee! 
Oh 1 my beloved child I O Douglas, Douglas 1 

[Douglas groaing more and more faint, 

Doag. Oh ! had I (alien as my brave &thas fell, 
Turning with fatal arm the tide of battle, 
Like them I should have smil'd and welcom'd 

But thus to perish by a villdn'a hand I 
Cut offtrom nature's and from glory's course, 
Which never mortal was so fond to run. 
LadyR, Hear, justice, hear! stretch thy aveng- 
ing arm I [DOUOLAS/Oiil. 

Boug-. Unknown I die ; no tongue shall speak 

Some noble spirits, judpng hy themselvEs, 
May yet conjecture wmil 1 might have prov'd, 
And think life only wanting to my fame: 
Bat who shall comfort thee t 

Lady R. Despair, despair ' 

Doug. Oh, had it pltas'd high Heaven to lst 

A tittle while '. my eyes that ga™ on thee 

Grow dim apace ! my mother — O ! my mother ! 
[Dies; Lad T fi*NDOLPnyo!n(s upon iAe bo(%. 

Enter Lord Randolfh and Ann*. 
Liyrd R. Thy worda, thy words of "truth, hav* 

pierc'd my heart : 
am the stain of knighthood and of arms. 



oX'OdgLC 



Oh ! if mj brave ileliverer survives 
The traitor's sword 

Anna. Alas ! look there, mj lord. 

Lord R. The mother and her eon ! 

Was T the caoso 7 No : I was not the cause. 
Ton nualchless vitlain did seduce my soul 
To franlicjeaiouey. 

Anna. My Jady lives : 
The agony of grief hath but suppreas'd 
Awhile her powers. 

liord R. Botrnj deliverer 'e dead ! . 

Lady R. JJiecoiiering'.j Where am I now"! 
Still in this wretched world "i 
Qrief cannot break a heart so liord as mine. 

ZiOrd R. Oh, nUBBTy ! 
Amidst thy raging gnef I must proclaim 
My innocence. _ 

Laibj R. Thy innocence J 

Lord R. My guilt 
I« innocence oonipar'd with what thou think'st it. 

LadyR. Of thee Ithink not; whathaveltodo 
With thee, or any thing t My son ! my son ! 
My beautiful \ my brave 1 how proud was I 
Of Ihee and of thy valour ! my fond heart 
Cerilow'd thiaday with transport, when I tliought 
Of growing old amidst a race of thine. 
Now all my hopes are dead I A little while 
Was I a wife 1 a mother not so long I 
What am I now 1—1 know— but I shall be 
That only whilst I please ; for such a son 
And such a husband drive me to my fate. 

[Exit, running. 



Though slain and baffled by (he hand be bated. 
Foammg wirh rage and fury to (he last. 
Cursing nis conqueror, the felon died. 
Re-enier Anna. 

Anna. My lord ! my lord I 

Ijord R. Speak : I can hear of honor. 

Anna. Horror, indeed! 

LordR. Matilda I 

She ran, she flew Uke lightning up the hill : 
Nor halted till the precipice she gain'd, 
Beneath whose lowering top the river lalls 
Ingulf d iu rifled recks : thither she came, 
As learleBB as the eagle lights upon it. 
And headlong down—— 

Lurd R. 'Twas I, alas ! 'twas I 
That fiU'd her breast with fury; drove her down 
Theprecipicpofdeatiil Wretch that I ami 

Anna. Uh. had vouseen her last despairing look I 
Upon the brink she stood, and cast bar eyes 
" 1 the deep ; then, lifting up her head 



And hcT white hands ti 



Lord R. Follow I 

foUow, 

But in this rage she 



, Anna: I myself would 

1st abhor my presence; 

[Exit Ank*. 
n, he eseap'd too well. 



seeming to say, 



Why am i forc'd to this T she plung'd herself 



Invait 



■orid I 






These wounds the gratitude of Randolph gave; 
They speak aloud, and with the voice of fete 
Denounce my doom. I am resolv'd. I'll go 
StrMght to the battle, where the man that makea 
Mc turn aside, most threaten worse than death. 
Thou, &ithful to thy mistress, take this ring. 
Pull warrant of my power. Let every rila 
With cost and pomp upon their funerals wait: 
For Randolph hopes he never shall return. 

[ The eurtaAn descends damly ta mwtit 



, Google 



THE INCONSTANT: 



THE WAY TO WIN HIM; 
A OOKEDT, 

IN FIVE ACT& 

BY GEORGE FARQUHAR, Es*. 



Uvely and entetla 
e look tho MM from 

CBtaslrnphe of the 


ast act, wher 

PiH.»diOO« 

IVaoce. wber 


REMARKS, 
Young Mirabel tsdoli^reafe 


on military ilutyin 
ieBoliber-lly«l!ow< 
beredwiUidelighl 


sBgceinthi 
re,byM.3.J 


play, and lomeimpi 
: it 18 slill, hiiifeve 



DRAMATIS PERSON*. 

COVENTGARDFN 1772 

Old Mirabel, Mr. fsiuler 

TOUNQ MlKABKL, Mr.SlBtlh 

DuRETBTB, Mr. Woodward. 

DoaAitD, Mr. Gardver 

pKTiT, ......*, 1*1, <>..•-.< t.*, -.,- Mr. Cu^ng 

Okiana, Mrs. Lettir^ham 

BlSARRK MisaMachlm 

IduoncE Mrt. Dyer 

Ladies, Gentlemen BrsToes, Soldiers, Setvanls i 



Mr DoKlon 
Mr EllialM. 
Mr Bamnsler 
Mr Holland 
Mr FfJter 



ACT I. 

SCENE I.—The Street. 

Enter Ducard and kh man Petit, in riding- 



•,n two this morning 
to Rousseau's, and bespeak a dinner at 
B head, tu be ready by one. 



Pet. How many will there be of you, Sir 7 

XHg. Let me see; Mirabel one, Duretele two, 
myself three 

Pet. And I four. 

Dvg. How now, Sir I at your old travelling 
femiliarity I When abroad, yon had eome freedom 
for want of belter company; i 



st di3[H)9e of him 



any; but, among my 

l?r fellow"s ^ 
nning for a 



h,l^,OOgLC 



THE INCONSTANT. 



171 



filter Old Mihjbei. and Obijna. 
hi. My brother I Welcome. 
hig. Monsieur Mirabel 1 I'ni heardly (daiS I 



of the MirahejB, I'm your most humble 

sign of aga but jour alver liai 

Old Mir. Silver hairs I Then they are quick- 
rilver haira, Sir. Whilst I have golden pockets, 
let my hairs be silver an they will. Adsbuci, Sir, 
I can danfe, and sing, and drink, and— no, I 
can't wench. But, Mr. Dugard, no news of my 
son Bob in all your travels? 

Bug. Your son 's come home. Sir, 

Old Mr. Come home I Bob come hmne ! By 
the blood of the Mirabels, Mr. Dugard, what say 
ye? 

OH. Mr. Mirabel retunieJ, Sir ? 

Dii^. He 'a certainly come, and you may se 
him within thia hour or two. 

Old Afif. Swear it, Mr. Dugani, present! 



Old Mir. What ! and he was ashamed to ask 
a blessing with his boots on. A nice dog ! Well, 
and bow &res the young rogue ? ha 1 

Dug. A line gentleman. Sir. He'li be his 
own messenger. 

Old Mr. A line gentleman ! But is the rogoe 



looia-d'or a head I 'tis ftnough to stock the whole 
nation with bastards; 'tis, feith. Mr. Dugaid, I 
leave you with your sister. [Exit. 

Dug. Well,, sister, I need not ask you how 
you do, your looks resolve ma; fiiir, tail, wel^ 
I shaped; you're almost grown out of my remem- 
brance. 

On. Why truly, brother, I look pretty well, 
thank nature and my toilet; I eat three meals a 
day, am very merry when np, and sleep soundly 
when I'm down. 

Dug. But, sister, you remember that upon my 
5 abroad you would choose this old gentle- 



o thmk you mistrusted n_^ 

your fortune ; therefore, pray be so kinS as to tell 
me, without reservation, the true cause of making 
such a choice. 

Ori. Lookye, brother, yon were going a ram- 
bling, and 'twas proper, lest I should go a rambling 
too, that somebody shoirid lake care of me. Old 
Monsieur Mirabel ia an honest gentleman, was 
father's friend, and has a young lady in thia 
ny I like, and who has chosen 



house whose i 



Itkem 



still 1 



Dug. Why yes, Sir; he's very like his mi 
ther, and as hke you as most modern sons are I 
their lathers. 

Old Mir. Why, Sir, don't you (hink that 
begat him? 

Diig. Why yes. Sir ; you married his mother, 
and he inherits your estate. He's very hke you, 
upon my word, 

Ori. And pray, brother, what 's become of his 
honest companion, Durelete 1 

Dug, Who, the captain 1 The very same he 
went abroad; he's the only Frenchman I 
knew that could not change. Your son, 
Mirabel, is more obliged to nature for Oiat fellow's 
compilation than for his own ; for he 's more 
happy in Duretete's foliy than his own wil. In 
short, they areas inseparable as finger and thumb ; 
but the first instance in the wprld, I believe, of 
Imposition in friendshb. 

OldAfiT. Very well: will he be home to din- 



mpany I like, ai 
him lor her guardian as well a; .. 

Du^. Who, Mademoiselle Bisarre 1 

On. The same; we live menily together, with- 
out scandal or reproach; we make much of th» 
old gentleman between us ; and he takes care of 
us; wa eat what we like, go to bed when we 
please, rise when we will, all the week we dancs 
and sing, and upon Sundays go first to church, 
and then to the play.— Now, brother, besidei 
these motives for choosing this ^tleman for my 
guardian, perhaps I had some private reasons. 

Dag. Not so private as you ims^no, sister: 
your love to young Mirabel is no secret, I can 
assure you; but so public that all your frienda an 
ashamed on't. 

Ori. O'myword, then my friends are very bash- 
ful; though I'm afraid, Sir, that those people a™ 
not ashamed enough at their own. crimes, who 
have so many blushes to spare for the feults of 

Dug, Ay but, sister, the people say 

Ori, Pshaw, hang the people; their court tf 
inquiryis a tavern, and theffinformerclaret; tbey 
think as they drink, and swallow .-^ — - •■<-. 



the glass, but her I 
Dag. Ay; but, 
Ori. IftliE- ■■■ 



IS lost in the toast. 



fe% 



dinner for us at Rousseau's, at a louis-d'or a 
head. 

Old Mir. A buis-d'or a head! Wall said, 
Bob ; by the biood of the Mirabels, Bob's im- 
proved. But Mr. Dugard, was it so civil of Bob 
to visit Monsieur Rousseau before his own 
natural father, ehl Harkye, Oriana, what think 
you now of a fellow that can eat and drink yd a 
whole iouis-d'or at a sitting? He must be as 
strong as Hercules, life and spirit in abundance. 
Before Giad, \ don't wonder at these men of 
quality, that their own wives can't serve 'em. A i 



', there is still something — 
be something, brother, 'tis non» 
id'T'intrckto'T^ ng, mamageismy ng, 
Dag. Marriage I Young Mirahle marry I HeTI 
buiki churches sooner. Take heed, sister, though 
your honour stAod proof to his home-bred assaulM, 
Fou must keep a stricter ^oard for the future; ha 
las now got the foreign air, and the Italian sofl- 
less ; his wit's improv^ by converse, his behavioui 
inished by observation, and his assurances con- 
(irmed by success. Sister, I can assure you ha 
has made his conquests; and 'tis a plague upon 
your sejc, to be the soonest deceived by those very 
— ia that you know have been &\se to others. 
Ori. For heaven's sake, brother, tell me no 
ire of his faults; for if you do, I shall run mad 
ftrhim: say no more. Sir; let me but get hinV 
into the bandsofmatrimony, I'll spoil his wandefi 
ing, I warrant him ; IT) lo his buariesa that way, 



, Google 



172 



THE INCONSTANT. 



Dxig. Well, siEter. I won't pretend to undoi 
atani] the engagements between vou and jou 
lover; I expect wien you have need of my council 
ra assistance, you will let me know more of your 
ai^rs. Mirabel ia a gentleman, and, as £ 
my honour and interest can reach, you may 
mand me to the furtherance of your happinea 
the meantime, sister, I have a great mind to make 
you a present oif another humhle servant ; a fellow 
that I took np at Lyons, who has served rno honest- 
iy ever since. 

Ori. Thenwhy will you part with him^ 
Duff. He has gained bo insuflerably on my 
good humour, that he 's grown too lamdiar ; but 

you in your afiair vnth Mirabel. Here he comes. 

Elder Petit. 
Well, Sir, have you been at Rousseau's * 

Pet. Yes, Sir, and who should I find there but 
Mr, Mirabel and the captain, hatching as warmly 
over a tub of ice, as two hen pheasants over a 
brood.— They would not let me bespeak any 
thing, for they had dined before I came. 

Dug. Come, Sir, you shall serve my sister ; I 
shall stil! continue kind to you — Wat 
lady home, PetU. 

Pet. A chair, a chair, a chair ! 

Ori. No, no, I'll walk home, '& but 



[E^ 



\B«t. 
SCENE II.— A TavBTTi. 

MiBAHEL and Dorbtete riseJYom the table, 

Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, my dear 
captain; we have eat heartily, drank roundly, 
paid plentifully, and let it go for once. 1 liked 
every thing but onr women, they looked so lean 
and tawdry, poor creatures ! 'Us a sure sign the 
army is not p^. — Give me the plump Venetiim, 
brisk and sanguine, that smiles upon me like the 
glowing sun, and meets my lips like sparkling 
wine, her person sinning as the glass, and spirit 
like the Ibaming liquor. 

Our. Ah, afirabel, Italy, I Brant you; but for 
our women here in Franco, tfiey are such thin 
brawn-fellen jades. 

Mir. There 's nothing on this side the Alps 
worth my humble service 'lye— Ha, JFomo la 
tanial Italy for ro^ money; Ih^r customs, ^ar^ 
dens, buildings, pdntmas, muaic, polices, wine, 
and women ! the paracfise of the world ; — not 
pestered with a parcel of precise old gouty feiiowa, 
that woiJd debar their children every pleasure 
that they themselves are past the sense of; com- 
mend me to the Italian iamiliaiitif ; Here, son, 
diere 's fifty cruvras ; go pay your ptl her week's 

iy, these are your fethen 
id the necessities of young 
our musty dads, who, becauae they cannot fish 
themselves, would muddy the water, and spoil the 
sport of them that can. But now you talk of the 
piump, what d'ye think ofaDutcbwomanl 

jffir. A Dutch woman's too compact; naj, 
eyeiy thing among them ia so; a Dutch man is 
thick, a Batch woman is squab, a Dutch horse is 
round, a Dutch aua is short, a Dutch ship is 
broad-bottomed; and, in short, one would swear 
the whole product of the countrj were cast in the 
rame mould with their cheeses. 

Dur. Ay, but, Mirabel, you have forgot the 
[English ladi»<. 



Mir. The « 



a of England were excellent. 



i made so inconiparal 
let us mind the business in hand; 
LUSt have, and must take up with 
the manufacture of the place, and upon a compe- 
tent diligence we shall lind those bi Paris shall 
match the Italians from top to t<>e. 

Dar. Ay, Mirabel, you will do well enough, 
but what will become of your friend? you know 
I am ao plaguy bashful, so naturally an ass upon 
these occasions, that — 

Mir. Pshaw you must be boWer man : travel 
three years, and bring home such a baby aa bash- 
ful ness ! A great lusty Mow! and a soldier! tia 

Dur. Lookye, Sir. I can visit, and I can ogls 
a little — as thus, or thus now — but if they chanca 
to ^vc me a forbidding look, aa some women, you 
know, have a devilish cast with their eyes— or if 
they CI7— what d'ye mean^ what d'ye take ma 
fori Fie, Sir, remember who 1 am Sir A 

ferson of quality to he used at this rate ! 'egad, 
m struck as flat as a flying pan. 
Mir. Words o'course 1 never mind 'em ; turn 
you about upon your heel with a jantee air ; hum 
--- -■- ^ -'■-" old song; cut across caper, and 



Dur. \lmilaies him.\ Wo hang it, IwiU never 
0. — OonB, what did my father mean by sticking 
le up in a university, or to think that I should 
ain any thing by my head, in a nation whose 

enius lies all in their heels 1 Well, if ever I 

_jme to have children of my own, they ahall hava 
the education of the country ; they shall learn to 
dance before they can walk, and be taught to sing 
before they can speak. 

iir. dome, come, throw off that childish hu- 

..._ it; pat on assurance, there 's no avoiding it; 

stand alt haiards, thou'rt a stout lusty fellow, and 

od estate ; look bluff. Hector, you have a 

good fflile-boi iace, a pretty impudent face; so, 

that's prettj well. — This iel'.ow went abroad like 

-1 01, and IS returned like an ass. [Aelde 

Dur. Let me see n'.w how I look. [Puiis 010 

poeket-glaee, and tanks on t<.] A sid&boJ 

:e, say you 1--'Kr,[J, I dont like it, Mirabel— 

Fie, Sir, don't at)\fe your fiiends. I coukl not 

wear such a fiioe x^f the best countess in Christen 



Odso, Mirabel, your lather 1 
Enter Oi-r. Mirjbei.. 
Old Mir. Where 's Bob 1 dear Bob % 
Mir. Your blessing. Sir, 

Old Mir. My blesangl Damn ye, ye young 
,jgne; why did not you come to see your &thei 
first, Sirrah' My dear boy, I am hfartily glad ta 
thee, ray dear child, feith— Captain Durelete, 
., the blood of the Mirabels, I'ra yours— well, my 
lai3s, ye look bravely, feith. — Bob, haat got any 
oneVleft? 

Mr. Not a farthing. Sir. 
Old Mr. Why, then, I wont gi' thee a sous. 
Mir. I did but jest, here's ten pistoles. 
Old Mir. Why, then here 'b ten more ; I low 
.. be charitable to those that don't want it;— 
Well, and how d'ye like Italy, my boys'! 



.i.= o;*^.OOglC 



THE INCONSTANT. 



173 



anh 

Old Mir. Ay, say yoa boI and they say, that 
Chbri is Tery tine iBa- 

Dur. Inclmbrent, Sir, very indiflerenl ; a very 
scurvy Mr; the most anwholesome to a French 
constitution in the world, 

Mir. Psliaw, nothius on't ; these raecatly gazet- 
teers have miranformed you. 

OW Mir. Misinlbrnied me ! Oona, Sir, wer 
not wa beaten Ihepel 

.Mr. Beaten, Sir, the French beaten ! 

Old Mir. Why, how was M, pray, sweet Sir ' 

Mir. Sir, the captain will teil you, 

Dar. No, Sir, your son will tell you. 

Mir, The captain was in the action, Sir. 

Dwr. Your son aaw more than I, Sir, for he 
was a looker on. 

Old Mir. Confound you both for a brace of 
oowards ; here are no Germans to overhear you ; 
why dont ye tall me iiom it was' 

Mir. "Wliy, then you must know, that 
marched up a body of the tineat, brKvest, v . 
dressed fellows in the universe ; our commanders 
M the head of us, all lace and foather, like so 
many beaUK at a WU — I don't beliovB there was a 
man of em but could dance a charmer, morhlcau. 

Old Mir. Dance 1 very well, pretty fellows, 
faith I 

Mir. We capered up to their very trenches, 
«]d there saw peeping over a parcel of scare- 
crow, oliveKioloured, gunpowder fellows, as ugly 
as the devil. 

Dar. 'Egad, I shall never forget llie looks of 
them while I have breath to fetch. 

Mir. Thsy were bo civil indeed as to welcome 
us with their cannon ; but for the rest, »e found 
them such unmannerly, rude, unsociable dogs, that 

we grew tired of their company, and so 

' ced back " -^- 



Old 

Mir. 
ihind. 



Mir. And did ye all come back ! 
No, two or three thousand of us stayed 



Old MiT. Why Bob, whyl 

Mir. Pshaw — because they could not come 
that night.— But come. Sir, we were talking of 
something else : pray how does your lovely charge, 
the fair Oriana ■> 

Old Mir. itipe. Sir, just ripe; you'll find it 
better engaging with her than with the Germans, 
let mc tell you. And what would you say, my 

S)ung Mare, if I had a Venus for thee tool come, 
ob, your apartment is ready, and pray let your 
friend be my guest too; you shall command (he 
house between ye, and I'll be as merry as the best 
of you, [Exeant. 

ACT II. 

SCENE /.—Old MmAEEi.'s House. 

Enter Oriaka and- Btssbrr. 

BiJi. And you love this young rake, d'ye'' 

Ori. Yes. 

Bit. In spite of all his ill usage! 
Or;, I can't help it. 
Bis. What'flthemalterwi'ye? 
OH. Pshaw I 

Bis. O, hang all your Casaandras and Cle»- 
patias for me. — Pr'ythee mind your airs, modes, 
i«id fashion* ; your stays, gowns, and feathers. 



Ori. Pr'ythee be quiet Bisarrei you know 
can be as mad as you when this Mirabel is otd 
of my head. 

Bis. I warrant now, you'll play the fool when 
he comes, and say you love him ; eh % 

Ori. Most certainly i~l can't disBemble, Bi- 
sarre: — besides, 'tis past that, we're contracted. 

Bis. ContrBelcdialack-a-day,poorthing. Whal 
you have changed rin^, or broken an old broad- 

Siece between you 1 "Well, I must confess, I do 
ive a little coquetting vrith all my heart I my 
business should be to break gold with my lover 
one hour, and crack my promise the nest; hs 
should find me one day with a prayer-book in my 
hand, and with a play-book annher; he should 
have my consent to buy the wedding-nng, and 
the next moment would laugh in his ^ce. 

Ori. O my dear, were there no greater tie upon 
my heart than there is upon my consdence, I 
would soon throw the contract out of doors ; but 
the mischief on't is, I am so fond of being tied 
that I'm forced to be juat, and the strength of my 
passion keens down the inclination of my sex. 
But here 's the old gentleman. 

Enter Old Mirabel. 
OldMh-. Where's my wenches 1 where 's my 
two bide girls, eh I have a care, look to your- 
selves, fdtl^ they're a coming, the travellers ara 
a coming. Well ! which of you two vrill be 
my daughter-in-law now 1 Bisarre, Bisarre, what 
say you, mad-cap % Mirabel is a pure wild fellow. 

Old Mir. You lie, hussy, you like him the 
better, indeed you do; what say you, my t'olhw 
little Filbert, etl 

Ori. I suppose the gentleman will choose for 
himself. Sir. 

Old Mir. Why, that 's discreetly said, and so 
he shall. 

Elder MiBABEL and DubbTBte, who salute tht 
Bob, harkyc, you shall marry one of these ^rls, 

Mir. Sir, I'll mairy 'em both, if you please. 

Bis. He'll find that one may serve his turn, 

[Aiide. 

Old Mir, Both ! Why, you young dog, d'y 
banter mel— J3ome, Sir, lake your choice.— 
Duretete, you shall have your choice too; but 
Robin shall choose first. Come, Sir, begin, 

MiT. Let me see. 

Old Mir. Well ! which d'ye like 1 

Mir. Both, 

Old Mir. But which will you naarry 1 

Aftr. Neither. 

Old 3Et. Neither — Don't make me angry, now, 

ab ; pray don't make me angry, — Lookye, Sirrah, 

I don't dance at your wedding to-morrow, I 
shall be very glad to cry at your grave. 

Mir. That^s a bull, father. 

Old Mir. Ahull! Why, how now, ungraln- 
ful Sir, did I make tJiee a man, that thou shouldst 
make me a beast 1 

Mir. Your pardon. Sir, I only meant yout 

Old Mir. Harkye, Bob, learn better manners 
your &ther before strangers : I wont be angry 
this time, — But, oons, if ever you do't it i^aiii, 
iscal, remember what I say, [Exit 

r. Pshaw, what does the old fellow oieap 



o;*^.OOglc 



174 



THE INCONSTANT. 



by mewing me np herewith a couple of peen 
giris'! Come, Duretete, will you go ? 

Ori, 1 hope, Mr. Mirabel, jou han't forgot — 

Mir. No, no, Madam, I han't forgot; 1 ha¥e 

brought JOU a Uiouaand little Italian curiusittes ; 

I'll asBure you, Madoni, aa &r aa a hunifoed 

pistoles wotild teach, I ha'n't forgot the^ least cir- 

Ori, Sir, you misundersland me. 

Mir. Odso, the relics, Maihi>a,lroift Rome. 1 
do remember now you made a vow of chastity be- 
fore my departure; a sow of chastity or something 
like it; Was it not, Mfidam % 

Ori. O, Sir, I'm answered at preseat. [Exit. 

Mir. She was coming Hill mouth upon me 
with her contract— WoliU ■ I might desmtoh 
t'other. [3tDuB. 

DitT. Mirabel — that lady there, (AServe her, 
she 's wondrous pretty, faith, and aeema to have 
but few words; I like her Hiainly; apeak to her, 
man, prNttiee apeafe to her. [Apart to MmiBEL. 

Mir, Madam, here's a gentleman^ who de- 

Dur. Madam, don't befiose him, I declare no- 
thins — Wiiat the deril do jou mean, man ? 
Mir. He says. Madam, that you are as beauti- 

Dur. He tella a damned lie, Madam ; I say no 
such thing; are yon mad, Mirabel 1 Why, 1 
shall drop down with shame. 

Afir. And bo. Madam, not doubtinn but your 
ladyship may like him as well aa he does you, 7 
think it proper to leave you together. 

(Going I DuK. holds him 
Dur. Hold, hold— Why, Mirabel, friend, sun 
w barbarous aa (o leave me alone ' 



Pr'ythee apeak to her for youiself. <» .i no.o. 
Lord, Lord, that a Frechman should want impu- 
dence I 

Mtr Youlookmightydemure, Madam— She's 
deaf, captain [Apari to Ddr 

Dur I had much rafber have her dumb 

[Apart 

Mir The gravity of vou* air. Madam, pro- 
miaea some eitrBordmary fruits from your study, 
which movrs us vnth cunoaity to inquire the subject 
of your ladyship's cOnEemplation Not a word ' 

Dar I hope in the Lord she 's Bpeechleaa , if 
she be she 'b mine this moment. — Mirabel, d'ye 
think a woman's silence can be nalural i — 

Bis But the forms that logicians introduce, 
and which proceed from aimple enomerahon, are 
dobitaHe, and proceed only upon admittance— 

JSr Hoity toity I what a plague have We here 1 
Plato m petticoats 

Dur. Ay, ay, let her go on, man , she talks in 
my own mother tongne. 

Sit. 'Tie eipos^ to invalidity from a con- 
tradictory instance, looks only upon common 
operations, and is infinite in ils termination. 

Mir. Bare pedantry. 

Our. Axioms! Axioms! Self evident princi- 



Duretetel Doat hear this starched piece of aus- 
mityl 

Dur, She's mine, man; she's mine: my owa 
talent to a T. I'll match her in dialects, taitb 
I was seven years at the nnisersit^ man. nursed 
up with Barbara, Celarunt, Darii, Ferto, Raralip- 
ton-. Did yon ever knew, man, that 'twas meta- 
physics made me an assi Itvras, feilb. Had 
she talked a word of singing, dandng, plays, 
foshions, or the hke, I had foundered at ^e first 
step ; but as she is— ^Mirabel, wish me joy. 

Mir. You don't mean matriagcy I hope 1 

Dwr. No, no, I am a man of more honour. 

Mr. Bravely resolved, captain; now for thy 
credit, warm me this frozen snow-hall, 'twill be a 
inquest above the Alps. 

Dm. But will you promise to be always near 



u shaUsi 



ST fear. 






ments mate an induction from my love to her 
hand, from her hand to her mouth, from hei 
mouth to her heart, and so conclude in her bed, 
cat^gorematice. [Exit. 

Mir. Now the game begins, and my fool is 



fashioned c 



II I b 



laed to death With this old- 

I should love her too, if I 

n way ; but shell do nothing 



Ori. Well, Sir, why do ye shun me f 
Mir. 'Tls my humour. Madam, and I'm na- 
turally swayed by inchnation. 

Ori. Have you forgot our contract, Sirl 
Mir All I remember of that contract is. that 
it was made some three years ago, and that '■ 
enough in conscience to forget the rest ont. 

On 'Tis aniScient, Sir, to recollect the pass- 
ing of It, for m that circumstance t presume lies 
the force of the obligation 

Mir Obligations, M-jdam, that are forced upon 
the will are no tie upon the conscience ; I was a 
passion when I passed the instrument ; 
>very of my freedom makes the contract 

Ori Come, Mr Mnabei, these eipreasions 1 
ijiKted from the raillery of vom- humour, but 

hope for verv diifercnt sentiments from yoai 
jnoui and nehProsity 

MiT Loot ye, M 

lach and sii horses, if you pleaae, only permit 

e to keep my honour to myself: for I can aaaure 

lu, Madam, that the thing called honour is a 

rcumslance absolutely unnecessary in a natural 

irrespondcnce between male and female ; and 

_3 's a nwdmail (iMt lays it ouf, considering its 

Bcardty, upon any such trivial occasions. There 's 

honour required of us by our friends, and honour 

due to our enemies, and they return it to us again ; 

but I never heard of a man that left but an inch 

of his honour in a woman's keeping, that could 

r get the least account on't.— Consider, Madam. 

. have no such Ihinff among ye. and 'tis ». 

n point of policy to keep no Mth with repro- 

•s — thon art a pretty liKle reprobate, and sv 

get thee about thy OHsinesa, 

Ori. Well. Sir, even aU this I will allow tj ths 



,/ Google 



THE INCONSTANT. 



EUety of yourtempei; yom travels haw improveJ 
nar talent of talking, butthej arc not offeree, I 
Bope, to impair your morals. 

Mir, Morals 1 Why there 'lis agm now— I 
Ull thee, child, there is not tho least occaaioa for 
morals in anjbuainesB between you and I — Don't 
you lEnon, tluit of all commerce m the norlil there 
^ no Buch cozenage and deceit as in the traflic 
between man and woman? We study all our 
lives long how ta put Iriebs upn one another— 
No fowler lays ab^d more nets for his game, nor 

y do you sit three 
hours at your toilette in a morning 1 only with 
villanous de^gn to make some poor fellow a fix., 
before night. What d'ye sigh for 1 What d'ye 
weep fori What d'ye pray fori Why, for a 
ha(*and. That is, you implore Provider 

BBsis) vou in the in— --^ -^- — '--■- — 

Ihew 



n your ellina about your 



Ori. O Sir, I shall match ye; a good husband 
makes a good wife at any ti 
Mr. ril rattle dowi 



On'. And I'll rat^e about the oily to ran vou 
in debt for more. 

Mir. I'll t(!ar the lace' off your clothes, and 
when yoU' swoon for Varation, you shan't have a 
penny to buy a bottle of hartshorn. 

Ori. And jou. Sir, shall have harlahom in 
abundance. 

many mistresses as I have 






it Madam, there is such a 



En proud of my power, and ai 



OH. Sir, I 
■olved to use i 

Mr, Hold, hold. Madam, not so fast— As you 
have variety of vaniljes to make coxcombs of us, 
EO we have vona, oaths, and jn'otistatinns, of all 
sorts and ^zes, (o make fools of you. And thia, 
in short, my dear creature^ is our ^sent condition. 
I have sworn and lied briskly to gain my ends of 
you ; yoor lad^ip has patdied and painted vio- 
lently to gain your ends of me. — But since we are 
both disappointed, let us make a drawn battle, and 
part clear on both «des. 

Ori. With al! my heart. Sir; 
contract, and I'll never see your 

Mir. Indeed I won't, child. 

Ori. What, Sir, neither do on 

Mr. No; you shall dio a n 
please to be othernise upon my i 

Ort. Sir, you're a— ^ 

Mir. What am I, liiiatress 1 

Ori. A villain. Sir! 






nor t'other 1 



St. r 



'ma 
myli 



:lacl 01 






vMy pretty dilemma 1 Ha, M, ha! thBpoor lady 
has made a vow of virginity, when ehe thought 
of making a vow for (he contrary. Was ever 
poor woman so cheated into chastity ? 

Ort. Sir, my fortune is equal to yours, my 
friends as powerful, and both shall be put to the 



lodon 



Mir. What 1 you'll force me t« marry you, will 

Ori. Sir, the law shall. 

Mir. But the law can't force me to do any 
liimg else, can it ? 

Ori. Pshaw, 1 desjrise thee — monster. 

Mir. Kiesandbefnendsthen— Don'tery,child, 
and you shall have your sugar-plum— Codh), Ma- 
dam, d'ye think I could be so unreasonable as to 
make you fast all your hie long t No, I did but 
jest, yon shad have your liberty ; here, lake your 

Ori. ko, 1 won't. 

Mir. Eh ! What, is the girl a fool ■? 

Ori. No, Sir, you shall find me cunning enou^ 
[odo myself justice; and since I must not depend 
apon your love, I'll be revenged, and force you to 
marry me out of spile. 

Mir, Thenl'll beatlheeoutofBpite;andmake 
a most confounded husband. 



have grooms. 



Enter Duretete and Petit. 

Dur, And she 's mighty peevish, you say 1 

Pet, O Sit, she has a tongue as long as my 

leg, and talks so crabbedly, you would ihink she 

always spoke Welsh. 

Dur. That 's an odd language methmis tor 
her philoaophy. 

Pet. But somelimes she wflf sit you half a day 
vrithout speakings word, aiMl talk oracles all the 
while by the wnnkles of her forehead, and the 
motions of her eyebrows. 
Dur. Nay, I shall match her in philosophical 
;les, ^ith ; that 's my lalenl : I can talk beat, you 
lust know, when I say noting. 
Pet. But d'ye ever laugh, Sirl 
Dur. Laugh? Won't she endure laughing? 
Pet, Why she 's a crWo, Su- ; she hales a jest,, 
>r fear it should please her ; and nothing keeps 
her in humour but what gives her the spleen. 

And then for logic, and all that, you know 

'^- - '.y, ay, I'm prepared: I have been 
hard words, and no sense, this hour, to 



practising as 



nher^. 



Dur. I long to engage her, lest I should forget 
my lesson. 

Pei. Here she comes, Su-, I musl flv, 
[Exit Petit; Ddretete stands f 



d the CI 



!s peeping 



Enter BisiSHE, iniih a book, and Miin. 
Bis. Pshaw, hang books, they sour our temper, 
fpoil OUT eyes, and ruin our complexions. 

[ "niToas aicay the book, 
DuT. Eli I the devil such a word there is ia all 
Aristotle. 

Bis. Come, wench, let's be free, cell in the 
fiddler, there ^s nobody near us. 
DuT. Would to the Lord there was not. 
Bis. Here, friend, a minuet ! — quicker time ; 
I — would vre had a man or two. 
Dur. [Steiding away.] You shall have the 
my dear dancing philosopher I 
my rifpT — ."Rpre's one. 



Bis. Od'smy life!— Here's 



[Pjills him back. 



ic.isdo/ Google 



THfi INCONSTANT. 



Dvx. Is all my learned pteparation coi 

Bis, Come, Sir, don't be ashamed, that . . _^ 
good boy — you're very welcome, we wanted aiich 
s one — Come, strike up. I know you dance well. 
Sir, You're finely shaped for't— Como, coine, Sir; 
quick, q^uick, you miss the time else. 

DuT. But, Madam, I come to talk with you. 

Bis, Ay, ay, talk as you dance, talk as you 
dance, come. 

DuT. But WB were talking of dialectics. 

Bis. Hang dialectics — Mind the time— qnick- 
OT, sirrah. [7^ the jiddler.] Come — and how 
d'ye find yourself now. Sir 1 

Dytr. tti a fine breathing sweat, doctor. 

Bis. All the better, patient, all the better^ 
Come, Sir, sing now, sing ; I know you sing well ; 
I EBB yoa have a singing fiice, a heavy, dull, 
■ouaCa face. 

DuT. Who, I sing % 

Bis. O, you're modest, Sir— but come, sit 
down ; closer, closer. — Here^ a bottle of wine — 
Come, Sir, fa, la, la ; sing, Sir. 

i>ur. Bui, Madam, I came to talk with you. 

Bie. O Sir, you shall drink first Come, fill 
me a bumper — here. Sir, blesa the king. 

Jhir. Would I were out of his dorainiona 1 By 
this light, she'll make mo drunk too. [Aeide. 

Bis. O pardon me, Sir, you shall do me right ; 
fill it higher.— Now, Sir, can you drink a health 
ander your legl 



Bis. Sir, your ii 
the greatest affront 



in of waiting oi 
nable, howe' 



. ... compliment ; youmsit, 
Sir, waa intended as a prologue to a vay scurvy 
plav, of which Mr. Mirabel and yea so haniisomely 
laid the plot.— " Marry ! No, no, I'm a manor 
more honour." TVhere's your honouil "Wliere'i 
your courage now t Ads my life. Sir, I have a 
great mind to kick jou. — Go, go to your fellow- 
rake now, rail at my sex, and get drank fat texa- 
Uon, and write a lampoon — But I must have yoo 
to know, Sir, that my reputation is above the 
scandal of a libel, my virtue is sufficienUy appro»- 
'' '" those whoBfl opinion is my interest: and, tor 
est, let them talk what they will ; for when 
ise, I'll he what I please, in spile of you and 
antind; and bo, my dear man of honour, if 
you be tired, con over this le^on, and ^t there 
-ill I come (o you. fRune off. 

Dar. Turn ti duni. [iffing's.] Ha, ha, ha I - 
Ads my Ufe, I have a great mind to kick you !" 
-Oons and confusion! ^Starts up.] Was evei 
lan so abused "> — Ay, Mirabel set me on. 
Re-enter Petit. 
Pet. Well, Sir, how d'ye find yourself! 
DuT. You son of a nine-eyed whore, d'ye come 
. _. o Tm Yv^ yon with a vengeance, 



you dog. 



[Pet 



s of, and DuB. afler him 






:like: 



e, Sirl 



Dar. 0, mighty well. Madam I 

Bis. You see how a woman's fancy varies ; 
sometimes splenetic and heavy, then gay and 
frolicsome, — And how d'ye hke the humour 1 

DuT. Good Madam, let me ait down to answer 
you, for I am heartily tired. 

Bis, Fie upan't : a young man, and tired t up, 
for shame, and walk about ; action becomes us — a 
litUe taster, Sit— What d'ye think now of my 
lady La Pale, and lady Coquet, the duke's fan 
daughter 1 Ha 1 Are they not brisk lasses 1 
Then there is black Mrs. Bellair, and brown 
Mrs. Bell&ce. 

Dar, They are all strangers to me. Madam. 

Bis. But let me tell you, Sir, that brown Is not 
always despicable. 

DuT. Upon my soul, I don't — 

Bis. And then you must have heard of the 
English beau, Spleenaraore, how unlike a gentle- 

Dar. Hey — not a syllable on't, as I hope to be 
aaved, Madam. 

Bis. No ! why then play me a jig. Come, Sir. 

DuT. By this light, I cannot; hith, Madam, I 
have sprained my l(^. 

Bis. Then sit you down, Sir : and now tell me 
what 's your business with me 1 What 's your 
errand] Q,uick, quick, despateh — Odso, may 
be you are some gentleman's servant, that hs^ 
brought me a letter, or a haunch of venison. 

Out. 'Sdeath ! Madam, do I look like a carrier t 

Bis. O, cry you mercy; T saw you jUst now, 
I mistook you, upon my word : you i 



SCENE/,- Tila same. 
Enter Old MmaBBr. and Mihabei.. 
Old Mr. Bob, come hither. Bob. 
Mir. Your pleasure. Sir? 
(Hd Mir. Are not you a great rogue, sirrah t 
Mir. That 's a little out of my comprehension, 
r ; for I've heard st|y that I resemble my &ther. 
Old Mir. Your fether is your very humble 
ive— ^I tell thee what, child, thou art a very 
. etty fellow, and I love Ihee heartily ; and a very 
great villain, and I hate thee mortallj, 

■"r, Villun, Sir ! Then I must be a very impu- 
ine, for I can't recollect any passage of my 
life that I'm ashamed of 

Old Mir. Come hither, my dear friend ; dost 
see this [acture 1 [Shows him a iillle picture. 

Mir. Oriana's ! Pshaw ! 

Old Mir. What Sir, won't you look upon 1 1 
-Boh, dear Bob, pr'yihee come hither now — 
Jost want any money, child 1 
Mir. No, Sir, 
Old Mir. Why then here 's some for thee ; 

ome here now How canst thou be so hanJ- 

hearted, an unnatural, unmannerly Fascal (don't 
mistake me, child, I an't angiy,) as to abuse this 

tender, lovely, good-naturd, dear rogue! 

Why, she aghs for thee, and cries for thee, pout» 

for thee^ and snubs for thee ; ^e poor little heart 

is like to buist- — ^ome. my dear hoy, be 

good-natured like your own fether, be now— and 

then see here, read this the effigies of thi 

lovely Oriana, with ten thousand pounds to het 

portion ten thousand pounds, you dog; ten 

thousand pounds, you rogue. How dare yoo 
refuse » lady with ten thousand pounds, you int. 
pndent rascal 1 

'"-. Will you hear me speak, Sir? 

IMir. Hearyou speak, Sic 1 Ifyouhadteo 



j.^t^iOOglC 



THE INCONSTANT. 



SEt. Nay, Sir, if you « 
3ne, Sir t I'll \ak.e poat lb 
' Old Mir. Ah ! tte felli 



I'll lake post for Italy 
__ r. Ah ! tte fellow kno ,.. . 

with him. [jlsufc.] Well, Sir, what have you to 

Mir. The uniTeraat reception, Sir, thi . 
riage hoa Imd in the world, is enough to lix it tor 
a public good, and to draw every body Into the 
common cause ; but there are bdihb cainstitutions 
tike some instruments, eo peculiarly singular, that 
they make tenible music by themHelves^ but never 

Old J\fiT. Why this is reason, I must confess ; 
but yet it is nonsense too : for though you should 
reason like an angel, if you argue yourself out of 
s good estate, you talk like a taoL 

Mir. But. Sir, if you bribe into bondage witb 
the riches of Croasus, you leave nie but a beggar 
for want of my liberty. 

Old Mir. Was ever such a perverse fool hBard? 
'Sdeath, Sir, why did I give you educaUon 1 was 
it to dispute me out of my senses 1 Of whnC 
colour now is the head of tins cane 1 You'll say 
tis white, and ten to one make me believe it too — 
I thought that young fellows studied to gel money. 

Mir. No, Sir, I Eive studied to deajnae it ; ray 
reading was not to make me rich, but happy. Sir. 

OldMiT. Thei-6 he has me agdn now. [Aside.] 
But, Sir, did not i marry to ohiiseyoul 

Mir. TooblJgeme.Sir! In wnatreapeot,pray1 

Old Mir. Wby, to bring yon into the world, 
Sir ; wa'n't that an oblieation 7 

Mir. And because I would have it still an 
ligation, I avoid marriage. 






irlw 



Old Mir. Lookye, friend, you may persuade 
me out of my designs, hut I'll command you out 
of yours ; and though you may convince my rea- 
son that you are in the right, yet there is an old 
attendant of sisty-lhree, called positiveness, whiidi 
you, nor all the wits in Italy, shall ever be able to 
^ake : bo, Sir, you're a wit, and I'm a ^tber ; you 
may talk, but Til be obeyed, 

Mr, This it is to have the son afiner gentleman 
than the father ; they Qrst give us breeding that 
(Jiey don't understand, then they turn us out of 
doors 'cause we are wiser than themselves. But 
I'm a Uttia aforehand with the old gentleman. 
[.i4eid5,] Sir, you have been pleaaed to settle a 
thousand pi,unds sterling a year upon me; in 
return of which, I have a very great honour for 
you and your ^mily, and shall take care that 
your only and beloved son shall do nothing to 
make him hal« his father, or to hang himself. 
So, dear Sir, I'm your very humble servant. 

[Runs off. 

Old Mir. Here, arrah, rogue. Bob, villain ! 
Enler DcoARD. 

Dug. Ah, Sir, tis but what he deserves. 

Old Mir. 'Tis false. Sir, he don't deserve it; 
what have you to say agdnst my boy, Sirl 

Dag. 1 shall only repeat your own words. 

Old Mir. What have you to do with my 
words 1 I have swallowed my words already, I 
have eaten thera up, and how can you come at 
'em. Sir 7 — 1 say that Bob 'b an honest fellow, and 
who dares deny it 1 

Vol. I. . . . Z 



Enler Bisahhe. 

Bis. That dare I, Sir — I say that your son is a 
wild, foppish, whimsical, impertinent coxcomb; 
and were I abused as this gentleman's sister is, I 
would make it an Itahan quarrel, and jiuison iW 
whole family. 

Dug. Come, Sir, 'tis no time for trifling ; my 
dster is abused, you are made sensible of tlie 
affmnt, and your honour is concerned to see her 
redressed. 

Old Mir. Lookye, Mr. Dugard, good words 
go forthest. 1 will do your sister justice, but it 
must be at^er my own rate ; nobody must abuse 
my son but myself For although Rotan be a sad 
dc^, yet he 'a nobody's puppy but my own. 

Sis. Ay, that 's my sweet-natured, kind old 
gentleman — [ Wheedling kirn.'] We will be good 
""-- 1. if you'll join with us in tlie plot 



Old Mir. Ah, you coaiing young baggage, 
what plot con you have to wheedle a felu^ of 
sixty-threi 



A plot that sixty-three is only good for, to 
bring other people twether, Sir: a Spanish Plot, 
less dangerous than that of dghty -eight ; and you 
must act the Spaniard, 'cause your son will leaat 
suspect you; and if he should, your authority 
protects you from a quarrel, to which Oriana is 
unwilling to eipoBe her brother. 

Old Mir, And what part will you act in the 
business. Madam 1 

Bis. Myself, Sir. My friend is grown a per- 
lect changeling ; these foolish hearts of ours spoil 
onr heads presently | the fellows no sooner turn 
knaves, but we turn fools. But I am still myself; 
and he may eipect the most severe usage from 
me, 'cause 1 neither love him nor hate him, [Exit. 

Old Mir. Well said, Mrs. Paradox ; but, Sir, 
who must open the matter to him 1 

Dag. Petit, Sir, who Is our engineer-general. 
And here he comes. 



Diig. Ay, ay, speak ireely. 

Pet. Yon must know. Sir Od's my life, 

m out of breath; you must know, Sir— you 



bid Mir. Secretary of slatel— who's that, for 

Pel. His valet-de-<;hambre. Sir! you must know, 
r, that the intrigue lay folded up with his mas- 
r's clothes; and when he went to dust the em- 
broidered suit, the secret Hew out of the right 
pocket of his coat, in a whole swarm of your 
crambo songs, short-footed odes, and long-legged 
Pindarics. 

Old Mir. Impossible t 

Pel. Ah, Sir, he has loved her all along ; there 

IS Oriana in every line, but he hates marriage. 

Now, Sir, this plot will stir up his jealousy, and 

ihall know by the strength of that how to 

u^d farther.— Come, Sir, let's about it with 

I, [Exeunt. 

Enter Mihsbel and Bisarkk, passing carelessly 

by one aiwtker. 



, Google 



178 



THE INCONSTANT. 



Mir. I wonder what my friend can see in thii 
girl io admire her ! [Aside 

Bis. A wild, foppish, eitravagant rake. 

{Aside 

Mir. A light, whimsical, impertinent madcap. 
[Aside 

Bis. Whom do you mean, Sirl 

Mir. Whom do you mean, Madaml 

Bis. A fellow tluit has nothing [eH to re-esta 
blish him for a human creature, hut a prudent 
resolution to hang himself. 

Mir. There is a way, Madam, to forte me 
that resolution. 

Bis. ni do it with all mj heart, 

Mir. Then you must marry me. 

Bis. Lookye, Sir, don't think your ill mann 
o me shall excuse your ill asageof my friend,! 
oy iixing a quarrel here, to divert my zeal for I 
awent; for Vm resolved, nay, I come prepared, ._ 
make yon a panegyric that shall mor^y your 
pride like aay modem dedication, 

Mir. Andl, Aladam, likeatruemodempatFon, 
shall hardly give you thanks for your trouble. 

Bis. Come, Sir, tolet you seewhatlittle founda- 
tion you have for your dear sufficiency, I'll take 
yOQ to pieces. 

Mir. And vthat piece will you choose 1 

Bis. Your heart, to be sure ; 'cause I should 
get presently rid on't ; your courage I would give 
to a Hector, your wit to a play-maker, your 
honour to an attorney, your body to the physicians, 
and your soul to its Master, 

3^. I had the oddest dream last night of the 
duchess of Burgundy; methoughl the furbelows 
of her gown were pinned up eotiigh behind, that 
I coulif not see her head for her ta3. 

Bis. The creature don't mind me I [Aside.'j 
Do you think, Sir, that your humourous imperti^ 
Hence can divert me 1 No, Sir, I'm above any 
pleasure that yon can give, but that of seeinc you 
miserable. And mark me, Sir, my friend, my 
injured friend, shall yet be doubly happy, and you 
slialt be a husband as much as the rites of marriage, 
and the breach of them, can make you. 

[MiHABEL pulls out a Virgil, and reatfo 



Mir. " Al regin: 



'.OS, (fuis faUere possil 



•n 



DitHmulBTe etiam sperasti, putjlde ionium," 
Very trae, 

" Posse i^/bs," 
By your favour, friend Virgil, 'twas but a ras- 
cally trick of your hero to forsake poor Pug so 
ilihumanly. 

Bis. Idon'lknowwhatlosaytohim. [Aside.l 
The devil what 's Virgil to us, Sir 1 

Mir. Very much, Maikm ; the most a-propos 
in the world— for what should I chop upon but 
the very pfac« where the perjured rogue of a lover 
and the forsaken !ady are battling it tooth and 
nail. Come, Madam, spend your spirits no longer ; 
we'll take an easier method; I'U be £neas now, 
and you shall be Dido, and we'll rail by book, 
")r you, Maciara Dido. 






Bis. A man! No, the woman's birth was 
spirited away. 
Mir. Right, right. Madam : the very words. 
Bis. And some pernicious elf lefl in the cradle, 
with human shape, to palliate growing mischief, 
[iS^aft iogeth^, and raise their voices by 
degrees 
Mur " Perjide, sed duria genuit te cautibus 

Caacas-aa, Hyreanague adnurrant Ubera Ti- 
gris 

Bis Go, Sir fly to your imdnight revels 

Mir Excellent I 

"Jsejutre Xtaliam venlis pete regna per 

^ero eqidem mediis, si quid pia Numina 
possuni " [Together again. 

Bis Now the devil take his impudence ! be 
vexes me so, I don t know whether to cry or laugh 
at him [Aside. 

SKr. Bravely performed, my dear Libyan. I'll 
write the tragedy of Dido, and you shall act the 
part^ but you do nothing at all, unless you fret 
yourself into a fit. for here the poor lady is stifled 
with vapours, drops into the arms of her maids ; 
and the cruel, barbarous, deceitfiil wanderer is in 
!ry neit line called pious jEneas. — There '» 
authority for ye. 



"Nee 



a dext. 



fjaon-dam, 

Nee moritKra tenet crudeUfanere Dido." 

Ah, poor Dido '. [Loo&a al her. 

Bis. Rudeness, aflronts, impatience! I could 
almost start out even to manhood, and want but a 
weapon as long as his to light him upon the spot. 
What shall (sayl [Aside. 



But Jaue himself, viks ne'er thought good 

7b jifay a second hovi, 
Commanda him i^uritk all Ms crew. 
And leaves poor Dv, as 1 leave aou. 

[Runs ofT. 
Bis. Go thy ways, for a dear, mad, deceitfiil, 
^reeable fellow. O'my consdence, I must excuse 

Thallovf 
Whose s 

eharws. 
Re-enter Petit, ioAo rune about to ecerj door, 

Pet. Mr, Mirabel t Sir, where are you 1 no- 
ihere to be found 1 

Re-enter MiH*BEt:. 

Mir. What 'e the matter, Petiti 

Pet. Most critically met Ah, Sir, that one 

Fho has followed the oamo so bug, and brought 
the poor hare just under his paws, should let a 
mongrel cur chop in, and run away with the puss. 

Mir. If your worship can get out of your alle- 
gories, be pleased to tell me in three words what 
you mean ! 

Pet. Plain, plain. Sir. Your mistress and 
mine is going to be married. 

Mir, t believe you lie, Sir, 

Pel. Your humble servant. Sir. [ Gotii*-. 

Mir. Come hither. Petit, Married, say voul 

Pet. No. Sir, 'tis no matter; I only thought to 
do you a service, but 1 shall take care how [ confer 
my lavourB for the future. 

Mir. Sir, I beg ten thousand pardons. 

Pet. 'Tis enough. Sir— I come to tell you Sir, 
that Oriana is this moment to be saciinced; 
married past redemption. 



ic.i,d=, Google 



THE INCONSTANT. 



179 



Mir. I understand her; slie'll take a. 
will Qiake him b 

rel. A lord, Sir. 

Afir. I'm hor U cljship's most humble aervant; 
a train and a title ; hey 1 Room for my lady's 
cuauh! B front rowintheboi for her ladyship i 
Lights, lights, for her honour! — Now must I lie 
a conatast aUender at my lard's levee, to work my 
way to my iady's couchee — a countess, 1 presume, 



unt. Sir, that Mr. Dugard 

\o Paris, saw your mistress 

s her to-day, and whips her into 



knew abroac 
yesterday, 

mr. ._ 

T the Fyrenoees t Had she marrieil within 
Ihe prednctsofa liillet-doui, 1 would be the man 
to lead her to church ; but, as it happens, I'll forbid 
the banns. Where is this mighty doni 

Pet. Have a care, Sir; he's a. rough, cross- 
sriuned]uece, anil there's no tampering with him, 
WoulJ you apply to Mr. Doeard, or the lady 
herself, Eomething might be done; for it is in 
despite to you t&t the business is carried so 
hastily. Odeo, Sir, here he comes. I must be 
gone. [Bxii, 

Re-enier Old Mirabel, dressed in a ^antsh 
habit, leading Oi 

OtI. Good, my lord, a nobler eboice hail better 
euited your lordship's merit. My person, rank, 
and circumstance expose me as the pubUc theme 
of raillery, and subject ma so to i ' ' 
my lord, Uiat I can lay no claim 
your regard, ei:ce[* yonr pity. 

Old Mir. Breathes he vital air, that dares pre- 

With riiile behaviour to profime such eicellence t 
Show me the man— — 
And you shall see how my sudden revenge 
Shall fall upon the head of sui^h presumption. 
Is Ihia thing one 1 [SlTu-ilivg up to Mirabel. 

Mr. Sirl 

Ori. Gfood, my lord. 

OtdMir. If he, or any he 

OH. Pray,niylord, thegentleman 'saatranger. 

Otd Mr. O, your pardon. Sir— but. if you 
tnd — mnember, Sir — the lady now is mine, her 
injorieB are mine ; therefore. Sir, you understand 
me-: — Come, Madam . 

[Leadt Obiana to the doori she ffoes off. 
Mirabel raaa to his f oilier^ a/ad -piSU 
Mm by the sleeve. 

Mir. Eaniles, Moasiear le Omnt. 

Old 3Sr. Your business, Sir 1 

Mr. E ■ 



.Old Mir. Wiiat d' 

Mir. This, Sir. ' [Tyipa np his keele. 

Old SBt. a very concise quarrel, truly 

I'll bully him. [Jstrfe.] Trinidade Seigneur, give 
UK fair play. [ Offers to rise. 

Mir. By all means. Sir. [rofteg away his 
Birorrf.] Now, Seigneur, where 's that bombast 
Icok atid flisUan face your countship wore just 
now! [Strikes kiai. 

Old Mir. Bnt hold, sirrah, no more jesting: 
her! 
ly this light I could 



find in my heart to pay thee, [Aside.] Is the 
fellow mad 1 Why sure, Sir, I ha'n't frighteneii 
you out of your senses 1 

Old Mir. Bnt you have. Sir. 

3Sr. Then I'll beat them into you again. 

[Offers to Ktrike him. 

Old Mir. Why, rogue— Bob, dear Bob, don't 
you know me, chill! 1 

Mir, Ua, ha, ha I the fellow 's downright ills- 
tracted! Thou miracle of impudence! wonklst 
thou make me beheve that such a grave gentle- 
man as my tather would go a masquerading thus 1 
Tiiat a person of threescore and three would run 
about in a fool's coat to disgrace himself and 
&inily 1 Why, you impudent villain, do you think 
1 will sutler such an aflront to pass upon my 
honoured fether, my worthy father, my deal 
father 1 'Sdeath, Sir, mention my &ther but once 
again, and I'll send your sold to thy granit&thel 
Ihia minute'! [Offers to stab him. 

Old Mir. Well, vi-el!, I am not your lather. 



Re-enter Ddgard, Obiana, and Petit; viith 

Maid. Duqard runs to MiHABer,, tlie rest to 

Old Mirabel. 

Dag. Tie, iie, Mirabel, murder your fether I 

Mir. My father! What, is the whole family 
maiJ 1 Give me way. Sir : I won't be held. 

Old Mir. No, nor I either ; let me be gone, 
pray. 

Mir. My father I [ Qfera to go. 

Old Mir. Ay, you dog's face! I am your fa- 
ther ; for I have bore as much for thee as your 
mother ever did. ' ■ 

Mir. O ho 1 then this was a trick it seems, a 
design, a contrivance, a stratagem— Oh I how my 

Old Mir. Your bones, sirrah ; why yours 1 

Mir. Why. Sir, ha'n't I been bealiug my own 
flesh and blood all this while Y O, Madam. [To 
Orlah*,] I wish your ladyship joy of your new 
d^nity. Here was a contrivance indeed. 

Pet. The contrivance was well enough, Sir; 
for tbey imposed upon us all. 

Mir, Well, my dear Duldnea, did your Don 
ftuisole battle for you bravely 1 My lather will 
answer for the force of my love. 

Ori. Pray, Sir, don't insult the misfortunes of 
your own creating. 

Ihiff. My prudence will be counted cowardice, 
■'latand tamely now. [Aside: Comes up between 
JiHABEO and his sister.] WeL, Sir ! 

Mir. Well, Sirl Do you lake me for oneof 
our tenants. Sir, that you put on your landlord 

Dvg. On what presumption, Sir, dare you as- 

ume thus 1. [brams. 

OldMir. What's that to you, Sirl [Draws. 

Pet Help! help! the lady feints. 

Mir. Vapours ! vapours t she'll come to herself 

r it be an angry fit, a dram of assafiElida— If 

jealousy, hartshorn in water— If the mother, burnt 

feathers — If grief; ratifia— If it be strut stays or 

I, there 's nothing like a dram of plain brandy. 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



THE INCONSTANT. 



[AC 



awnj would you cteiend my reputation, leave ,. ~ 
llaell; 'Tie a dear vindication that's purdiaBed 
Iw the ewon! ; for though our diampion proves 
victorious, yet ouc lionour is wounded. 

Oid Mir. Ay, and jour lover may be wounded, 
that 's another thing. Bat I thinlt you are pretty 
brisk again, my ohud. 

Ori. Ay, Sir, my indiapoation was only a pre- 
tence to divert the quarrel ; the capriaous laste r*^ 
your sex eicuaes this artifice in ours : 

For qften, v^ien mir chief ferffctions/ail, 

Our chief dejecta ailJifooliai men premU. 

Pel. Come, Mr. Ducard, take cournge ; there 
is a way still left to ietdi tuni again. 

Old Mir. Sir, I'll have no plot that has any 
(elation to Spain. 

.. Dug. I scorti all artifice whatsoever ; mysword 
sball do her justice. 

Pel. Pretty justice, truly! Suppose you run 
him through the body ; you run her through the 
heart at the same time. 

Old Mir. And me through the head — rot your 
SwonJ, Sir; we'll have plots; come, Petit, let's 

Pel. What if she pretended to go into a nun- 
nery, and so bring him about to declare himself' 
- Dug. That I must confesa has a &ce. 

Old Mir. A &ce ! A fitco like an angel. Sir. 
Ads my life. Sir, 'Tis the most fceautifui plot 
in Christendom. We'll about it immediatfiy. 

ACT IV. 

SCENE I— Old Mirabel's H™™. 
Enter Old MihsBel and Dugakd. 
Piig. The lady abbess is my relation, and privy 
io the plot. 

Old Mir. Ay, ay, this nunnery will bring him 
about, 1 warrant je. 

Enler Duretete. 
DuT. Here, whore are ye al! ?— O ! Mr. Mira- 
bel, you have done fine things for your posterity — 
And you, Mr, Dugard, maj come to answer 
this — I come to demand my fncndat your hands: 
restore hitn, Sir, or — 

[To Old Mirabel, 
OtdMh: Restore him! What, d'ye think I 
have got him in my tnmk, or my pocket 1 



when I begot him. 

Dug. Mad, Sir I what d'ye mean 1 

DvT. What do you mean. Sir, by shutting up 
jour sister yonder to talk like a parrot through a. 
cage 1 or a decoy duck, to draw others into the 
snarel Your son, Sir, because she has deserted 
him, has forsaken the wotkl ; and in three words. 

Old Mir. Hanged hime . .. 

Dor. The very same — turned frii 

Old Mr. You lie. Sir ; 'tis ten nmes worse. 
Bob turned friar !— Why should the fellow shave 
his foolish crown, vrheii the same razor may cut 
hia throat 1 

DiiT. if you have any command, or you any 
interest over him, lose not a minute ; he has thrown 
himself into tho next monastery, and has ordered 
me to pay ofT his servants, and discharge his 
equipage. 



Old Mir. Let me alone to ferret him out ; 11 
sacrifice the abbot, if he receives him | I'll try 
whether the spiritual or the natural father has the 

most light to the child. But, dear captain, 

wJiat has he done with his estate t 

Dur. Settled It uiion the church, Sir, 

Old Mir. The church 1 Nay, then the devil 
won't get him out of their dutches— Ten thou- 
sand iivres a year upon the church ! 'Tia down- 
right sacrilege— Come, gentleman, all hands to 
work ; for hsuf that sum, one of these monasteries 
shall protect you a traitor from the law, a rebellious 
wif^ from her husband, and a disobedient son 
from his own fether, [Exit. 

Dug. But will you persuade me that he 's gone 

Dur. Is your sister gone to the Pilles Repeo- 
tieal i tell you. Sir, sTie's not fit fijr the society 
of repenting maids. 

Dug. Why so, Sirl 

Our. Because she's neither one nor t'other; 
she's too old to be a maid, and too young Co 
/epenl. [ExeMiU, 



Ori. I hope, Eisarre, there is no harm in jest- 
ing with this religious habit 1 

Bis. To me, the greatest jest in the habit is 
taking it in earnest : 1 don't understand this im- 
prisoning people with tbo keys of paradise, not 
the merit of tlmt virtue which comes by constraint. 
But I must be gone upon tny alTairs ; J have 
brought my captain about agdn, 

Ori, But why will you trouble yourself with 
that coxcomb 'i 

Bis. Because heisacoxcomb; had 1 not better 
have a lover Uke him, that I can make an ass o^ 
than a lover like yoors, to make a fool of me. 
[Knocking beloie.]' A message from Mirabel, 111 
laymylile, [Ske nine to the di ' " 
run ; thou charming nun, come 

OH. What's the newel 

Bis. Don't you see who 's below 1 

Ori I see nobody but a ftiar. 

Bis. Ahl thou poor blind Cupid ! O 'my con- 
icienca. these hearts of ours spoil our heads in- 
ilantly 1 the felloviis no sooner turn kuavea than 
we turn fools. A fiiar I don't you see a villanooa 
genteel mien under that cloak of hypocrisy t 

Ori. As I five, Mirabel turned fnar! 1 hope in 

Bis In earnest; ha, ha, ha! are^ou in ear- 
sst^ JNow's your time; this disguise he has 
irtainly taken for a passport, to get in and try 
your resolutions ; stick to jonr habit, to be sure ; 
treat him with disdain, rather than anger: for 
pride becomes us more than passion ; remember 



B^.jCome 






Enter Mibabct. in a FViar'a haM. 
Mir. Save you, astor — Your brother, young 
lady, having a regard for vour soul's .health, hatn 
int me to prepare you {ot the sacred habit by 
onfession. 
Ori. Thai's false; the cloven foot already. 



o; *^.OOg IC 



THE INCONSTANT. 



[Aside.] My brother'B care I own; (tnd to you, 
■acted Sir, I confoEs, that the great crying sin 
whidi I have long indulged, and now prepare lo 

Mr. 'she's downright etark mad in earnest; 
death and wmfusion, 1 have lost her ! [Aside.] 
You confess your fault, Madam, in such moving 
terms that I could almost be in love with (he aa. 

Ors. Take care, Sir; crimes, like virtaee, are 
theh' own rewards : my chief delight hecame my 
only grief; he in whose breast I thought my heart 
secure, turned riAber, and despoiled the treasure 
that he kept. 

Miir. Perhaps that treasure he eateems so 
much, that, like the raiser, though afraid to use it, 
he reserves it safe. 

OH. No, holy father: who can be miaer m 
another's wealth, that 'b prodigal of his own 1 His 
heart was open, shared to all ha knew ; and what, 
alas I must then become of mine % but the aamn 
ejra that drew this passion in, shall send it eut in 
tears, lo which now hear my vow — 

Mir, [Dis«fP«riiig'fttmsei/]No,my^iangel, 
but let me repent : here on my knees, behold the 
criminal that vows repentance his.— Ha ! no con- 
cern upon hei 1 

Kitter Olb Mirabel. 

OldMiT. Where, where'sthiscounterfeitnun'? 

OH. Madneaa I confusion ! I'm ruined ! 

JHiT. What do I hear 1 [Puts on his hood.] 
What did you say, Sir 1 

Old 3!(ir. 1 say she 'a a counterfeit, and you 
may be another, for aught I know. Sir ; I hate 
kwt my child by these tricks. Sir. 

Mir. What tricks, Sir? 

CHd Mir. By a pretended trick. Sir. A con- 
trivance to bring mj son to reason, and it has 
made him stark mad; I have lost hun and a 
thousand pounds a year. 

Mir. {DiicovBnng himself.] My dear fethar, 
I'm your most hnmfie 

OldM " ' 



Old Mir, The devil a bit. 
Mir. Then thank ye, my dear dad, for (he 
most happy news— And now, most venerable holy 



Lookye, my dear counterfeiting nun, ta3[6 ray 
advice, be a nun in good earnest; women make 
the best nuns always when they can't do other- 

Ori, O! Sir, how, unhappily have you de- 
atroyoe! what was so near perfection! He is the 
counterfeit that has deceived jrou. 

Old Mir. Ha! Lookye, Sir, I recant, she is a 

. Mir, Sir, your humble servant, then I'm a friar 
Uiis moment. 

Old Mir. Was ever an old fool so bantered by 
a brace o' young onea; hang you botji, you re 
both counterfeits, and my plot's spoiled, that s all. 

Ori. Shame and confusion, love, anger, and 
disappointment, will work my brain to nfidiif- 



[Exil. 



Mir. Ay, ay, throw by the rags, they h 



ml, and mUing to make ■ 



served a turn for us both, and they shall e' 
off together. 

[Exil, throwing away the 

SCENE ///- Old Mirabel's Housi 
Enter Duretete, vith a letter, 
Eeadg.J Mi 

&al I oum iitgseif pe ,_ 

reparoHon upon m^r first appeat . 

'^ ' •' BlSARRt 

Mirabel swears she loves me, and this confirms 
it ; then &rewcll gallantry, and welcome revenge ; 
'tis my torn now lo be upon the sublime ; 111 take 
her off, I vaarrant her. 



DuT. Of what ■? of a dandng devil 1— Do yoo 
love me, I say 1 

Bis. PerMps ( 

Dur, What? 

Bis. Perhaps, I do not. 

Dur. Ha ! abused again ! Death, woman, I'U- 

Bis. HoW, hold, Sir ; 1 do. 1 do ! 

Du.r. Confirm it then by your obedience ; stand 
there, and ogle me now, as if your heart, blood, 
and soul, were like lo fly out at your eyes— Fust, 
Uie direct surprise. [&ie looks /'dl vpon him.] 
Right; next ihe deux yentx par oblique. [She 
gives him the side glante,] Right; now depart 
and languish, [^le turns from him and looks 
over her shoaider.] Very well ; now sigh. [She 
sighs.] Now drop your fan on purpose. [5*= 
drops ^r /nit.] Now take it up again: Come 
now, confess your faults ; are you not a proud — 

Bis, Proud. 

Dur, Impertinent. 

Bis. Impertinent. 

Dur. Ridiculous. 

Bis. Ridiculous. 

Dur. Flirt. 

BiJi, Puppy. 

DuT. ZoonsI woman, don't provoke me; we 
are alone, and you don't know but the devil may 
(empt me to do you a nuechief ; ask my pardon 
iraniedialely. 

Bis. I do. Sir ; I only mistook the word, 

Dur. Cry then ; have you got e'er a handker- 
chief? 

.Bis, Yes, Sir, 

Dur, Cry, then, handsomely ; cry like a queen 

[She pretends to cry, bursts ottt a laughing. 
Enter six Ladies, laughing. 

Bis, Ha, ha, ha '. 

Ladies. Ha, ha, ha! 

Dur. Hell broke loose upon ine, and all ths 
fiiries fluttered about my ears t Betrayed agdn ! 

Bis. That you are, upon my word, my dear 
captain ; ha, ha, ha ! 

D«r, The Lord deliver me I 

1 Lady. What ! is this Ihe mighty man with 
the bull&ce, that comes lo frighten ladies ! 

Bis. A man! It's some great dairy-lliaid in 
man's clolhes. 

Dur, Lookye, dear Christian women, pray hear 



, Google 



THE INCONSTANT. 



Ihir. If you please to lei me gf 

honour, I'll do any thing in the v 

Bis. "Will you persuade yoat 

DuT, O yes, to he sure. 

.Bis. Ad3 will you do the sami 

Dm-. Burn me if I do, if the a 



iway with my 



m 



Enter MiRsBBL ajid Old Mir*eei.. 

aUr. Your patience, Sir. I tell you I wo 
mairy ; and though you send all the bishops 
Prance U> persuade me, I shall never believe th 
doctrine against their practice. You nould co 
pel me to that state, which I have heard you uu 
yourself^ when my Tnother and you have battled 
tl for a whole week together. 

Old Mir, Never but once, you rogue, and (hat 
was when she longed for sii; Flanders marea : ay. 
Sir, then she was hreeding of you, which showed 
what an expensive clog I should have of you. 

Enter Petit. 
Well, Petit, how does she now » 

Pet, Mad, Sir, eon pompos— Ay, Mr. Mirabe 
jooll believe that I speali truth now, when 
GonlesE that I have told you hitherto nothing bi 
lies;' our jesting is come lo a sad earnest, she 
downright distracted. 

Re-enter BiaiBBE. 

Bis. Where is this might}; victor'!— The great 
eiploit is done j go triumph in the glory of your 
conquest, inhuman, liarbarous man ! O Sir, [T^ 
Old MiHABEL.] your wretched ward has found 
tender guardian of you; where her young innc 
eence expected protection, here has she found her 

Old Mir, Ay, the (ault is imne ; for I believe 
that rogue wont marry, for fear of begetting such 
another disobedient son as hia father did. I have 
done all I can. Madam, and now can do no more 
than run mad for company. [Cries. 

Enter Dbqahd, icitli kis sviord drawn. 

Dug. Away I Revenge, revenge. 

Old Mir, Pafjenco, patience, ^r. [Old Mira- 
bel halds him.] Bob^ draw. [Aside. 

Dug. Patience! The coward's virtue, and the 
brave man's foiling, when thus provoked — Villain ! 

Mir. Your si^r's frenzy shall eicuse your 
madness ; and to show my concern for what she 
sufiers, I'll bear the villun from her brother. — 
Put up your anger vrith your sword ; I have a 
heart like yours, 5iat swells at an aflront received, 
but melts at an injury given; and if the lovely 
Oriana'a grief be such a moving, scene, 'twill find 
a part wiUiin this breast, perhaps as tender as a 
brother's. 

Dug. To prove that soft compassion for her 
grief, endeavour to remove it.— There, there, 
behcrfd nn object (hat 's infective ; I cannot view 
her, but 1 am as mad as she. 

Elder Ohiana ; they place her in a chair, 
A sister that my dying parents left with their last 
words and blessing to my care. Sister, dearest 



OUM 



. Ay, poor child, poor child,d'ye know 



Ori. Youl you are Amadis de Gaul, Sir;- 
Oh ! oh my heart I Were you never in love, &ir 
lady^ And do you never dream of flowers and 
gardens 1 — I dream of walking fires, and tall 
gigantic sights. Take heed, it conies now — 
What 's that 1 Pray stand away : I have s»n 
that face sure^How light my head is ! 

,,. ,^.....,....1.._.L._... . . . ., 

, . a Uttle. 
i; jiui 1 ijjuaL uD up to go to church, 
s me. pnt on nw new gown, and 

, . ...eet my love. Hey, ho! Will 

not you If 11 me where m^ heart lies buried 1 
Mir, My very aonl is touched — Your hand, 

Ori. How soft and gentle you feel 1 I'll loll 
you your fortune, friend, 

Mir, How she stares upon me I 
Ori. You have o flattering jace; but 'tis a fins 
one — I warrant you have fivehiuldiedmistresaeB — 
Ay, to be sure, a mistress for every guinea in his 
pocket — Will yon pray for mel I shall die li>- 
morrow — And will you ring my pasMng-bell 7 
Mir, Doyouknowme, injured creaturel 
Ori. No, — but you shall be my intimate ac- 
quaintance — in the grave. [ Weeps. 
Mir, O tears, i must believe yon ; sure there 'a 
a kind of sympathy in madness; for even I, obdu- 
rate as I am, do foci my soul so tossed with storms 
of passion, that I could cry for help as well as she, 
■ Wipes kis evea. 
■ "No, 



I. Let her alone, Sir, lis all too late ; sha 
s, hold ber; her iits erow stronger by hel 



talking ; don't trouble her, si 



Re-enter DmtBTETB. 
-. Where are you aU 1 What the devfl ! 



Mir. Away with this impertinence ; this is no 
ilace for bagatelle ; I have murdered my honour, 
lestroyed a lady, and my desire of reputation is 
vme at length too late ; see there. 
Bur. What ails her 1 
Mir. Alas! she's mad. 

Out. Mad! dost wonder at thatl By this 
light, they're aU so; they're coiening mad ; they're 
brawling mad; Uiey're proud mad; I just now 
'',ame from a whole world of mad women, that had 
ilmost— What, is she dead 1 
Mir. Dead ! heavens forbid. 
Dw. Heavens further it ; for 'till they be ns 
!oId as a key, there 's no trusting them j you're 

lailed in her coffin. Shall 1 talk lo herl Are 

Bis, What's that to you. Sir 1 
Dur, Oons, Madam, are you there'! 

[Exit, ranning 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



THE INCONSTANT. 



Mir, Awa;^, thon wild bufibon ; how poor and 
mean thia humour now appears 1 His follies and 
my own I hei^ disclaim; thia lady's I'lenxy has 
restored my senses, and was she pBrfect dow, bs 
once she was, (before jou all 1 speak it.) sbo 
should lie miue ; and as she is, my tears aJid 
prayers shall wed her. 

Dug. How happy had this declaration been 

Bii. Sir, she bedtons to you, and waves ua to 
go ott; come, come, let's leave 'em. 

[Exeuni all bal MiR. and Obi. 

Ori Oh, Sir. 

A&r, Speak, my charming angel, if your dear 
senses hais regained their order ; speak, fiiir, and 
bless me with the news, 

Ori. First, let me bleas the cunning of my sei, 
and that happy counterfeited freniy that has re- 
stored to my poor labouring breast the dearest, 
best beloved, of inen, 

Mir. Tune, all ye spheres, your instruments 
of joy, and carry round your spadous orbs the 
happy sound of Oriana's health; her soul, whoso 
harmony was next to yours, is now in tune again; 
the counterfeiting fair has played the fool. 



BtUnc 



uebotkai 



U, and baa m 



on. How, Sir, free 1 

Mir. As air, my dear bedlamite; what, marry 
a Innaticl Lookye, my dear, you have eounter- 
^ted madness so yeiy well thia bout, that you'll 
be apt to play the fool all your Ufe long. 5Iere, 

Ori. Monster ! you won't disgrace me 1 
Mir, O'my &ith, but I will; here, come in, 
gentlcmen.^ — A tniraclel amiracle! the woman's 
le devil's vanished. 



Re-enier Old Mirabel and Duoahd. 

Old Mir. Bless us, was she poaseaaed'! 

Mir. With the worst of demons. Sir, a mar- 
riago-devil, a horruJ devil. Mr. Dugard, don't 
be surprised, I promised m^ endeavours to cure 
your sister; nomad doctor m Christendom coutd 
have done it more eSectually- Take her into 
your charge ; and have a care she don't relapse ; 
if she should, employ me not again, for I am no 
more in^lhble than others of the faculty; I do 

Ori. Your remedy, most barbarous man, will 
prove the greatest poison of my health ; for though 
my former frenzy was but counterfeit, I now shall 
Ian into a real madness, 

[Exil ! Old MtRiBsi^Jbllows, 

Dug. This vras a turn bpyond my knowledge. 
I'm BO confused, I know not how to resent it, 

[Exit. 

■Mir. What a dangerous preoi[rioe Mve I 
'scaped ! Was not I just now on the brink of 
destructton 1 

Enter DcRETETE, 
Oh, my friend, let me run into thy bosom ; no 
lark, escaped from the devouring pounces of a 
hawk, quakes with more dismal apprehenaoii, 

Dur. The matter, man I 

Mir. Marriage, hanging; I waa just at the 

gallows' foot, the runnmg '■"■■' — ■ ""''' 

and the cart wheeling from 



-self this 



1 again. 



— Oh — I shan't be 



Dur. With all my heart, I'll bear thee con. 
pnny, mv lad ; I'll meet you at the play ; and we'll 
set out Jor Italy to-morrow morning. 

Mir. A match ; I'll go pay my compliment o 
leave to my fether presently. . 

Dur. I'm afraid he'll stop you. 

Mir. What, pretend a command over me after 
hia settlement of a thousand punds a year upon 
me 3 No, no, he has passed away his autboritjf 
with the conveyance; the will of a living fafher la 
chiefly obeyed for the sake of the dying one. 

[Exeuni. 

ACT V, 
SCENE I.— A Street before the Play-house, 

Enter Mirabel and Durgtkte, as coming from 
the play. 

Dur. How d'ye like thb play 1 

Mir, 1 liked the company; the lady, the rich 
beauty in the front boi:, had my attention. These 
jmpadent poets bring the ladies ti^ether to sup- 
port them, and to kill every body effic. 



Dur. Hoity-toity; did Phillis i 



allth 



with 



oes more; the play-houae is the 
element of poetiy, because the region of beauty; 
the ladies, methinks, have a more inspiring tii- 
unipbant air in the bales than any where else : 
they sit commanding on their thrones tvith all 
their subject slaves about them: their best clotlies, 
best looks, shining jewels, sparitUng eyes, the trea- 
sure of the world m a ring. I could wish that my 
whole life Ions were the first night of a new (day. 

Dar, The fellow has quite hrgat his Journey. 
[A^de.] Have you bespoke post horses 1 

Mir. Grant me but three days, dear Captain, 
one to discover the lady, one to unfold myself, and 
one to make mo happy ; and then I'm yours to 
the world's end, 

Dur. Hast thou the unpndence lo promise thy- 
self a lady of her figure and quaiilj in so short i' 






lel 

■"■ Yes, Sir— I bate a confident address m 

able person, and five hundred loutsd'or 

my pocket. 



DuT. Five hundred louisd'ors I Yonan'tmad! 

Mir. I tell you she 's worth five thousand ; one 
of her black brilliant eyes ia worth a diamond as 
big as her head. I compared her necklace witli 
her looks, and the living jewels out-sparkled the 
dead one by a million, 

Dur. But you have owned to me, that abating 
Oriana's pretensions lo marriage, you loved her 
passionately; then how can you wander at thin 

Mir, i iongi 
ting's plate ; o . , , _ 

have it, I must. eat nothing 1 
Enter OruNa in Boi/i dotlies, vnlh a kite* 

Ori. Is your name Mbabel, Sir % 

Mir. Yes, Sir. 



,stsd by Google 



184 



THE INCONSTANT. 



[AO 



i, A letl«c froD 



ment: t 



11 your uncle in Pkiirdy. 

[Gives the Utter. 
Mir. [Reads.] Tke bearer is tfie son y o Pro- 
testant gentleman, tnho, .flying for his religion, 

left rue the charge of this youth. A prettj 

j^J^ ^^ '* ■^'^ if ^""^ handsome service. 

afford him opportunity of improve- 
„ ir care of him iBill obUgc, Yours. 
•ioo. a mind to travel, child 1 

Orj. 'Tia my desire, air; I should be pleased 
to sfiTO a traveller in any oapscity, 

Mir. A hopeful inclination ; you sliall along 
with iDe into Italy as my page. 

Dur, 1 don't thinit it safe: the rogue's [Noist 

vithmtll] too handsome The play 's done, and 

borne of the tadiea come this way. 

Enter Lamokcb, wftft her train borne uj 
by a PaOB. 



Dur. And what then . 
■Mir, Why 'lis she. 

Ihtr. And what then, Sill 

Mir. Then! Why! Loofcye, sirrah, the 

first piece of service 1 put upon yon, is to f " 
low that lady's coach, anil brmg me word whf 
■he lives. ['Tli Oriap 

Oft. I don't know the town, Sir, and am afraid 
of losing myself. 

ABr. Pshaw! 

Lam. Page, what's become of ail my people' 

Page. 1 can't tell. Madam ; I can see no ag 
irf your ladyship's coach. 

Lara. That fellow is got into his old prankg, 

and faJlen drunli soraem " ' " ' 

men there? 

Page. Not one, Madam. 



I. These 



e the plague of our 



iiuvi', Duretete, Gir a piece of gallantry. 

Our. Why. you won't sure? 

Mir. Won't, brute! Lot not your servBnla' 
neglectj Madam, put your ladyship to any in- 
convenience, for you can't be disappointed of an 
equipage whilst mine wails below; and would 
jou honour the master so far, he would be proud 
to pay his attendance. 

DuT. Ay, to be sure. [Aside. 

Lain, Sir, I won't presume to lie troublesome, 
folT my habitation is a great way off 

Dnr, Very true. Madam and he 's a little en- 
gaged ; besides. Madam, a hackney-coacb will do 
as well, Madam. 

Mir. Rude beast, he quiet ! [To Ddretete.] 
The further from home. Madam, the more oc- 
casion JOU have for a guard— pray, Miulam 

Lam. Lard, Sir — [Ske declines his entreaties, 

Dur. Ah! the devil's in his impudence; now 
he wheedles, she smiles ; he Qatters, bIid simpers ; 
he swears, she believes ; he 's a rogue, and she 's 
a w in a moment. [Aside. 

Mir. Without there I my coach ; Duretete, 
wish me jiy, [Hands the lady out. 

Dur. Wish you safe home ! Here, jou Uttle 
Picard, go follow your master, and hell lead you— 

Ori. Whither, Sir 1 

Dur. To the academy, child : 'tis the feshion, 
with men of quality, to leacli their pages their 
niercise— go, 

OH. Won't you go with him too, Sir? that 
woman may do him some harm I don't like her. 



Dur. Why, how now, Mr. Page, do you start 
up to give laws of a sudden? do you pretend to 
rise at court, and disapprove the jSeasure of your 
betters^ LooSye, sirrah, if ever you would rise by 
a great man, be sure to be with liim in his little 
actions: and, as a step to your advancement, follow 
your master immediately, and make it your hope 
that he goes to a bagnio. 

Ori. Heavens forMd I 

Dur. Now would I sooner — 

pany of the hangman, than a coach with that 
woman : what a strange antipathy have 1 taken 
against these creatures ; a woman to me is aversion 
of mutton, 



[Exa 



SCENE U. —A Mindsome Apartment 

Enter Mirabel and Lamokce. 

Lam. To convince oie, that your service wap 

something more than good breeding, please to laj 

out an hour of your company upon my desire, as 

you have already upon my necessity. 

Mir. Your desire, Madam, has only prevented 
my request: my hours! make 'em yours, Madam, 
eleven, twelve, one, two, three, and all that belong 
to those happy minutes. 

Lam. Bull must trouble you. Sir, to dismiss 
your retinae, because an equipage at my door, 
"'■■ '■ eof night, will not be consistent with my 

y all means, Madam, all bat one little 
boy—fiete, page, order my coach and servants 
home, and do you stay ; 'tis a tooiish country boy, 
that knows nothing but iimocence. 

Lam. Innocenea, Sir? I should ho sorry if 
>u made any sinister constructions of my freedom. 
Mir, O Madam, I must nol pretend to remark 
ny body's freedom, having so entirely 



forfeited 

I^m. W ell, t 
ij correspondf 



venient towards our 
entered into a free 
confidencB of each other, by mutual declaration of 
what we are, and what we think of one another. — 
ow, Sir, what are you 1 

Mir, In three worils, Madam 1 am a gentle- 
hundred pounds in my pocket, 






I shirt 01 



Lam. And your name is 

Mir. Mustapha. Now, Madam, the inven- 
tory of your fortunes. 

' 1. Mj name is Lamorce ; my birtli noble ; 
married young, to a proud, rude, eullon, 

I took 



jv. got avira' 



■TSa, 



heart, lef^>ed out of a window 
friends, sued my tyrant, and reca 
I Kved from fifteen to twenty to 

wenty to forty I'm resolved to please mpelf, 
and from thence upwards I'll humour the world. 

JWtr. Ha, ha, ha ! I rejoice in your good forluiw . 
with all mr heart. 

Lam. O, now I think on't, Mr. Mustapha, 

Eon have got the finest ring there, 1 could scarcely 
eUeve it right \ pray let me see it, 
Mir, Hum ! Yes, Madam, 'tis, 'tis right — but, 
It, but, but, but it was given me by my mother, 
1 old ftmily ring. Madam, an old-fashioned &mily 
ng. 

Lam. Ay, Sir — If you can entertain youraeli 
for a moment, I'll waif on you immediatelv. 

■ [Exit. 



.1.,,,^'Oogn: 



BIO.] 



THE INCONSTANT. 



Mir, Certainly the stars were in a strange in- 
Iriguing tumour when I was bom — Ay, this 
night should 1 have liad a bride in my armu, and 
that I should like well eno^h : hut what ghould I 
have tji-moriow night 1 The same. And what 
next nigbtl The same. And what next night ? 
The very same. Soup for breakiiiBt, soup for din- 
ner, soup for supper, and soupforlireaklast again — 
But here 's variety. [Runs (ojoorrfs the door. 

Enter fmiT Bhavoes v>Uh Lamorcb, Mirabel 



She comes, she comes— Hum, hum — Bitch- 

Murrlered, murdered, to be sure! The carsed 

I To make me send away my 

Becut-lhroats alwaysmake 



Nobody II 

Buro work. What shall I do7 I havt 

way. [Aside.] Are these gentlemen your relations, 



1. Yes, Sic. 
r. Gentlemen, your most hi 
I, your most faithful ; yours, S 



it humble serva 
oir, your most taitwul; yours. Sir, with all my 
heart; your most obedient^— come, gentlemen. 
[SakUes aU, taand.] Please to ^t — no 
next the lady, pray, "■- 



life ; I Buppi 



le lady, pray, Sir. [AU sit. 

1, Well, Sir, and how d'ye hhe my friends 1 
O Madam, the most finished gentlemen ! 



1 Bra. Yes, Sir. 



MJ gentlen 

nore happy in good company '" 



-. Which way, may I presume % 

1 i^ra. In a western barge, Sir. ^ 
Mir. Ha, ha, haJ verypretty; facetious, pretty. 

gentleman 1 

Lam. Ha, ha, ha I Sir, you have got the 
prettiest ring upon your finger th< 

Mr. Ah! fl?--'— '^ 

my heart. 

Lam. By no means, Bir, a lamily nng I 

[Takes it. 

Mir. No matter, Madam. Seven hundred 
pounds, by this light [Aside 

2 Bra. Pray, Sr, what 's o'clock 1 

Mir. Hum! Sir, I have left my watch at home. 
2 Bra. I thought I saw the string of it just 

m.T. OA's my Ufa, Sir, I beg your pardon ; here 
it is — but it don't go. [Pvts it up. 

Lam. O dear, Sir, an English watch ; Tom- 
laon's, I presume. 

MiT. D'ye hke it, Madam? — no ceremony— 
'tis at your service, with aU my heart and soul — 
Tompion'a ! Hang ye. [Aside. 

1 Bra. But, Sir, above all things, I admire the 
&shion and make of your snord- hilt. 

URt. I'm mighty glad you like it. Sir. 

1 Bra. Will you j>art with it, Sir 1 



1, Not sell it, Sir f 



■■. No, g 



—but ril bestt 



[Q^rs it. 

1 Bra. O, Sir, we rob you. 

Mir. That you do, FlI be sworn. \ABide.\ I 
have another at home, pray. Sir — Gentlemen, 
you're too modest; have I any thing else that you 
fency ? Sir, will you do mo a fevour? [To the 
first Bbavo,] I am extremely in love with that 
mg which you wear ; will you do me tha favour 
to change with me 7 

1 Bra. Lookye, Sir. this is a family wig, and 
I would not part with it; but if you like it— 

Voi..I..,.SA 16* 



[Goes up foppishly to the Lady, ona 
Balulea her. 
3 Bra. The fyiow 's very liberal ; shall w« 
murder him 7 [Apart. 

I Bra. No, no ! 1 want but a handsome pre- 
tence to quarrel with him, for you know we must 
act like gentlemen. Here, some wine — [Wine 
lm)llght.[ Sir, your good health. 

[Pulls MiKABi-i. by the rmse. 

Mir. Oh! Sir, your most humWe servant: a 

pleasant frolic enough, to drink a man's health, 

and pu!l him by the nose : ha, ha, ha ! the pleasanl- 

eet pretty-humoured genlleman. 

Lam. Help the gentleman to a glass. 

TMiH. drinks. 

1 Bra, How d'ye like the wine, Sirl 

MiT. Very good o' the kind. Sir; but I tell ys 
what, 1 find we're all inclined to be &olicsome, and 
'egad, for my own part, I was never more disposed 
to be merry ; let's moke a night on't, ha I — This 
wine is pretty, 'but I have such Burgundy at 
home.— Eookye, gentlemen, let me send for half 
a dozen flasks of my Burgundy ; I defy Prance to 
match it ;— 'Twill make us all Ufe, all air, pray, 
gentlemen. 

2 Bra. Eh I Shall us have his Burgundy ? 

1 Bra. Yes, faith, we'll have all we can ; here 
call up the gentleman's servant, [.ilpor;.]— Whal 
think you, Lamorce 7 

Lam. Yes, yes. [Aport.] Your servant is a 
foolish country binr. Sir ; he understands nothing 



Mir. Ay, ay, Madam. Here, page I 

Bn/ei' Ohuna. 
Take this key, and go to my butler, order him lo 
send half a dozen flaska of the red Burgundy, 
marked a thousand; and be sure you make haste; 
I Ions to entertain my Mends here, my veiy good 

Omnes, Ah, dear Sir ! 

1 Bra. Here, child, take a glass of wine — Your 
isler arul I have changed Wigs, honey, in a frolic. 
Where had you this pretty boy, honest Mustaphnl 
"-t. Muslapha! [Aside, 

r. Outof^Picardy—— this is the first errand 
he has made for me, and if he does it right, I'll 
irage him. 
Ori. The red Burgundy, Sir? 



Mir. The red m 



a thousai 



andbi 



Of, 1 shall. Sic. [Exit. 

1 Bra. Sir, you were pleased, to like my wig 
have you any fancy for my coat 7 — Lookye, Sir, 
il has served a great many honest gentlemen very 
faithfully. 

Mir. The insolence of these dogs is beyond 

eir cruelty. [Aside. 

Lam. You're melancholy. Sir. 

Mir. Only concerned. Madam, that I should 

. ive no servant here but this liltle boy he'll 

make some confounded blunder, I'll lay my life 
on't; 1 wonkJ not be disappoinled of my wine for 
the universe. 

Lam. He'll do well enough, Sir; but suppg' 's 
ready ; will you please to eat a hit. Sir ? 

Mir. O, Madam, ! never had a better slomaca 



o;*^.OOglc 



THE INCONSTANT. 



. , fiCT V. 



Lam. Come then — wc have nothing but a plate 
of Eoup. 

Mir, Ah \ the mairiago soup 1 could iSispcnse 
with now. 

[Aside ! exU, handing the Lady. 

2 Bra. Shall we despatch him 1 

3 Bra. To be sure. I think he knoma me. 

1 Bra. Ay, ay, dead men toll no talesi I ha'n't 

the confidence to look a man in the fiice after I 

have done him an injury, therefore we'll murder 

Mm. .[ Exeunt. 

SCENE ///—Old Mihibel's Ho-use. 

Ejlter DCKE-TETE, 

Dar, My friend has foraaken me, I have 
abandoned my mistress, my time hes heavy upon 
my hands, atid my money buma in my pocket. — 
But now I think on't, my myrmidons axe upon 
duty to-night ; I'll feirly stroll down to the guard, 
anci nod away the night with my honest heutenant 
over a flask of nine, a good story, and a pipe of 
tobacco. [Going- of. 

Biiter EiSAHHe. 

Bis. Who comes there 1 Standi 

DuT. Hey doy. now she 's turned dragoon. 

Bis. Lookje, Sir, I'm told you intend to travel 
lutain.— I design lo wait on you as to as Italy. 

Our. Then I'll travel into Wales. . 

Bis. Wales 1 "What country 's that 1 

Dar. The land of mountains, child, where 
yoa'ie never out of the way, 'cause there's no 
HOch thing as a high road. 

Bw: Bather always in a high road, 'cause you 
travel nil upon hills ;— but be't as it will, I'll jog 
along with you. 

Our. But we intend lo sail to the East Indies. 

Bis. East or West, 'IJs all one lo me ; I'm tight 
and light, and the titter for sailing. 

Dar. But suppose we lake through Germany, 
and drink hard f 

Bia. Suppose I take through Germany, and 
ilink. harder than you t 

Dar. 'Sdeath, woman^ will you go to the guard 
with me, and smoke a aipit 

Bis. AUonsdancI 

Dar. The devil 's in the woman.— Suppose I 
hang mjreelf 1 

Bis. There I'll leave you. 

Our. And a happy riddance; the gallowB is 
welcome. 

JBii. Hold, hold, Sir! [Catclies him by the 
arm oa fee is going.'] one word before we part. 

Our. Let me go, Madam 

Bis. Stir, if you dare.— Come, Sir, stand there 
now, and ogle me. [Hefro-ams upon her.] Now 
a languishing sigh! [He groans,] Now run and 
take my fan — faster. Jfle r«ni and takes it up.} 
Now play with it handsomely. 

Dur. Ay, ay. fffe tears U to pieces. 

Bis.. Hold, fiold, dear, Tmmorous coxcomb; 

captain, spare my fan, and I'll Why, you 

rude, inhdinan monster, don't you expect to pay 
for this 1 

Our. Yes, Madam, there's twelvepence; for 
that is the price on't. 



ha, ha! ridiculous, below my 
rt follow him, howcer, to know if ho 
any news of Oriana. [" " 



SCENE /y.— Lamorce's Lodgings. 
Elder Mibabel. 
Mir. Bloody hell-hounds, I overneard you !- 
Was not I two hours ago the happy, gay, rejoiiV' 
in^ Mirabel ^ How did i plume my hopes m n 
&ir coming prospect of a long scene of years 
Life courtM me with all the charms of vigour 
youth, and fortune; and to be torn away from aH 
my promised joys is more than death ; the manner 
loo, by villains, — O my Oriana, this very moment 
might have blessed me in thy arms, and my poor 
boy I the innocent boy I — Confusion !— But hushl 

they come ; I must dissemble still 

Enter ifti/ourBRAVOES. ' 

No news of ray wine, gentlemen 1 

1 Bra. No, Sir ; I Mlieve your country hoohy 
has lost himself, and we can wait no longer for't— 
True, Sir, you're a pleasant gentleman; but I 
suppose you understand our business, 

Mir. Sir, I may go near to guess at your em- 
ployments ; you. Sir, are a lawyer, I presume, you 
a phywdan, you a scrivener, and you a stock- 
jobber. All cut-throats, 'egad. [A^ds. 

4 Bra. Sir, 1 am a broken officer ; I was cash- 
iered at the head of the army for a coward ; so I 
look up the trade of murder to retrieve the reputa- 
of my courage. 

Bra. I am a soldier too, and would serve my 
[ ; but I don't like the quarrel, and I have more 
3ur than lo fight in a bad cause. 
Bra. I was bred a gentleman, and I have no 
te, but I must have my whore and my bottle, 
through the prejudice of education. 

1 Bra. I am a ruffian too, by the prejudice of 
education : I was bred a huKher. In short, Sir, 
if your wine had come, we might have trifled ■ 
little longer. — Come, Sir, whidi sword will you 
die by 1 n ■ '^ - 



3 Bra. Or m 
3 Bra. Orm 



e? 



fOnHOS. 
\Dra 



Lost, for ever lost !— Where 'b the wine, child ? 
[Fairdty. 

Ori, Coming up. Sir. [Samps. 

Enter Dcbbtete and six of Ike grand Muske- 
teers ; the R-nffians drop their Sicords ; exU 

Okhna. 

Mir. The wine, the wine, the wine ! Youth, 
pleasure, fortune, days, and years, are now my 
own again. — Ah, my dear friends, did not I tell 
you this wine would make me merry ! — Dear 
captain, these gentlemen are the best natured, 
fecBlious, witty creaturea that, ever you knew. 
Enter LaMOhCe. 

Lam. Is the wine come. Sir 7 

Mir. O yes. Madam, the wine is come see 

tbcreV [Poiniing lo the Soldiers.] Your ladyship 
has got a very fine ring upon your finger. 

Lam. Sir, 'lis at your service. 

Mir. Oho I is it sol Thou dear seven hundred 

eounda, thou'rt weleooK home again with all my 
BarCi— Ad's my life. Madam, you have got the 
finest built watch there! Tompion's, I presume i 
Lam. Sir, you may wear it. 
Mir, O, Madam, by no means; 'tisloo much — 



.l,= r,l^,OOgLC 



■1I.J 



THE INCONSTANT. 



187 



Rob you of all! [Takes it from her.] Good, dear, 
time, tIkDu'rt a preciDUS thing ; I'm glad 1 huve 
retrieved thee. [Puis it k;i.] Wliat, my friends 
neglected all ttiis nhile ! Gentlemen, youll pardon 
my coinpiaiBance to the lady. — How now 1 — Is it 
civil to be so out, of humour at my entertainment, 
and I so pleased with yoais 1— Captain, you're 
surprised at all this ; but we're in our frolics, you 

must know. Some wine here. 

Enter Serauni, 'with leine. 
Come, captain, this worthy gentleman's health. 
[ TVeofts the first Bkavo by the nose ; I 

But now — Where's my dear, dear deliverer, my 
boy, my charming boy 1 

I Bra, I hope some of our crew below stairs 
^ have despatched him. 

Mir. Villain ! what eayest thou 1 Despatch- 
ed ! I'll have ye all tortured, racked, torn to 
pieces alive, if you have touched my boy, — Here, 
pagelpagelpagel [Runs mit. 

Dm- Here, gentlemeu, i>e sure you secure 
those fellows, 

1 Bra. Yes, Sir, we know you and your guard 
will be very civil to us. 

Our, Now for you. Madam He, he, he !— 

I'm so pleased to think that I shall be revenged 
of one woman bofbio I die. 

Dur. Take 'em to Justice. 

[Guards carry of BravOes. 
Enter Old Mirabel, DuO»hd, and Bisarhe. 

Old Mr. KoWn, Robin, wheje 'sBobI where 's 
mj boy 1— What, is this the lady f a pretty viien, 
liuth! — Harltye, ehild, because my son was so 
civil as to oblige you with a coach, I'll treat you 
with a cart, inoeed I will. 

Dt^. Ay, Madam,— and you shall have a 
swinging equipage, three or four thousand foot- 
men at your hee£ at least, 

DuT. No less becomes her quality. 

Bis. Faugh! the monster I 

Dur. Monster 1 ay, you're all a httle monstrous, 
let me tell you. 

Reenter MmABE:,. 

Old Mir, Ah, my dear Bob, art thou safe, man ? 

AEt. No, no. Sir, I'm ruined 1 the saver of my 
life is lost ! 

Old JMiT. No, he came and brought us the 

Mir. But where is he ^ 

He-enter Orian», 



Father, friends, gentlemen, behold the youth that 
has relieved me irom the most ignominious death, — 
Command me, child; before you all, before my 
late so kind indulgent stars, I swear to grant 
whate'er you ask. 

Ori. To the same stars, indulgent now to me, 
I will appeal as to the justice of my claim ; 1 shaU 

demand but ivhat was mine before the just 

performance of your contract to Oriana, 

[Discoiers herself. 

Omnes. Oriana ! 

Ori. In (his disguise I resolved to follow yon 

effete, 



m stratagem; but by my providential 
designed to show the dangers wandering 
youth incurs by the pursuit of an unlawful love, 
to plunge me headlong in the snares of vice, and 
then to tree me by the hands of virtue ; here on 

myselt ] — 

Old Mir. Tal, al, 'di dal. [^ngs.] Kiss me, 
daughter-^no, you shall kiss me first. [To La- 
MOBUB.] for you're the cause on'l. Well; Bisarre, 
what say you to the captain 1 

I Hke the beast weU enough ; but I don't 
understand his paces so well as to venture him in 
itrange road. 

Old Mir,' But maiiiage is so beaten a path that 
'U can't go wrong. 



thy husband — 1 could marry thee to-day for the 
privilege of beating thee to-morrow. 

Old Mir, Come, come, yon may agree fol aji 
is. Mr, Dugard, are not you pleased with 
this? 

Dug. So pleased, that if I thought it might 
ecure your son's affection to my sister, I woulil 
ouble her fmtune. 
Mir. Fortune ! has she not given me mine t 
ly life, my estate, my all, and what is more, hel 
irtuoua self— Behold the foil [Poinltng to La- 
[ORCE/lthat sets this brightness off! [To Chi- 
na.] Here, view the pride [To Oriana.] and 
vandal of the sex, [7\) LaMorce. 

Whjit liberty can be so tempting there, 

t To Lamokce. 
As.asiifl, virtuous, owV(«!s bmidage here? 

[ "ni Oriani. 



./Google 



THE MAYOR OF GARRATT: 



A FAXtOIi, 



IN TWO ACTS. 



BY SAMUEL FOOTE, Esq. 



REMARKS. 




This liujnouroua and entertBining vince was llrsi perfornied at the Hajma 


ket Thaslre, in tT63.— 'Hie sketch ol 


rtataoler Here ia bold and coarae, hut calculated for Ibe multitudB. Majn 


Sturgeon, the city militia oflker, ia 


highly wrought, aad was admirably performed by Mr. Pools, who received a 


applause not less merited than that 


which is hesWwod on Ihe ejortiona of Mr. Dowton. in his inirailablo keeinng 


of the same character. Bruin is a 




The main incident of Uiia jnece is derived ftom a popular burlesque on our 




place after every general election, when IIih eucteasflil tandidale, selected a 


the most deformed and stupid iudi 


vidoal of llie multitude, is chaired at Oarralt Lane, in the parish of Wandsworth, and receives Ihe hcnour 0( 




e mob on these ooiasions, and the 






lar isnliments and premiseB ; that they will lower the prices of gin. trend, 


eer, ic. ; make old women bishops ; 


and lh»t they will not accept any place Iq the House. Sir Jeftrey DuDBlan 


a roguish und very detbrmed mendl- 


tanl. well tnown in London, was for many yean Miy^ ^ Oimvlt. nnd Sir 


Harry Sinsdale succeeded hija in his 




other BJnecurea, by the absence of a 


eood..lary. 




DRAMATIS PERSONS 




DRURV lANE i76i 


DBURY LANE 1814. 


Major SturokOn Jtfr Fooie. 


Mr DtMtim 


Sir Jacob Jollup Sir Badddey 
Jerri Sneak Mr WeKon 


£» 


Bl^N Mr Moody 


Mt O SmiA. 


r- iSJXM. 


Mr Enon* 


1 JUeurc C&iMrZy, 


MO". { TOUSm),^ 


J West &c 
Mr Maddoda 


Shuitle Mr Vaugha- 


CrisJin Heeltap Mr Branihy 


Mr Wetnteer 


Mna Bbuin Mrs Lee 


Jtfr. Scott 


Mrs. Sneak Mr' CUw 


Mrs Harloae. 


ACTI. rascan Is that all your mannera? Has his 


SCENE J.— S[R Jacob Joixnp'a House ai 


."S?°r, 


no a knight for you to make me 
e candidat*B near upon eominel 




Roger. Nic Goose, the tailor, ftom Putney, 


Enter Sir Jacob Jolhip. 


they eay, wiU be - ~. . . 




iSVry. Roger! 


5Sr J. Has Margery fetched in the linen '! 
Roger. Yes, Sir Jacob. 


Enter Rogek. 


Sir J. Are the pigs and the poultry looked up 


Roger. Anaii, Sir! 


in the barn 1 




SSr J. Sir, siirali ! and why not Sir Jacob, you 


Roger, Safe, Sir Jacob. 



o; t^-ooglc 



THE MAYOR OF GARRATT. 



iSfr J. And the plate and epoone in the pnutry 

Roger, Yte, Sir Jacob. 

Sir J. Then give raa the key ; the mob wUI 
soon be upon U9 ; and all is lish that comos to 
^eir net. Has Ralph laid the cloth in the hall 1 

RogefT. Yes, Sir Jacob. 

iSir J. Then let him bring out Che turkey and 
chine, and be sure there is plenty of mustard ; 
and, d'ye hear, Roger, do yea stand yourself at 
the gate, and be carefid who you let in. 

Roger. I will. Sir Jacob. [Ea 

Sr'r J. So, now I belieie things are pretty secu 
But I can't think what makes my daughteis 
late ere they — \A krMckmg at the gale.] Who 
is that, Rcsec! 

Roger. [Wilhout.] Justice Sturgeon, the fish- 
monger, ftora Brentford. 

Sir. J. Qad'a my life I and major to the Mid- 
dlesex mihtia, TJsher him in, Roger. 
Enter Msjor Stuboeon. 
1 could have wished you bad come a little sooner, 
M^or Sturgeon. 

Maj. S. Why, what has been the matter, Sir 

Sh- J. There has, major, been here an impu- 
dent pill-moagcr, who has dared to scandalize the 
whole body of the bench. 

Maj. S. Insolent companion ! had I been here, 
I would hays mittimused the rascal at once. 

Sir J. No, no, be wanted the major more than 
Iho magistrate : a few smart strokes from your 

cane would have fully answered the purpose.-^ 

Well, major, our wars are done ; the rattling drum 
and squeaking file now wound our ears no more. 

Ma). S. True, Sir Jacob, oar corps is disem- 
bodied ; so the French ma|F sleep in secoritj;. 

Sir J. But, major, wasit not ratherlate in lile 
for you to entj^r upon the profession of arms ? 

Maf. S. A little awkward in the bM;inning, 
Sir Jacob : the great difiicolly they had was, to 
gel me to turn out my toes ; but use, use reconciles 
all them kind of things : why, alter my first cam- 
pfugn, I no more minded the noise of the guns 
than a flea-bite. 

Sir J. No! 

Maj. a No. There Is more made of those 
matters than thay merit. For tlie general good, 
ii^eed, 1 am glad of the peace; but as to my 
Mngla self — and yet we have bad some desperate 
duty. Sir Jacob. 

Sir J. NodouM. 

Maj. S. Oh ! such msrchmgs and countcr- 
marclungs, ji-om Brentford to Eding, from Ealing 
lo Acton, from Acton to Uxbridge; the dust flymg, 
sun Bcorcliing, men sweating ! — Why, there was 
our last BipediUon to Houuslow ; that day's work 
carried ofif Major Molassas. Bunhill-fields never 
saw a braver commander ! He was an irrepara- 
ble loss to the service. 

Sir J. How came that about f 

Maj. S. Why, it was partly the major's own 
&nlt : I advised him . to pull off his spurs before 
he went upon action : but he was resolute, and 
would not be ruled. 

Sir J. Sgrit — zeal for the service. 

Maj. S. DoutitleES. Buttoproceed: inorderto 
get our men in good spirils, we were ciuartered at 
ThisUeworth the evemng before. At day-break 
iWr regiment formed at Hounslow town's end, as 
it might be about here. The major made a fine 
disposition : on we marched, the men all in high 



ag : hut turning down a 



Gardel is hang- 
lane lo the lell, 



attack the gibbet where Gardel is hang- 

. tornin ' 

Jhtbeai . .. - 

I»g-sly, that we might take the gallows in flanfe. 
and at all events secure a retreat, who shoald 
come by but a drove of fat oien for Smithfield. 
The drums beat in the Jront, the dogs barked in 
tlie rear, the oicn set up a gallop : On they came 
thundering upon us, broke through our ranks 
in an instant, and threw the whole corps in con' 

Sir' J. Terrible 1 

Maj. S. The major's horse took lo his heels; 
away he scoured over the heath. That gallant 
commander stuck both his spurs into the flank, 
and for sometime heldby bismane; but, in crosu- 
ing a ditch, the horse threw up his bead, gave the 
major a dowse in the chops, and plumped niin into 
a gravel-rat, just by the powder mills. 
Sir J. Dreadful 1 

Maj. S. WhetherfromtheMorthefiight,tiie 
major moved off" in a month. Indeed, it was an 
- (ifortunate day lor us all. 
Sir J. Aa how 1 

My S. Why, as Captain Cuciiinber, Lieute- 
ml Pattypan, Ensign Tripe, and myself, were 
turning to town in the 1 urnham-green stage, 
e were stopped nearlhe Hammersmith turnpike, 
id robbed and stripped by a single footpad. 
Sir J. An unfortunate day indeed ! 
Maj. S. But, in some measure (« make lan 
□ends, 1 got the major's commis^on. 
Sir J. You did? 

Maj. S. O yes. I vras the only one of lh« 
corps that could ride ; otherwise we always eu<> 
ceeded of course: no jumping over heads, no 
irhand work amon^ us; all men of honourj 
I must do the regiment the justice to say, 
there never was a set of more anuable ofiieera. 
Str J, ftuiet and peaceable. 
Maj. 8. As lambs, Sir Jacob. Excepting one 
boxing bout at the Three Compasses in Auton, 
between' Captain Sheers and the Colonel, con- 
cerning a game at all-firars, I don't remember a 
single c ■ 



V, that w 



itiny; 1 






ought to have been broke. 

ftjj. S. Ho was; for the colonel not only look 

away his cockade, but his custom : and I don't 

think poor CaplMn Sheers has done a stitch for 

Sir J. But you soon supplied the loss of 
Molassast 
Maj. S. In part only ; no, Sir Jacob, he had 

treat experience ; he was trained up to arms 
-om his youth ; at sisteen, be trailed a pike in 
the Artillery-ground ; at eighteen, got a company 
* ' " "ifiekS pioneera; and bythe lime be 



Svras made aid-de-camp to Sir Jeffrey 
I, alderman, and cobnel of tlie yellow. 
ir J. % rapid rise I 
-laj, S. YeSj he had a genius for war; but 
what I wanted in practice, I made up by doubling 
my diligence. Our porter at home bad been a 
irgeant of marines; so, after shop was shut i^i 
. night, he used lo teach me my exercise ; anil 
he had not lo deal with a dunce, Sir Jacob 
Sir J. Your progress was great. 
Maj. S. Amazing. In a week I could shouldei, 
and rest, and poiie, and turn to the right, and 
wheel lo the left ; and in less then a month [ 
could fire without winking or blinking. 



ic.i,= r,i^,oogle 



Sir J. A perfect Hannibal. 

MaJ. S. Ah, and then I learned to form lines, 
and hallows, and squares, and evolutions, anil 
revoluHons. Let me tell you, Sir Jacob, it was 
lucky that monaeur kept hia myrmidons at home, 
01 we should have peppered hia flat^boltonied 

Sir J. Aj, marry, he had a marvellooa ea 

Maj. S. We would a taught Min what a Brltoi 
can do, who ia fighting pro amis andjbcus. 

Sir J. Pray now, major, which do you look 
upon as the beet diainpHned troops, the London 



any S€ 

lieve, unless indeed upon a lord mayor'a day, and 
that mere mallor of acddent, that they were ever 
wet tr the skin in their lives. 

i9tr X Indeed I 

Maj. S. No I soldiers for sunshine ; cockneys ; 
they have not the appearance, the air, the free- 
dom, the jenni/ sequoi that — Oh, could you but 
Eoe me salute! You have never a spontoon in'the 
house T 

Sir J. Wo; but we could get you a shove- 

siaj. S. Nomatter, WeU, Sir Jacob, and how 
are your &ir daughters, sweet Mrs. Sneak, and 
Ae lovely Mrs. Bruin; is she as lively and as bril- 
liant as ever 1 

Sir J. Oh, oh, now the murder is out; this viat 
was intended lor them : come, own now, major, 
did not yon eipeot to meet with them here? you 
officers are men of such gallantry ! 

Ma}. S. Why, vie do tickle up the ladies, Sir 
Jacob : there is no resisting a red coat. 



THE MAYOR OP GARRATT. [acti. 

Re-enter Major Stdiigeon, leading in Mas. 



ATrs. S. Dear major, I demand a million of 

fardons. I have given you a profusion of trouble; 
ut my husband is such a goose-cap, that I can'l 
Set no good out of him at home or abroad. 
erry, Jeriy Sneak I — Your blessing, Sir Jacob, 
Sir J. Daugliter, you are welcome t« Garratt. 
Mrs. S. Wny, Jerry Sueak I I eaj. 

Enter Jerhy Sneak, loitS. a band-box and a hoop' 
petticoat urtder has orm, and cardinal, ^c. 
Sneak. Here, iovy. 
Mrs, S. Here, looby : there, lay these thmgs ia 

the hall ; and then go and look after the horse. 

Aro yon sure jou have got all the things out of 



the chait 



IT J. True; true, major. 



MaJ.i 



now all o 






n says in the play ; like 

the Roman censureT, I shall retire to my Savine 

field, and there cultivate cabbages. 

St J. Under the shade of your laurels, 

Maj. S True : I have done with the major, 

and now return to the magisttale; cedunt arma 

Mob. [Withmit.'] Huizal 

He-enter Rose B. 

Sir J. What 's the matter now, Roger t 

Roger. The electors desire to know if your 
worship has any body to recommend 1 

Sir J. By no means; let them be free in Iheir 
chiMce ; 1 sha^n^ interfere. 

Roger. And if your worship has any objection 
to Criapiu Heeltap, the cobbler, being returning 
officer! 

Sir J. None, provided the rascal can keep him- 
self sober. Is he there 1 

Roger. Yea, Sir Jacob. Make way there ; 
stand &rther off from the gate ; Here is Madam 
Sneak in a chair along with her husband. 

flfraj, S. "Gadso, yoQ will permit me to convoy 
her in. [Exit. 

iSfr J. Now here is one of the evils of war. 
This Stu^on was as pains-taking a Billiugsgate- 
broket as any in the bills of inorlalitjr. But the 



Sneak. Yes, chock, 

Mrs. S. Then give me my fan. 

[jEMRy drops the things in aearching 
hU pocket Jot the fan. 
Mrs. S. Did ever mortal see such a — I declare, 
am quite ashamed to be seen with him abroad : 
go, get you gone out of my sight, 

i&ieofc. I go, levy. Good day to my father-in- 

Sir J. I am glad to see you, son Sneak ; but 
where is your brotbor Bruin and his wife ? 

Sneai. He wil[behereanon,fether,Sir Jacob] 
he did bat just step into the Alley to gather how 
tickets were sold. 

Sir J Very well, son Sneak. [Exit SNB:iK 

Mrs. S. Son ! yes, and a pretty son you have 
provided. 

Sir J. I hope all fof the best : why, what ter- 
rible work there would have been, had you mar- 
ried such a one as your sister ; one house could 
never have contained you. Now, I thought this 

Mrs. S. Meek I a mushroom ! a milksop I 
Sir J. Look yc, Molly, I have married you loa 
man ; take care you don't make him a 



_ [ad my kind stars 
indeed allotted me a military man, I should, 
doubtless, have deported myself in a beseemingly 

Maj. S. Unquestionably, Madam. 

Mrs, S. Nor would the major have found, had 
_. been my fortune lo intermarry with him, that 
Molly Jollup would have dishonoured his clotji. 

J&j. S, i should have been too happy. 

Mts. S. Indeed Sir, I reverence the anny ; thej 
re all so brave, so polite, so every thing a woman 

Maj. S, Oh, Madam 

Mrs. S. So elegant, sogenleel, ao obliging ; and 
then the rank ; why, who would dare to affront 
the wife of a major! 

Maj. S. No man vvith impunity ; that I take 
the freedom to say. Madam. 
Mrs. S. I know it, good Sir. Oh! I am a 
ranger to what I have missed, 
Maj. S. Oh, Madam I— Let me die, but she 
has infinite merit. [Aside. 

S. Then to be^oined to a sneaking, sla- 
nt : a paltry, prying, {ntif u[ pin-maker I 
. S. Melancholy t 

. SL To be jostled and crammed with the 
I no respect, no place, no precedence; U. 



ioit,d=, Google 



THE MAYOR F GARRATT. 



be choked with the smoke of Iho city ; no country 
iauiits but to Islington ; no balls but at Pewlerers' 

Maj. S Intolerable ! 



would OVI 

worser than the hroor 

Maj. S. Andji 
your lady. 



and she says as how I b; 



Mn. S. Gallant genlloman ! 

4fiij. S Tbe brave must fevour the feir. 

Mrs. S. Intrepid major! 

Maj. S. Divine Mrs, Sneak I 



Maj. a Might Ibe permitted the honour 
3fts. S Sir! 
Maj. S. Just to ravish a Uaa from your hand 1 
'"" " "^— "lavB a right to all we 



Maj. 
—Hum— Ha 



Courteous, conJeacendmg, complying 

He-enter Jerry Sneak. 

Sneak, Chuck, my brother and sister Brui 
just turning the corner; the Claplwai stagf 
quite full, and so they came by valer. 

Mrs. S. I wish they had all been soused i 
Thames,— A prying, impertinent puppy ! 

Miij. S. Neit time I will clap a sentinel to 
secure the door, 

Mrs. S. Major Sturgeon, permit me to 
draw tor a moment; my dress demands t 

Maj. S. Your ladyship's most entirely de 

Mrs. S. Ladyship ! he is the very Brogiio and 
Belleisle of the army I 

Siteak. Shall I wait upon you, ilove^ 

Mrs, S. No, dolt ; what, would you leave the 
major akmel Is that your manners, you moi 
gcel? 

Maj. S. Oh, Madam, I can never bo alone ; you 
sweet idea will be my constant companion. 

Mrs. S. Mark that : I am sorry. Sir, I am ob 
ligated to leave you. 

Maj. S. Madam — 

Mrs. & Especially with such a wretched com 

Maj. S. Oh, Madam- 
Mrs, S. But as soon as my dress is restored, 
rfiall fly to relieve your distress. 

Maj. S. For that mooMsnt I shall wait with the 
greatest Impatience. 

Mrs, S, Courteous commander '. 

Maj. S. Paragon of women! 

Mrs.S. Adieu! 

Maj. S. Adieu 1 \EiU Mrs. Sneak. 

Saeak. Notwithstanding, Sir, all my chicken 
has said, I am special company when she is 
not by, 

Maj. S. I doubt not Master Sneak. 

Sneak. If you would but come one Thursday 
night to our dub, at the I^ag's-head In the Poul- 
try, you would meet some roaring, rare boys, 
i'Mth ; there 'a Jemmy Pertins, the packer ; Uttle 
Tom Simklns, the grocer; honest Master Muzzle, 
the midwife — • 
Maj. S. A goodly company. 
Sneak, Ay, and then sometimes we have the 
choice spoils from Comus' court, and 



ink of disobliging 
' oontiadicts her, 
Maj. S. That 's right : she is a woman of Infi- 

Saeak. O, a power J And don't you think sha 
IS very. preUy mitl,al 1 

Maj. S. A Venus ! 

Sneak, Yes, worry like Venus. — Mayhap you 
have known her some Ume 1 

Maj. S, Long. 

iSneak. Belike before she was married 1 

Maj. S. I did Master Sneak, 

Sneak. Ay, when she was a virgin. I thought 
fou was an oiil acquaintance, by vour kissing her 
land J for we ben't quite so fiimiliar as that.— Bui 
then mdeed we ha'n't been married a year. 
The mere honeymoon. 
Ay, ay, I suppose we shall come to It 
by degrees. 

Brum, [WUkout,] Come along, Jane; why 

■u are as pursy and laiy, you jade— 

liter BiimN an4 Mrs. BnuzN; Beuin wiift a 

collon cap <m ; his loife v>Uk his wig,gTeat coat, 



nornmgloyou. 



r, lai 



your humble s< 



Re-enter Rogbr, 
Roger. Mrs, Sneak begs to speak with ih, 
it on the lady immediat 



' Maj, i 






, , think 

\Exit Major.] A good 
to you, brother Bruin : you have had a 









the worU bi 



Mrs. B. Good lord, I am all In a muck— 

Briitfi. And whomayyou thankfor itjhuBsyl 

if you had got up lime enough, you might have 

secured the stage ; but you arc a lazy lie-abed— 

Mrs. B. There 's Mr. Sneak keeps my sister 

Bruin, And so he may; but I know better 
what to do with my money, 

' . B. For the matter of that, we can allbrd 
enough as It is, 

in. And how do you know that 1 Who 

told you as much, Mrs, Mixen t I hope 1 know 

r than to trust my concerns with 

, , thank yoa for that, Mrs, Jane, 

And pray who is more titterer to be 

trusted 1 

Brain. Hey-day I Why, tiie wench is be- 

wilch'd; come,come, let's have none of your pal- 

iver here,— -Take twelve-pence and pay the water- 

iiaa. — But first see if he has broke none of the 

ilpes : — and, d'ye hear, Jane, be sure to lay the 

ishing-rod safe, {Exit Mrs. Bruiw, 

Sneoi. Odds me, how finely she's managed ! 

(that would 1 give to have my wife as much under! 

" ■ -■ illyourownfault,brotherSneak. 

"■■-'■--■' °'-^-i sweet pretty 



^alTym 



eak. D'ye thmk si 



j.^t^iOOglc 



THE MAYOE OF GARRATT. 



[Acrr II. 



Sneak, Why, to say the truth, she does now 
and then hector a little ; itnd, between ourselves, 
domineers hke the devil. O Lord, I lead the hfe 
of a dog. Why, she allows me but two shillings 
a week lor my pocket. 

Bruin. Ko! 

Sneak. Na, man ; 'tis she that receives and 
]iays all: and thee 1 am forced to trot afler her 
to church, with her cardinal, pattens, and prayer- 
book, for all the wotlii as If I was still n 'prentice. 

Sruiit, ZoundE ! 1 would souse them all in the 
kennel. 

Sneak. Idurstnot, And Ihenattable, Inever 
gels what I lines. 

Btuw. The devil! 

Sneak. No; she always helps me herself lo 
&e tough drumsticks of (he turkeys, and the 
damned &t flaps of shoulders of mutton. 1 don't 
Chink I have eat a bit of nnder-cmst since wo have 
been married. You see, brother Bruin, I am al- 



ls thin ai 



I lath. 



^ An absolute skeleton 1 

Snealc. Now, if you think I could carry my 
point, 1 would so swinge and leather my lambkin ; 
Uod, I would so curry and claw herl 

Bruin. By the lord Hairy, she richly deserves it. 

SneoM. Will you, brother, lend me a lift? 

Brain. Command tub at all times. 

Stieai. Why (hen, I will verily pluck up a 
s[nrit ; and the lirst time she ofEers to 

Mrs. 8. [Wilhoul] Jenj, Jerry Sneak I 

Sneak, 'Gfad's my life, sure as a gun that 's her 
vmce ; lookye, brother, I don't choose to breed a 
disturbance in another body's honse j but as soon 
as ever 1 get hom e 

Brain. Now is yonr Onie. 

SneoJc, No, no ; it would not be decent. 

Mrs. S. [H'li/ioui.] Jerry! Jerry! 

Saeak. Icome, lovy. But you will be sure to 
standby met 

Brain. Trot, nincompoop. 

Sneak. Well, if I dotft—l wish- 
Mrs. S. [Wiiftouf.] Where is tlus lazy puppy 
a-loitering 1 

Sneak. I come, chuck, as fast as I can. Good 
Lord, what a sad tile do I lead I [Extl. 

Bruin. Ex qiiovis lingua: who can make a 
silk purse of a sow's earl 

Reenter SiB Jacob. 

Sir J. Come, son Bruin, we are all seated at 
table, man ; we' have but just time for a snack ; 
^e candidates are near npon coming. 

Brut™. A poor, paltry, mean-spinted.—Damn 
U, before I would submit to such a — 

Sir J. Come come, man ; don't be so crusty. 

Bridn. I follow. Sir Jacob, Damme, when 

wall give up^-But, however, it is no bread and 

butter of mine. Jerry \ Jerry I — -Zounds, I 

would Jerry and jerk her too. \Exii. 



Sir JicoB Jollup, Major Stdrgeon, Bruin, 
Mbs. Bflurw, Jerry Sneak, and Mrs. Sneak, 
dieooteredonBiai icoB'sgardeJiviaU.— Enter 
Mop.,tcilhHE,si.Ti,p at Iheir head I smne crying 
a Goose, others a Mug, and others a Primmer. 



Heel. Silence, t> 



I Mob. Hear neighbour Heeltap. 

3 Mub. Ay, ay, i^ar Crispin. 

3 .Mob. Ay, aj, hear him, hear Crispin: he will 
put us into the model of the thing at once. 

BeeL Why then, silence ! I say. 

AU. Silence! 

UeeJ. Silence, and let us proceed, neighbours 
vvith all the decency and confusion usual upon 
these occasions. 

1 Mob, Ay, ay, there is no doing without that, 

Alt. No, no, no. 

Heel. Silence then^ and keep the peace ; what, 
is there no respect paid to authority : am not I the 
returning officer? 

All. Ay, ay, ay. 

Heel. Chosen by yourselves, and approved of 
by Sir Jacob 1 

AU. True, true. 

Heel. Weil then, besilentand civil; slandback 
there. Chat gentleman wichout a shirt, and maka 
room for your belters. Where 's Simon Snuffle, 
the seiton ■? 

Snti^e. Here, 

Beel. Let him come forward ; we appoint him 
our secretary : for Simon is a seollara, and can 
read written hand; and so let him be respected 
accordingly. 



3 Mob. 



ir Master Snuffle. 



Heel, Here, stand by me : and let ns, neigh- 
bours, proceed lo open the premunire of the thing : 
but flrst, your reverence to the lord of the manorr 
a long life and a merry one Co out landlord, Sit 
Jacob! Huiia! 

Mob. Huzza! 

SneaJc. How fares it, honest Crisran "( 

Heel. Servant, Master Sneak. Let us now 
open the premunire of the thing, which I shall da 
briefly, with all the loquacity possible; thai is, in 
a medium way; which, that we may the belter do 
it, let the secretary read the names of the candi- 
dates, and what they say for themselves ; and then 
we shall know what lo say of them. Master 
Snuffle, begin. 

iSniu^e, [Reads.] " 7% the ^porthyinhabitanit 
of the ancient corporation qf Garralt. Qenlte- 
tnen, your voles and interests are humbtyrequeit- 
ed ir. favour o/Timothy Goose, to ewxeed our 
late worthy mayor, Mr. Richard Dripping, in the 
said qfflce, he being " 

I&el. This Goose is bat a kind of gosling, a 
sort of sneaking scoundrel. Who is hel 

Snugle. A journeyman tailor from Putney. 

Heel. A journeyman tailor I A rascal, has he 
the impudence to l.ranspira to be mayor 1 D'ye 
cimuder, neighbours, the w^ght of this office 1 
Why, it is a buiden ibr the back of a porter ; and 
can you think that this eross-iegg'd, cabbag&eal- 
ing son of a cucumber, this whey-faced ninny, 
who is but the ninth part of a man, has strength 
lo support it 1 

1 Mob. No Goose I no Gfoose ! 

2 Mob, A Goose I 

ffeel. Hold your hissing, and proceed to the 

Srtfi^e, [Reads,] " Yonr votes are desired Jin 
Matthew Mug," 

Mob, A Mug I a Mug! 

Heel, Oh, oh, what you are aU ready lo have ■ 
touch of tiie ^nkard! but fair and soft, good 
neighbours, and, unless I am mJaCaken, yon will 
find him a damned bitter draught. 

1 Mob, A Mug I a Mug! 



o^t^-ooglc 



!!.] 



THE MAYOR OF GARRATT. 



2 Mob. Hear him ; hear Master Heelto 
1 Mob, A Mug! a Mug! 
Heel. Harkee, you lellom, with your mouth full 

of mug, let me aek you a question : bring hi~ 
forward. Pray ia not this Matthew Mug, a vi 
laatlei ^ 

3 Mob. T believe he may. 

Bed. And lives at lie aiga of the Adam and 
Eve? 

3 Mob. I believe he may. 

Heel. Now answer upon your honour, a 
you are a genlleman, what is (he present pr 
a quart of home-brewed at Ibe Adam and E 

d Mob. I don't know. 

Heel, You lie, arrafi : an't it a groat 1 

3 Mob. [ beUeve it may. 

Heel. Oh.maybeso, Now, neighbours, I 
a pretty rascal; this same Miic, because, iI'jbbcd, 
Btate afiairB would not jog cUbly without laying a 
fertbing a quart npon ale, Uiis soonodrel, not con- 
lentei! to take thii^s in a medium way, has had 
the impudence to nse it a penny. 

Mob, No Mug ! no Mug ! 

Heel. So, I thought I should crack Mr. Mug, 
Come, proceed to the next, Simon, 

Sav^. The next upon the list is Peter Prim- 
mer, the schoolmaster, 

fleet Ay, neighbours, and a sufBcient man: 
let me teU you, Master Primmer is the man fbr 
my money ; a man of learning, that can lay down 
the law; why, adzooke, he is wise enough to 
puMie the parson ; and then, how yoa have heard 
him oration at the Adam and Eve, of a Saturday 
night, about Rossia and Prussia, 'Ecod, George 
Raoe the exciseman is nothing at all to un. 

iMob. A Primmer ! 

Heei. Ay,if the folks above did but know him. 
Why, lads, he will make us all statesmen in time 

3 Mob, Indeed! 

Heel, Whjr he swears as how, all Hie miscar- 
riages are owing to the great people's not learning 

3 Mob. Indeai I 

Heel. "For," says Peter,. says be, "if they 
would but once submit to be learned by me, there 
is no knowing to what a pitch the nation might 



didat* 



irPrimi 



B:el. He ia, Master Sneak, 

Sneak. Lord, 1 know him, mun, as well as my 
liiother; why, luaed togo to hia lectures to Pew- 
lerers'hall, 'long with deputy Fickin, 

f&el. Like enough. 

Sneak. Odds ma, brother Bruin, can you tell 
mo what is become of my vife 1 



I will go and take a peep at what they are ddng, 
[ExU. 
Mob, [mihaui.] Karxa'. 



Heel Cfad-sc 



the candidates ai 



: coming. 



Reenter 8ih Jacob Jolluf, Bruin, and Mrs, 
Bruin, through Ike garden gate. 

Sir J. Well son Bruio, how d'ye relish the 
eorporation of Garralt? 

Bruin, Wbj, lookye^ Sir Jacob, my way is al- 
ways to speak whatlthmk: I don't approve on't 



Vol. I 



17 



Hr J. And what 's your objection f 
Jruin. Why, I was never ovw-fond of your 
Maygames: b^es, corporations are loo serious 
things ; they are edge-tools. Sir Jacob. 

Sir J, That they are frequently tools, I can 
readily grant; but I never heard much of their 

a^s. B. Well now, I protest I am pleased with 
It mighljly. 

Bruin. And who the devil doubts it? You 
women folks are easily pleased, 

Mrs, B, Well, I like it so well, that 1 hope to 

Bruin. Do youl Why then you will be 
damnably bit ; you may take your leave, I can tell 
you: forthisia the last you shall aee. 

Sir J. Pie, Nr. Bruin, how can you be such a 
bear 1 Is that a manner of treating your wife. 

Bruin, What, 1 suppose you would have me 

oh a snivelling sol as your son-in-law Sneat, \a 
truckle and cringe, to fetch and to 

ile.enteT Jeret Sheak, in a violent huTry. 

Sneak. Where 's brother Bruin 1 O Lord I 
brother, I have such a dismal story to tell you. 

Bruin. What 'a the matter. 

Sneak. Why, you know I went into the garden 
.. look for my vife and the major, and fliero I 
hunted and hunted as sharp as if it had been for 
one of my own minikins; but the deuce a major 
or madam could I aee ; at last, a thought came 
into my head to look for them up in the summer- 
houae, 

in. And there yen found them % 
li, rilleilyou: the^door was locked; and 
then I looked through the key-hole : and there. 
Lord ha' mercy upon us ! [Whispers.] as sura 
-IB gun. 

Bruin, Indeed I Zounds, why did not you 
break open the door ? 

Sneak. I durst not. What, would you have 
o set my wit (o a soldier 1 1 warrant the major 
would have knocked me down with one of his 

Bruin. Very well! Pretty dranga! you see, 
Sir Jacob, these are the fruits of indulgence. You 
nay call me a bear, but your daughter shall never 
nske me a beaat. [Mob kussas. 

Sir J. Hey-dey! What, is the election over 
dready 1 



Re-ent 



N Hef.!, 



,P,<f^, 



Heel. Where Is Master Sneak 1 

Sneak. Here, Crispin, 

flee!. The ancient corporation of Garratt, in 
consideration of your great parts and abilities, and 
out of respect to their landlord, Sir Jacob, have 
unanimously chosen you mayor. 

Sneak. Me I huzza 1 Good Lord, who would 

.vo though it 1 But how came lUaster Primmer 
. lose it 1 

md. Why^ Phil Fleam had told the electors, 
that Master Primmer was an Irishman ; and ao 
they would none of them give their vote tbr a 

Sneak. So then I have it for certain : huraa I 
low, brother Bruin, vou shall see how I'll 
lanage my madam 'Gad, I'll make her knun 
man of authority ; she shan't think to duI< 



lock ai 
Mrs, £ 



[Witkout.] Jen 






,/ Google 



THE MAYOR OF GARRATT. 



Bruin, Now Gic it, Sneak ; the enemy 's a( 

Sneak. Yon promiEe to stand by me, brotliei 

Bruin. Tooth and nail 

Sneak. Then now for it ; I am ready, let her 



Jfe-ei 



3- Mhh. Sneak 



Mrs. S. Where is the puppy ? 

Sneat. Yes, yes, she is axing for me. 

Mre.S. So,eo*i what, is this true Ihat I hear ? 

Sneak. May be 'tis, may be lan't; [ don' 

i^009Q to tniEt mv af&irs with a voman, 1: 

that right, brother Bruin 1 [ Apart 

"-—'-i. Pine! don't bate her an inch, [djiar/ 



i. Sluid by 



[Apari. 



Mrs. S, Hey-davl I am amazed! Why, what 

Sneak. Themeaningiaplain; IhatlaoiOTOwn 
a man, and yil do what I please, without being 
aocoantable to nobody. 

Mrs. S Why, the fellow is sorely bewitched. 

Smiali, No, I am imwitched, and that you shall 
know to your cost; and since you provoke me, 1 
will tell you a bit of my mind ; what, I am the 
husband, 1 hopel 

Brain. Thal'sright; atheraBdn. [Apari, 

Sneak. Yes, and you sha'nt think to hectjir and 
doouneer over nie aa jou have done ; for I'll go to 
UiH club when I please, and stay out as late as 1 
list, and row in a boat to Putney on Sondaye, and 
wisit my friends at Vltsontide, and keep the key of 
the till, and help myself at table to vhat wittlea I 
like i and I'll have a bit of the brovm. 

Bruin. Biavo, brother Sneak, the day's your 
own. [Apart. 

Stieak. An't it 1 Vhy, 1 did not think it vas m 
n». ShalllteliheraUIknowl , [Apart. 

Brain. Every thing. You see she is struck 
dunib. [Apart, 

Sneak. As an oyster. [Apart.} Besides, Ma- 
dam, I have something furder to tell you: 'ecod, 
if some folks go into gardens with majora, mayhap 

other people may go into garrets with maids. 

There,Igaveitlierhome,brotherBcuin. [Apart. 

Mrs. S. Why, noodle! jackanapesl harkye, 



Bl-i 



Ami! 



oe, don't go to 
yhj, niy vife, and I am your master. 

Mrs. S. My master! you paltry, puddling 
puppy! you sneaking, shabby, scrubby, snivelling 

SneoA. Brother Bruin, don't kit her come near 
me. [Apart. 

Mts.S. Have I,sirrab,demeanedmyselflo wed 
each a thing, such a reptile as thea 1 Have I not 
macie myseffa by-word to all my acquainlatic* ' 
Don't all the world cry. Lord, who would have 
thought it 1 Miss Molly Jollup to be married to 
Snealt; to take up at last with such anoodle as he'! 

Sneak. Ay, and glad enough you could catch 
me ; you know you was pre«y near your last legs, 

Mrs, S, Was there ever such a confident carl 
My last legs! Why, alt the country knovre I 
could have picked and choosed where I would. 
Did not I refuse 'Squire Ap-Griffithfrem Wales 1 
Did not Counsellor Ci ' '' ■— ■-- 



Siieai. Nay, brother Bruin, she has bad werry 
good proflers, that is certain. [Apart. 

Mrs. S. My last legs !~-but I can rein my pas 
sion no longer; let me get at the villain. 

Bruin. O fie, sister Sneak. 

Sneak. Hold her fest. [Apart, 

Mrs. S. Mr. Bruin, unhand me; what is il 
you that haye stirred up these coals then 1 He is 
set on by you to abuse me. 

Brain. Not!; I would only have a tnan behave 



like a 



', I 



Re.en.ter Mtsoa Stueoeon. 



Oh,majorl suchariot and rumpus I Likeaman, 
indeed 1 I wish people would mind their own 
affiiitSiBud not meddle with matters that does not 
concern them:— but all in good time; I shall one 
daycalchWmalone, when he hasnot his bullies 
fo back him. 

Sneak. Adod, that's true, brother Bruin ; what 
shall I do when she has me at home, and nobody 
by but ourselves 1 [Apart. 

Bruin. If you get her once under, you may do 
with her whatever you will. 

jWoj. S Leoitye, Master Bruin, I don't know 
how this behaviour may suit with a citizen ; but 
were you an otiicer, and Major Sturgeon upon 

Bruin. What then 'i 

Maj. S. Then 1 why then you would be broke. 

Bruin. Broke! and forwlfflf! 

Afaj. S. What! read the articles of war. But 
these things are out of your spear; points of 
honour are for the sons of the sword. 

Sneak. Honour! if you come to that, where 
was your honour when you got my vife in the 

Maj. S. Now, Sir Jacob, this is the curse of 
our cloth: all suspected for the faults of a few. 

Sneak. Ay, and not without reason. I heard 
of your tricks at th« Kins of Bobemy, when you 
was campaigning about, I did. Father Sir Jacob, 

Maj.S. Stop whilst youare safe, Master Sneak; 
for (he sake of your amiable lady, I pardon what 
is past— but for you [TIsBbuiN. 

Bruin. Well, 

Maj, S. Dread the whote force of my fury. 

Brain. Why, lookye, Major Sturgeon, 1 don't 
much care for your poppers and sharps, because 
why, they are out of my way; but if you vrill 
doff with your boots, and boi a couple of bouts— 

Maj. S. Box ! boi !— Blades ! bullets ! ba^-shot t 

Mrs. S. Not for the world, my dear major ; oh, 
risk not so precious a life. Ungralsful wretches i 
and IB this the reward for all the great feels he 
has done t After all his marchings, his sousings, 
his sweatings, his swimmings, must his dear 
blood be spilt by a broker! 

Maj. S. Be satisfied, sweet Mrs, Sneak ; these 
htde fracasas we soldiers are aubjectto; (rifles, 
bagalailes. Mrs. Sneak, But, that matters may 
be conducted in a military manner, I will get our 
chaplain to pen me a. challenge. Eipect to bear 
from my adjutant. [To Bhuin, 

Mrs. S. Major! Sir Jacob! what, are you all 
leagued against his dear life 1 Amanl yea, a very 
manly action indeed, to act marrieii people a 
y uarrelling, and ferment a difference between hiu- 



,, Google 



THE MAYOR OF GARRATT. 



hand and wife : if you were a man, you would 
not stand by and see a poor woman beat and 
Unified by a brute, yoo would not, 

Snea/c. O Lord, 1 can hold out no longer, why, 
brDthBr Bruin, you hare set her a veeping. My 
Bfe, my lovy, dont veep : did I ever think Ishould 
have made my Molly to veep 1 

Mrs. S, Last legs! you lubberly 

rShTjtss Aim- 
Sir J. Oh, lie. Mollyl 
Jlfrs. S. What, are you leagued against me, 

Sir J. Pt'ythee, don't expose yourself before 
the whole parish. But what has been the ocea- 
raonofthisi 

M™. S. Why, has not he gone and made him- 
self the fool of the fkirl Mayor of Qartatt, 
deed I ecod, I conld trample him ander my fe 

Saeak. Nay, why should you grudge me 
parlarment ? 

Mrs. S. Didyouever heat Bach an oafl Why 
thee wilt be pomtcd at wheteser thee goest, 
Lookye, Jerry, mind what I say ; go get 'em t 
choose somebody else, or never come near m 
ogam. 

Sneak. What shall I do, father Sir Jacob t 

Sir J. Nay, daughter, you take this Uiing ii 
a fight; my honest neighbours thought 



to execute the office : he is, 
qualidfid. 

Mob. A Heeltap ! 

Hid. What, do you mean ! 
deputy 1 

Sir J. Ay, ay, his locum le\ 



xiaylac^ 
d, Master 



Bed. Give me your hand, Master Sneak, and 
to obUge you 1 will be. the lacam ienens., . 

Sir J. So, that is settled : but now to heal ( 
other breach : come, major, the gentlemen of Jc _. 
doth seldom bear malice; let me interpose be- 
tweeb you and my son, 

Maj. S. Your son-in-law. Sir Jacob, does de- 
serse a castigation; but on recollection, a cit 
moald but suUy my arms. I forgive him. 

Sir J. Tbat 's right. As a token of amity, 
and to celebrate otirfeast, let us call in the fiddles. 
Now if the major had but his shoes, he might 
j(rin in a country dance. 

Ma}. S. Sir Jacob, no shora ; a major must be 
never out of hie boots | always ready for action, 
Mrs, Sneak wilt find me llghlsomo enough. 

SneaJc. What, are all flie vomen engaged % 
why then my locum ienens and I will jig to- 
iretner. Forget and feraive, major. 

Maj. S. Freely. . "'. 

Nor be it said, that after all my toil, 
I Stain'd my regimentals by a broil. 
To you I dedicate boots, sword, and shield. 

Sir J. Ab harmless in the chamber as the field. 



ROBINSON CRUSOE. 

When I was a lad. myfortanema had. 

My grandfaOierldid lose, O ; 
r II bet yoa a can, you hove heard of then 
Ihs mune ii teas Kcbinson Ci-tmoe, 
Ok .' poor iJnWnmm Cnuae, 
Tinky ting taite, tinky ling tai 
Oh ! poor Rohiaam Crusoe. 



While (fa raging uJarlwii 

Tbal {he ship mlh a ihockfcU plimp i 
Near drowaing poor i&iinjon Crusoe. 
Oh ! poor, 4c. 

Poor lovl .' none ivi he ecaw'd on Ihe sea. 
Ah ! Fale. Fate ! ham could you do so ; 

' Tilt atlenglJt he was thronmoa an island untnoas 
Which reixined poor Robinson Crusoe. 



M/: 






But he sav'd from on ioard a gtm and a sword. 

And flncMAer oH mailer or two, so;' 
That by dint o/" hit thrift he manag'dto sbOl 
Pretty u^U. far poor RMasonCrusoe. 
Oh ! poor, ^. 
Heux 



And he iappen'd to saee/ri 

That, ahen he (omf homeff 

Us'd to cry oat, poor Rjibinsoa Crusoe. 
Oh I poor, ^0- 

l^en he got all Ihe wood that ever he could. 

And he stuck it together lOJth glue, so ,■ 
That he made him a hut in lihim he migAl put 



While his man Friday kepi lie house sn\i- 

To he sure 'twas his misinefs to do so, 

They liifd friendly together, less liie se 

TteighbouT, 

Liv'd Friday and Robinson Crusoe. 

Oh .' poor, 4c. 

Then he wore a large cap, and a coat with 

And a beard as long as a Jevi, so. 
That, by all that 'i citS, he look'd like a d 



— -took la his Utile ci 

When he reach'd Ihe ship, Ii 
Back to England brough 



, Google 



BARBAROSSA: 

A TBAGEDY, 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY DR. BROWNE. 



nmer/aite and the Minaxg Bride. 

Masler Belly made bia firal appeataiice before 
tills play ; and was received wilh loud laugbur. i 
geuuine fnee. 

U ia heia comcUy given, ?» tlKnlieiJiRmed, 



REMARKS. 

of Ibe aulbor, who b«i 
ie ira^df of JUcmpi, a 



ia Butpriaing ability anrt 



KAMATIS PERSON.iE. 



Mt Hargram 
Mr Miaray 
Mr Cresaeit 
Mr Chapman. 



/APHUtA 



Mr Aibot 
Officers Altendanta Soliliers &.C 
ScBNB. — The Ro\al Pnlace of Algiers 



ACT I. 
SCRi^E I.—An Apartment in tin 
Enter Othman and a Si.i' 

0th. A stranger, aay'st thou, that inquire of 
Othidan 1 

Siave. He does; and wails adinittance. 

Oth. Did he Cell 
His name and qualit; 1 

Slave. That be declined: 
Bat cali'd himself thy friend. 

Oth. Conduct the stranger to me. 

[Esit Blaye. 
Perhaps some worthy citizen, returned 
Prom voluntary eiile^ to Algiers, 
Once kniwn in happier days. 



My honoured friend ! 

Sadi. Stand oiF— pollute m 
These honest arms, though w 



Thys 



dain 



a with want, dis- 



;eous trapputga, earned dt loul dn 
forbear lliy rash reproachea ; for 
This habit, which to thy mistEiken eye 
Confirms my guilt, I wear a heart as Irui 
As Sadi's to ray king. 

Sadl Why then beneath 
This cursed roof, this black usurper's pel 
DaHst thou to draw infected air, and hve 
The slave of insolence ! 
O ahamc to dvrell 

With murder, luat, and ropine! did he ni 
Come from the depths of Barea's soUlude 
196 



oX'OOgiC 



BARBAROSSA. 



isauesl 






Did he not then wife hot, adnll'iw.. _^ _, 
Qaze on the Clueeii Zaphini t Ye?, 'cnae lust, 
Lust gave th' infernal whisper (o his eoul, 
And bade him mntder, if be would enjoy ! 
Yet tbou, perniciuus traitor, unabaah'd 
Canst WBBT Iho murderer's bodge. 

Oih. Miatalien man ! 
Yet still I lore thee : 
Still unpTOVok'd b; thy intemperate zeal, 
Could passion prompt me to limnlious speech. 
Bethink thee — might I not reproach thv flight 
With the foul names of fear and perfidy 1 
Didst thou not fly, when Barbarossa's sword 
Reek'd with the blood of thy brave countrymen 
What then did 1 1— Beneath this haled roof, 
In pity la thy widow'd queen 

Sadi. In raty t 

OJA. Yes, Sadi 1 Heaveniswitne53,pitjfiway'cl 

With honest guile T did enrol my name 
In the black list of Barbarussa's friends ; 
In hope, that some propitious hour might 
When heaven would dash the murderer ftom his 

throne, 
4nd give young Selim to his orphan'ii people. 

Sadi. IndeeJl canst thou be true '! 

Oik. By heaven, I am. 

SadL Why then diasemble thus ? 

Gift. Have 1 not told thee 1 
I held it vain, to stem Ihe tyrant's poner, 
By the weak effiirts of an iti-lim'cl lage. 

Sadi, I find thee honest ; and with pride 
Will join thy counsels. 
Can aught, my friend, be done 1 
Can aught be dar'd ! 

Olh. We groan benealh the scom^. 
Tlus very morn, on lalse prelence of vengeanc 
For the foul murder of our honour'd king, 
Five guiltless wretches peiish'd on the rack. 

Sadi. O my devoted country ! 
But say, the widow'd queen — my heart bleeds for 

Olh. Hemm'd round by terrors, 
WWiin this cruel palace, once the seat 
Of every joy, through seven long tediooB years, 
She mourns her murder'd lord, her eiil'd son, 
Her people lallen : the murderer of her lord. 
Returning now from conquest o'er the Moors, 
Tempts her to marriage ; but with noble firmness, 
SuipasHne female, she rejects his vows, 
Scorning uie honid union. Meantime he, 
With ceaseless hate, pursues her exil'd son, 
"The virtuous youth, even into foreign climes. 
Ere this, perhaps, he bleeds. A muS'ring ruffian 
Ib sent lo watch his steps, and plunge the dagger 
Into his guiltless breast. 

SoiU. Is this thy iailh ! 
Tamely to witness to such deeds of horror I 
Give me thy poignard 1 lead me lo the tyrant. 
What thougli surrounding guards— — 

Olh. Repress thy rare. 
Thou wilt alarm the pflace, wilt involve 
Thyself, thy friend, in ruin. Haste thee hence ; 
Haste to the remnant of our loyal fiiends. 
And let maturer coundla rule thy zeaL 

Sadi. yetletuflne'erforeetoorprince'swrongs: 
Remember, Othman, tajid let vengeance rise) 
How in the pangs of death, and m his gore 
Well 'ling, WB found our pnnce ! 



Otk. I 






But haste, and seek 



Near to the western port Almanior dwells. 

Yet anseduc'd by Barbarosea's power. 

He will disclose to thee, if aught be heard 

Of SoUm'a safety, or (what more I dread) 

Of Selim's death. Thence best may our resolves 

Be drawn hereafter. But let caalion guide tiiee. 

Sadi. I obey thee. 
Near to the western port, thou say'st 1 

Olh. Even there- 



I would not have thee found within these walls. 

[FtimrislK 
And hark — these warlike sounds proclaim ths 

approach 
Of the proud Barbarossa, with his train. 

Begone 

Sadi. May dire disease and pestilenca 
Hang o'er his steps !— Farewell — Remember, 

Othman, 
Thy queen's, thy prince's, and thy coanlry's wrong, 
[Exit. 
them be contempt my lot ! 
Enler BihhihOss*, Guards, ^c. 
Valiant Othman, 

impai'd 1 



Olh. When I fo 



Oik. M^ lord, they ai 

Bar, Did not the rack extort confession from 

Oth. They died obdurate; while the melting 

Wept at their groans and anguish. 

Bar. Curse on their womanish hearts I 
But why sits 

That sadness on thy brow ? for oft I find Ihee 
Musing and sad ; while joy for my return. 
My sword victorious, and the Moors o'crthTown, 
Rounds through all my palace, 

Olh. Mighty warrior I 
_ he soul, intent on offices of love, 
Will oft neglect or scorn the weaker proof, 
Which smifes or speech can give. 

-, Well: be It so. 
To guard Algiers from anarchy's misrule, 
I sway the regal sceptre. 
But 'lis strange, 

That wlieUj with open arms, I would receive 
Young Selim; would restore the crown, whith 

death 
Reft from his father's head — he scorns my boun^. 
. "«, ■ 
eeding country, 

Enlcr Ala DIN. 
Aladin. Brave prmce, I bring thee UdingB 



Of high. _ 

Young Sell _ 

Oth. Selim no more! 

Bar. Why that astonishment 



lo Algiers and (hee. 



Bar. From Christian dogs t 



ic.t,d=, Google 



BARBAROSSA. 



0th. How 1 league with infidels ! 

Aladin. And there iield council with the haugh- 
ty Spaniard, 
fo conquer and dethrone thee ; but in vain : 
For in a dark encounter with two slaves, 
Wherein the one fell h,y hig jouthful arm, 
SeKm at length was elaitL 

Bar. Ungrateful boy I 
Oft have I covirted him to meet mj kindness ; 
ButBtillin vain; heahunn'd me like a pestilence; 
Not couM I e'er behold him, since the ^own 
Cover'd his manly cheek. — How many years 
Numbered he % 

Oth. I think, scarce thirteen, when his &tber 



Andn. 



': Othme 



Of undissembled service, Well I know, 

Thy long experienc'd Ikith hath placed thee high 

In the queen B couSdeuco: 

Othman, she must be won. 

Plead thou my cause of love: 

Make her but mine. 

And snch nnsought reward shall crovi 

As shall outsoai thy wishes, 

Otk. Mighty king, 
Wheta daly bids, I go. 

Bar, Then haste thee, Othman, 



Each purpose of my soul 1 Why these suIIed 

Irene. Let not these tears otiend my talhers 

They are the tears of pity. From the quesn 
I come, thy suppliant. 

Bar. What Bouldst thou urge'l 

Irene. Thy dread return from war, 
And profier'd love, have open'd every vround. 
The soft and lenient hand of time had clos'd. 
If ever gentle pity touch'd thy heart. 
Urge not thy hareh command 
To see her ; her distracted soul is bent 
To mourn in soHtude. She asks no more. 

Bair, She mocks my love. Had not vrar, 
And great ambition, rall'd me from Algiers, 
Ere this, my power had reach'd what she denies 
But there 's a cause, which touches on my peace, 
And bids me brook no more her false delays, 

Irene. Oh, frown not thus ! Sure, pity ne'er 



desei 
A parent's frown I but loo 
Let thy consenting pity m 
And heal the woes of weeping majesty. 



revot 



irof h> 



Hath reach'd her ^ 

Tel! her, I come, home on the wings of lore! — 

Haste — fly — I follow thee. [Exit Othman. 

Now, Alailin, 

Now fortune bears us to the wish'd-for port : 

This was the rock I droaded. Dost not think 

Th' altempt was greatly daring "i 

Aladin. Bold as needful. 
What booted it, to cut the old serpent oli] 
While the ToUng adder nested in his pkice^ 

Bar. True: Algiers is mine. 
Without a rival. 
Yet I wonder mueh, 
Otnar'lretums not: Omar, whom I sent 
On this high trust. I fear, 'tis he hath &]len. 
Didst thou not say, two slaves encounler'd Selim 1 

Mtdin. Ay, two j tis rumonr'd so. 

Bar, And that one fell '\ 

Madin. Even so :— -by Setim's hand ; while his 
companion 
Planted Ms happier steel m Selim's heart. 

Bar. Omar, I fear, is fallen. From mj right 

i giive Ay signet to the trusty slave ; 
And bade him send it, as the certain pledge 
Of Selim's death ; if «cJmess or captivity, 
Orwayward fette, should thvrart his quick rcttim. 

Abtdin. The rumcur yet is yoniig; perhaps 
^reruns 
The trusty slave's approach. 

Bar. Well WMt the event. 
Meantime nve out, that now the widow'd queen 
I^h dried Tier tears, prepar'd to crown my love 
By marriage rites; s;TeBd wide the flattering tale: 
^r, if persuasion win not her consent. 
Power aliall compel. 

This night my will devotes to least and joy. 
For conquest o'er the Moor. Hence, Aiadiii, 
And see the night-watch close tiie palace round. 
Now to the queen. [Ssii Alsqin. 

Enter Irene, 
Mr wayward daughter— Still withlhyfbllv thwart 






ry;r. 



s that gushing tear'? 
shall Irene taste of peace. 
While poor Zaphira mourns. 

" Dry up thy tears. What I damp the ge- 
neral triumph, 
That echoes through Algiers I which now shall 

pierce 
The vaulted heaven, as soon as fame shall spread 
Young Selim's death, my empire's Mttore^ fee. 
Irene. O generous Selim ! {Weeja. 

Bar. Ah r there 's more in this ■? 
Tell me, Irene:— on thy duty, tell me, 
Why, at this detested name of Selim, 
Afresh thy sorrow streams ■? 

Irene. Yes, 1 will tell thee. 
For he is gone, and dreads thy hate no more; 
My lather knows, that scarce five moons are past, 
Since the Moors sdz'd and sold me at Oran, — 
A hopeless captive in a for^gn clime. 

Bar. Too well I know, and rue the fetal day. 
But what of this 1 

h-ene. Oft have I told thee. 
How, midst the throng, ayouth appeared : his eye 
Bright as Oie momine star. 
Bar. And was it Selim 1 
Did he redeem thee 1 
Irene, With unroaring hand 
le paid th' allotted ransom : at his fe 
Dissolv'd in tears of gratitude and joy 
But when \ told my quahtj and birth, 
He started at the name of BarbarossaS 
And thrice turn'd pale. Yet, with recovery miU, 
io Algiers," he cried ; " protect my mother, 
be to her what Selim is Co thee." 

father, was the generoUs youth, 

'd With the d< 

Bar. Amazement chills me ! 
Was this thy unknown ftiend conceal'd firom mel 
False— faithless child ! 

Irene, Could gratitude do less % [me 

He said, thy w»th parsa'd him ; thence conjur'd 
Not to reveal his name. 

Bar. Thou treacherous maid ! 
To stoop to freedom from thy fether'Bfoe! 

Irene. Alas, my father I 
He never was thy foe. 






io.i,d=, Google 



BARBAROS8A. 



Bar. WiiallpleadforSelim' 
O uttwari ! traiWess to thy lather's glory ! 
Hence from my sight J 

Bowarc thee ; —shun the queen : nor laint her ■ 
With SeUm's fitle.— -Yea she shall crown myloi 
Or by our prophet, she shall dieaj my power. 

[Exit. 

Irene. Unhappy queen ' 
To what new 



Shebi 






In her ilear father'E tent ; thither, good queen, 
■ ■■ ed thee, while suspicion sleepf 
wnins father pour his rage 



le Zaphira, 

Let the slarni beat; I'll weep and pm;, till she, 
Bereft of her lov'd bnl — of every joy bereft, 
4.nd heaven forget.niy fether e'er was cruel. 

[Exit. 

ACT II. 

SCENE I. — Another Apartment. 

Enter Zaphiiu. 

Zaph. When ahail 1 be at peace'! O righteoas 

Heaven, 

Strengthen my tainting soul, which fein would 

To confidence in thee I — But woes on woes 
O'erwhelm me! first my husband— now my son ! 
Both dead l^hoth slaughter'd by the bloody hand 
Of Barharossa ! 



O feithliil Othman ! 

Our feura were true : — my Selim is no more 1 

Olh. Has then the fatal secret reach'd thine ea 
Inhuman tvrant! 

Zaph. Strike him. Heaven, with thunder ! 
Nor let Zaphira donbt thy Providence, 

Olh. 'Twas that we fear'd. Oppoee not Hi 
.'B high w" 



And wait Ihe h£^(Mer hour, v-uci. .i.iiui:tii.uti 
Shall weep no more. My honour'd queen, 
ThL king— 

Zapk. Whom styl'st thou king 1 

Olh. 'Tie Barbaroasa. — 

Zaph. Tyrant 1 
Does he assume the name of king 1 

0th. He does. 

Zapk. title vilely purchas'd ! by the blood 
Of innocencel by treachery and murder ! 
May Heaven, incens'd, pour down Lts vengeance 

Blast all ills joys, and turn them into horror ; 
Till freniy ttsa, and bid him curse the hour 
That gave his crimes their birth! My faithful 

Othman, 
Mysoleaurvivinaaimfin't! can no means be found, 
To fly these blni^'ning horrors that surround me T: 

(Uh. That hope is vain ! The tyrant knows 
thy hate. 
Hence, day and night, his watchfid guards 
Surround thee. Rouse not then his anger ; 
Let soft persuasion and mild eloquence 
Redeem that Uberty, which stem rebuke 
Would rab thee of for ever. 

Zaph. Cruel task ! 
An injured queen 



To kneel for liberty! and, oh! lo whoml 
Even to the murderer of her lord and soni 
O, perish first. Zaphira I yes, I'll die ! 
For what is life to me 1 my dear, dear lord 1 
My hai^ees child ! — yes, 1 will follow yon. 

Oth. Wilt thou not see him, then! 

Zaph. I will not, Othman ; 
Or if 1 do, with bitter imprecation. 
More keen than poison shot from serpent's tongues, 
I'll pour my curses on him I 

OtK. Will Zaphira 
Thus meanly sinli in woman's fruitless rage, 
When she should wake revenge "i 

Zaph. Revenge ^— O IcU mc— 
Tell me but how ? what can a helpless woman 1 

Oth. Gain but the tyrant's leave, and reach thy 
ftlher: 
Pour thy complaints before hun; let thy wrongs 
Kindle his indignation to porsue 
This vile usurper, till unceasing war 
Blast his ill-gotlen power, 

Zaph. Ah, say'st thou, Othman 1 
Thy words have shot like lightning through my 

And all my soul's on fire! — Thou feithful friend ! 
Yes— with more gentle speech I'll sooth hia pride — 
Regain my freedom ; reach my father's tents; 
There paint my counticss woes. Hia kindling 

Shall wake the ■valleys into honest vengeance : 
The sudden storm shall pour on Btirbarossa; 
And every glowing warnor steep his shaft 
in dcadher poison, to revenge my wrongs. 

Oth. There spoke the queen. But as ihon 
lov'st thy freedon 
Touch not on Sd!"!'. ^Mtli 
And passion mo 

Zaph. My murder'd eon ! Yes to revenge thy 

I'll speak a language which my heart disdains. 
Oth. Peace, peace ! the tyrant comea : now in 

Plead for thy freedom, hope for just revenge, 
And check each ri^ng passion. [Exit Othuan. 
Enter BARStRossA. 

Bar. Hail, sovereign fair ! in whom 
Beauty and majesty conspire to charm 1 
Behold the conqu'ror. 

Zaph. O Barharossa! 

more the pride of conquest e'er can charm 
_ ,y widow'd hearn With my departed lord 
My love lies buried 1 

Then turn thee to some happier fair, whose heait 
May crown thy growing love with love wncere ; 

Bar. Love ne'er SioDld die : 
Tis thesoul'scordial;— 'tis the fount of lifbj 
Therefore should spring elemai in tiie breast ■ 
One 3ub)ect tost, another should succeed ; 
And all our life be love. 

Zaph. Urge me no more : thou might'st with 

Woo the cold marble weeping o'er a tomb. 
To meet thy wishes I But, if gen'roas kve 
Dwell in thy breast, vouchfflfe me proof sincere ; 



I'sdeath. Thysoulwjllkindle, 
-■ It wiU consume 



n thy breas 



„ Google 



200 



BARBAROSSA. 



Of empire, for an Arab's wanii'ring tent, 

Where the mock chieftain leads his vagrant tribes 

Prom plain to plain, and faiiitlj shadows out 

The majesty of kings 1— Far other joys 

Here shall attend thy call. 

To thee, eialled feir! Bubmieaive realms 

Shall bow the neck; and swarthy kings and 

from the for distant Niger and the Nile, 
Drawn captive at my cony'ring chariot wheels, 
Shall kneel before thee. 

Zaph. Pomp and power are toys, 
Which even the mind at ease tnay well disdain ; 
Bat, ah I what mockery is the tinsel pride 
Of splendour, when, 1^ wa^ng woes, the mind 
Lies desolate within; — such, such is minel 
O'erwhelm'd with ills, and dead toevery joy ; 
Ehivy me not this last reqnest, to die 
In my dear fether's tents ! 

Bar. Thy suit is ™in— 

Zaph. Thus kneeling at thy feet— I do beseech 

Bar. Thou thankless fiiir I 
Thus to repay tJie labours of my lovel 
Had I not seiz'd the throne whrai Selim died. 
Ere this, thy foes had laid Algiers in ruin ; , 
I dieck'd the warring powers, and gave you peace. 
Mate thee but mine, 

I will descend the throne^ and call thy son 
From Vanishment to empuB. 

Zaph. Oh my heart ! 
Can I bear this 'i — 

Inhuman tyrant I Curses on thy head ! 
May dire remorse and anguish Munt Ihy throne, 
And gender in thy bosom feli despairl 
Despair, as deep as mine! 

Bar. What means Zaphira ? 
What means this burst of grief 7 

Zaph. Thou fell destroyer ! 
Had not guilt Hteel'd thy heart, awak'ning con- 



To turn theo into stone !— Relentless man ! 
Who did the bloody deed 1 Oh tremble, guilt, 
Where'er thouartl—Lookon me,— tellme, tyrant! 
Who slew my blameless son 1 

Bar. What envious tongue 
Hath dar'd to taint my name with slander'? 
Thy Sehm Utes; nay nrore, he soon shall reign. 
If tiion consent to bless me. 

Zaph. IMeser! Oh, never— Sooner would I roam 
An unknown eiile throueh the torrid ciimea 
Of Afric, sooner dwell with wolves and tigers. 
Than mount with thee my murder'd Selim'e 
throne 1 

Bar. Rash queen, forbearl think on thy captive 

Remember, that within these palace walls 
I am omnipotent :— yield thee then 
Avert my gathering horrors that su 
And dread the power incens'd. 

Zaph. Eteresthy hcenlioustongne pollulemine 



No tyrant's threat can awe the free-born soul. 
That greatly dares to die. [Exit Zaphira 

Bar. Where shiuld she learn the tale of Selun's 
death? 
Could Othman dare to tell it 1 If he did, 
My rage shall sweep hun, swifler than the whirl 

LStant deatii I— 



O Aladint 

Timely thou com'st, to taae my lab'ring thought. 
That swells with indignation and despair. 
This stubborn woman 

Ahidin. What, unconquer'd stiin 

Bar. The news of Selim's fele hath reach'd ber 

Whence could this come 1 

Aladin. I can resolve the doubt. 
A female slave, attendant on Zaphira, 
O'echeard the messenger who brought the tale. 



^_.^ _,_ le defies my power ; 

And talks of death, as'if her female form 
inshnn'd some hero's spirit. 

Aladin. Let her rage foam. 
1 bring thee tidmgs tlSt will ease thy pain. 

Bar. Saj^'st thou1— Speak on— O ^ve me 
quick relief ! 

Aladin,. The gallant youth is come, who slew 

Bar. Who, Omar 'i 

Alad.in. No; unhappy Omar fell 
By Selun's hand. But Achmet, whom he join'd 
His brave associate, so the youth bids tell (hee, 
Reveng'd his death, by Selim's, 

Bar. Gallant youth ! 
Bears he the signet 1 

Aladin. Ay. 

Bar. That speaks him true.—Conduot huB, 
Aladin. [Exit Ai.iDit. 

This is beyond my hope. The secret pledge 
iUstor'd, prevents sus[ridon of the deed. 
While it confirms it done 

EnterBF.i.iM.difguiseda3 AcmOET, awl At-inis. 

Selira,. Hail, mighty Earbarossa I as the pledgo 

Of Selun'sdeath, behold thy ring restor'd:— 
That pledge will speak the rest. 

Bar. Rise, valiant youth ! 
But first, no more a slavB— I give thee freedom. 
Thou art the youth, whom Omar (now no more' 
Join'd his companion in this brave attempt ■? 



ound thee, 



With that foni n: 



—Tyrant, dread'st tho^ 



I'h' all-seeing eye of Heaven, its lifted thunder. 
And all (Jie redd'ouig vengeance which it stores 
rororimee like itime 7— -Yet know, Zaphira acorn 

thee. 
Though robb'd by thee of every dear support. 



how you sped, — Wher* 



Selim. ..... 

Bar. Then teU 
found ye 
That insolent? 

Seiim. We found him at Oran, 
Plotting deep mischief to thy throne and people. 

Bar. Well ye repaid tJie traitor.- 

Selim. As we ouglil. 
While night drew on, weleaplupon our prey. 



d the I 






Pnll at his heart brave Omar ai . „ . 

Which Selim shunning, wrench'd it fromliisliand 
Then plung'd it in his breast. I hasted on. 
Too late to save, yet I reveng'd my friend; 
My thirsty dagger with repeated blows 
Search'd every artery : they fell together. 



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201 



liaBjang in foWs of mortal enmity; 
And tbiu ill frowns expir'd. 

Bar. WbJI hast thou sped : 
Thjr dagger did its office, feithfol Achmct ! 
Anil high reward ehall wait thee. — One thing 

Be the thought fortnnale !— Go, seek the queen. 
Foe know, the rumour of her Sehm's death 
Hath reach'd her ear : hence dark suspicions rise, 
Glandngat me. Go, tell her, tlial thou aaw'st 
Her son expire ;— that, with his dying breath, 
He did conjure her to receive my vows, 
And give her country peace. 

Enter Othman, 
Most weicoma, Othnian ; 
Behold this gailunt etronger. He hath done 
The state good service. Let some high reward 
Await him, such as may overpay bis zeaZ. 
Conduct him to the queen, for he liath news 
Worthy her ear, from her departed son: 
Such aa may win her love — Come, Aladin, 
The ban-quet waits our presence ; — festal joy 
Laughs in the mantling goblet ; and the night, 
Illumin'd by the taper's dWing beam, 
Rivals departed day. 

[Exeunt BAHBiROBSi and AlaDiN. 

Selim. What anxious thought 
Rolls in thine eye, and heaves thy lab'ring breast 1 
Why ioin'st thou not the loud oicess orjoy, 
That riots through the palace t 

0th. Dar'st thou tell me, 
On what dark errand thou art here 1 

Selim. I dare. 
Dost thou not perceive the savage 



Thou might'st as well bring the devoted lamb 
Into the tiger's den, 

Seiim. But I'll bring him 
Hid in such deep disguise, aa shall deride 
Suspicion, though she wear the lynx's eyes. 
Not even thyself couldst know him, 

Ofh. Yea, sure : loo sure, to hazard such ai 
'ful trial. 



. Yetse 



Iviug yea 



In tedious esilc, may have wrought such change 
Of voice and feature, in the slate of youth, 
As might elude thine eye, 

Olh. Wo IJma can blot 
'he mem'ry of his sweet maiestie mien, 
The lustre of his eye ! besidcB, he wears 
A mark indelible, a beauteous sear, 
Made on his forehead by a furious pard, 
Which, rushing on his mother, Selim slew. 

Selim. A scar 1 

Olh. Ay, on his forehead. 

Selim. What, like this ! [Z/^ng his ticrban. 

Oik. Whom do I see 1— am I awake 1— my 
prince ! [Kneels. 

My honour'd, honour'd king I 

Selim. Rise faithful Othman : 
Thus let me thank thy truth I [Embraces him. 

Olh. O happy hour I 

Selim. Why dost thou tremble thus! Why 
grasp my hand 1 
And why that ardent gaze ^ Thou can'st not 

Olh. Ah, no I I see thy sure in every hne.— 

How did my prince escape the murd'rer's hand t 

Selim. I wrench'd the dagger from him; and 



Deform my visage 7 Read'st not in mine eye 
Remorseless fury 1 1 am Sehm's niurd'rer, 

Oth. Selim's murd'rer ! 

Selim. Stan not from me. 
My dagger thirsts not but for regal blood — 
Why tKs amazement 1 

Oth, Amamment! No-~'tis well; 'tis as it 
should he- 
He was indeed a foe to Barbaroesa, 

Selim. And thereforo to Algiers, Was it not 

Why dost thou paused What passion shakes 
thy frame 1 
Olh. Fate, do thy worst ! I can no more dis- 
semble; 
Can I unmov'd behold the murd'rinff ruffian, 
Bmear'd with my prince'sblood 1 Go, tell ibe ty- 

Othnutn delies Ms power ; that, tired with Ufa, 
He dares his bloody hand, end pleads to die. 

Selim. What, didst thou love this Selim? 

Oth. AU men lov'd him. 
He was of such unmix'd and blameless quality, 
That envy, at his praise, stood mute, nor dar'd 
To sully his feir name I Remorseless tyrant ! 

Selim. I do commend thy feilh. And since 
thou lov'at him, 
I'll whisper to thee, that with honest guile 
I havedeceiv'd this tyrant, Barbarossa: 
Selim is yet ahve. 

Oth. Alive! 

Selim. Nay, more— 
Selim is In Al^rs, 

Oth. Impossible ! 

Selim. Nay, if thou doabt'st, I'U bi 
ther, straight. 

Olh Not for an empire I 
Voi,,!. . 3 



gave back 



bnns. The n 
aketlisring, 



The tyraiifs signet,— Take tiiis ring, he cried. 
The sole return my dying hand can make thee 
' -Itempt : this pledge rei 



Will prove thee slidn. Safe may'st thou ai 



Al. 



Unknown to ali,— This said, th' assassin died. 
Oih. But how to gain admittance, thus un- 
known ? 
Selim. Disguis'd as Selim'a murderer I come ; 
Th' accomplice of the deed : the ring reslor'd, 
Gain'd credence to my words, 

Olh. Yet, ere thou cam'st, thy death was ru- 

mour'd here. 
Selim, I apread the flatt'ring tale, and sent it 

That babbling rumour, like a lying dream, 
Might make belief more easy, Tdl me, Othman, 
And yet I trpmble to approach the theme, — 
How fares my mother 1 does she still retain 
Her native greatness 1 

Olh. SUU;— In vain the tyrant 
Tempts her to marriage, though with impious 

threats 
Of death or violation. 

Selim. May kind Heaven 
Strengthen her virtue, and by me reward it ( 
When shall I see her, Othmanl 

Oih. Yet, my prince, 
tremble for thy presence. 



1. Letni 






SuUy thy virtue; 'Us the lot of guilt [feati 

To tremble. What hath innocen™ to do with 

Olh. Still my heart 
Forbodes some dire event, — O quit these walls ! 

■im. Not till a deed be done, which eveiy ty- 
Shall tremble when he hears. [rant 



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BARBAROSSA. 



Olh What means my prince f (blood, 

Sehw.. To take just vengeance for a father's 
A mother's sufferinga, and a people's groans. 

Oth. Alas, my prince ! thy single arm is weak 
To combat'nmltltudes. 

SeUm. Therefore I come, 
Clad in this murd'rer's guise. — Ere morning shines, 
This, Othman!— thi^-shall drink the lyrant'a 
blood. [iS'iotos a dogger. 

Oik, Heaven shield thy life. — Let caution rule 
Thv zeal ! 

Selim. Nay. think not th^ I come 
Blindly impell d by fury or despair ; 
Pot I liave seen our friends, and parted now 
From Sadi and Almanior. 

Olh. Say — what hope 1 
My soul ia all attention— 

Sdim. Mark me, then | 
A chosen band of citizens this night 
Will storm the palace: while the ^lul 



By one wide slaughter. I, mean time, have gain'tl 
ITie jolace, and will wait th' appointed hour, 
To f uard Zaphlm from the tyrant's rage. 
Amid the deathfu! uproar. 

Oik. Heaven protect thee— 
'TiB dreadful— what's the hom;1 

Selim. I left our friends 
In secret council. Ere the dead of night, 
Brave Sadi will report their last resolves. — 
Now lead me to the queen. — 

Her joy's or fear's escess, would sure betray thee. 
Thou shall not see her, till the tyrant poridi ! 
SeHm I must. — I feel some secret impulse urge 



Do not reveal thyself. — Assume the name 
Of Selim's friend ; sent to confirm her virtue. 
And warn her that he lives. 
Selim. It shall be »i : I yield me to thy will 
Olh. Thou greatly daring youth I May angels 

And guard thy upright purpose I That Algiers 
May reap the hiessinvs of a vu'tuous reign, 
And all tby godlike &ther shine in theeT 
Selim. Oh, thou hast rous'd a thought, on 



And all tby godlike & 

"-"-a.. Oh, thou hast rous'd a thought, 
which rotengfl [herf , 

Mounts with redoubled fire t — Yea, here, even 
Beneath this very roof, my honour'd father 
Shed round his blessings, till accursed treacb'ry 
Stole on his peaceful hour I O, blessed shade 1 

lOVO *'""" 
IgWl 

la daunuess fortitude, unaw'd 
By peril, pain, or death ! that, undismay'd, 
I may pursue the just intent, and dare 
Or biavely to revenge, or bravely die. [Exeunt, 

ACT III. 

SCENE l— The Palace. 

Enter Irene. 

Irene, Can edr-drawn visions mock the waking 



It was his image!— 
This way, sure, he mov'd. 

lung'd I He wears no gentle smiles. 



Butte 



nbisf 



Hcc 



-'Tis 1 



For Othman points him thither, and departs. 
Disguis'd, he seeks the queen: secure, perhaps. 
And heedless of Ihc ruin that surrounds hun. 
0, generous Sehtn ! can I see thee tJius 
And not forewarn such virtue of its falel 
Forbid it, gratitude ! 

Enter Selim. 

Sslim. Be still, ye sighs 1 
Ye strugghng tears of filial love, be still. 
Down, down, fond heart ! 

iTCne. Why, stranger, dost thouwander here? 

Setim, Oh, ruin ! [Skunning her. 

Irene. Bless'dia Irenel Bless'il, if Selim lives! 

Selim. Am I betray'd! 

frene. Betray'd to whom 1 To her 
Whose grateful heart would rush on death to savo 



And thrown the mask of manhood o'er my visage. 
Am I then knovtn 1 

Irene, To none, b"J love and me — 
To me, who late beheld thee at Gran : 
Who saw thee here, beset with unseen peiil. 
And flew to save the guaidian of my honour. 

Selim, Thou sum of every worth! Thou hea- 
ven of sweetness I 
How could I pour forth all my soul before thee. 
In vows of endless truth I It must not be I 
This is my destin'd goal ! The man^on drear, 
Wheregnef and anguish dwell I where bitter tears, 
And Mghs, and lamentations, choke the voice, 
And quench the flame of love I 

Irene, Yet, virtuous prince. 
Though love bo mlent, gratitude may speak. 
Hear, then, her voice, which warns thee from 

these walls. 
Mine be the grateful task, to tell the queen 
Her Selim Uves. Ruin and death enclose thee. 
O, speed thee hence, while yet destruelian sleeps' 

Selim. Would it were possible • 

Irene. What can prevent itl 

Selim, Justice! Fate, and justice 
A murdar'd father's wrongs 1 

Irene, Justice, said'slthouf 
That word hath struck me, likeapeal of thunder! 
■Thine eye, which wont to melt with gentle love, 
Now glares with terror t Thy approach by night — 
Thy dark disguise, thy looks and fierce demeanour, 
Yes, all conspre to tell me, I am lost ! 
Ah ! prince, take heed t I have a father too ! 
Think, Selim, what Irene must endure. 
Should she be guilty of a Mher's bkiod. 

Selim. Come on, then. Lead me to him. Glut 
thine eye 
With Selim's blood— 

Irene. Was e'er distress like mine I 
O, Selim, can I see my father perish ! 
auit, O iiuit these walls ! 

Heaven will ordain some gentler, happier means, 
To heal thy woes ! Thy dark attempt is M^ 
With horror and destruction ! Generous prince t 
Resign thy dreadful purpose and depart I 



:e Zaphira 
ot, sure, d 
re of 3 parting tear 1 



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BARBAROSSA. 



!. Go, then, itai give her peace. 



theite 



alls 



As soon as morning ehincs. Else, though tlespair 
Dcire me to matlnBaa j jet— to save a father ! 
O, Seljm ! spare t,iy tongue the horrid sentence 
Fly I ere destruction seize thee. [Exit Irene. 

Selim. Death and ruin ! 
Must I then flyl what! toward like, betray 
My father, mother, friends I Van terrors, hence 
Danger looks hig t^ iear's deluded eye ; 
But courage, on the heights and steips of &te, 
Dares snatch her glorious (lorpoae from the edge 
Of peril; and, whde eick'niiig caution shrinks. 
Or, self-hetra^'d, ^Is headlong down the steep, 
Calm resolution, unappall'd, can walk 



How stifle the warm transports of mv heart, 
That pants at her approach ! 
Who wails Zaphiral 



Save. Whence this intrusion, stionger, a 

Deslin'd to rest 1 

Selim. I come to seek the queen, 
On matter of such import, as may claim 
Her speedy audience. 

Slope. Thy request ia vain. 
Even now the queen hath heard the mournful tale 
Of bee son'a death, and dcown'd in grief she lies. 
Thou canst not see her. 

iS^im. Tell the queen, I come 
On message from her dear, departed son; 
And bring his last request, 

Save. I'll basic to tell her. [Exil. 

Selim. O, ill-dissembling heart ! my every hmb 
TramblBB with grateful terror ! 'Would to Heaven 
I had not cornel Some look, or starting tear. 
Will sure betiay me. Honest guile assist 
My&lt'ring tongue! 

Enter Zaphirj. 

Zaph. Wbero ia this pious stranger 1 
Say, generous youth, whose pity leads thee thus 
To seek the weeping mansions of distress ! 
Didsl thou behold in death my hapieaa son 1 
Didsl thou receive my Selim's parting breath f 
Did he remember me 1 

Selim. Most hononr'd queen I 
Thy son^ — forgive these gushing teara that flow 
To see distress like thine 1 



What of ray son % Say, didst thou see him die 1 
SeHm, By Barbarossa's dread command I come. 

To tell thee that theae eyes alone beheld 

Tiw son expire. 

Zaph. itelentlcBS fate !-^that I should be denied 

1'he mournful privilege to see him die 1 

To clasp him in the agony of death. 

And catch his parting soul 1 Oh, teil me all, 

All that he said and kiok'd 1 Deep in my heart 



Each djine whisper c 



vords offend— what if he 



Go, tell my bapltss mother, that her 



Zaph. O, basely lalsel 
Thou art some cKeping slave to Burbarossa, 
Sent to surprise my ansuapecling heart I 
Vilo slave begone ! — My son betray me thus ! 
Could he have e'er oonceiv'd so base a purpose, 
My griefs for him should end in great disdain I- 
But he was brave, and acorn'd a thought so vile I 
Wretched Zaphira! How art thou become 
Thosport of slavesl- 
iSfJiin. Yet hope tor peace, unhappy queen I 
Tby woes 
May yet have end. 

Zaph. Why weep'st thou, crocodile? 
Thy treacherous tears are vain. 
Sdim. My tears are honest. 



I tell 

Perhaps— thy bol yet lives. 

Zaph. Lives ! O, gradous Heaven ! 
00 I not dream! say, stranger, — didat thou tell me, 
Perhaps my Selim lives!— What do I ask 1 
Wild, wild, and fruitless hope! — What mortal 

Can e'er re-animate his mangled corse. 
Shoot life into the cold and silent tomb, 
Or hid the ruthless grave give up its dead 1 

SeUm. O, powerftl nature ! Inou wilt sure be- 
tray me ! [Aside. 
Thy Selim lives : for since his rumour'd death, 
' saw him at Oran. 

Zaph. O, generous youth, who art thou*? — From 
wtet clime 
Comes such exalted virtue, as dares give 
A pause to giief hke mine 1 

Selim. A friendless youth, selfbanish'd with 
thy son ; 
Long bis companion in distress and danger: 
One who rever'd thy worth in prosp'rous days, 

nd more reveres thy sirt.uc in distress. 

Zaph. O, gentle stranger I — Mock notmywoes, 
But tell me truly, — does my Selim live 1 

Selim. He does, by Heaven I 

Zaph, generous Heaven! thou at length 

My bitterest pangs, if my dear Selim Uves ! 
And does he stillremember 
His Mher's wrongs, and mine. 
Selim. He bade me tell thee, 
That in his heart indelibly are alamp'd 
His Mher's wrongs, and thine : that he but waits 
Till awful justice may onsheath her sword, 
And lust and murder tremble at her frown ! 
That Ull the arrival of that happy hour, 



Zaph. Eternal blessings crown my vL 
Selim. Much hononty queen, ferewell, 
Zopk. Not yet,— -not yet ; — indulge a mother's 

In thee, the kind companion of his giiefe, 
Metbinks I see my Selim stand before me. 

't not yet. A thousand fond requests 
Crowd on my mind. Wishes, and prayers, and 

teara. 
Are all 1 have to give. O, bear hun those I . 

im. Take comfort, then; for knowgthy son 



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204 BAB 

To rescue thee, wotild Heed at every vein I- 
Gid her, he aa.m, yet hope we may beblees'd 
Bid her remember that the ways of Heaven, 
Though dark, are juat : that olt some guardian 

Atlends unsuen, 

But if high Heaven decrees our M I— Oh bid her 
Pitmly to wail tlve stmlte, prepar'd alike 
To live or die I and then he wept, a9 I do. 

Zapit, O, righteous Heaven ! 
Protect hia tender years ! 

Be thou lus ^uide through dangers and distress ! 
Soften the ngoors of hS cruel exile, 
And lead him to his throne ! [Exit. 

Sdim. Now, swelling heart, 
[ndulga the luxury of grief ! flow, tears ! 
And rain down transport in the shape of sorrow 1 
Yes, I have sooth'cl her woes; have found her 

And, to have given this respite to her pangs, 
O'erpaya all pain and peril! — Powerful virtoe! 
How infinite thvjoys, when even thy grjefe 
Are pleasing ! — Thou, superior lo the frowns 
Of fclc, canst pour thy sunshine o'er the soul. 
And brighten wo to rapture 1 

EtiIbt Othman and Sini. 
Hononr'd friends ! 
How goes the nightl 

Sadt, 'Tis well nigh midnight. 

Oth. What i in tears, my prince ? 

Selim. But tears of joy ^ for I have si 



1 Za- 



nto her breast : 

le, valiant friends ; 

They have but harnKiniz'd my sou] ; and wab'd 

All that is man within me, to disdain 

Peril, or death — What tidings fhMn (he city 1 

Sadi. All, all, is rsadv. Our confederate friends 
Bum with impationce, till the hour arrive. 
Selim, Whatiatheaignalof theappointedhour? 
Sadi. The midnight watch ^ves signal of our 
meeting : 
And when the second watch of lughl is rung, 
The work of death begins. 

Selim. Speed, speed, ye minutes ! 
Now let the rising whirlwind shake Alters, 



Sadi. Scarce more than one, 

Selim. Oh, as ye love my life. 
Let your zeal hasten on the great event: 
The tyrant's daughter found, and knew me here, 
And half suspects the cause. 

Oik. Too daring prince, 
Retire with us 1 her tears wilt sure betray thee I 

Selim. What '. leave my helpless mother here 
a prey 
To cruelty and lust— I'll perish first : 
Thia very night the tyrant threatens violence ; 
I'll watch his steps : 111 haunt him through the 

palace: 
And, should he meditate a deed so vile, 
I'll hover o'er him, hke an uii 
And blast him in hia guilt I 

Sadi. Intrejwd prince I 
Worthy of empire !— Yet accept my lift 
My worthless Bte : do thou retire with Othi 
I will protect Zaphtra. 

^Hm. Think'st thou, Sadi, 
That, when the trying hour of peril comes, 
Selim win shrink into a common man ! 



re he to raki, who darea not iMte 
■ - Urge no more: 

; and, if I fall, 
«e vengeance ! — Tod me now, 



Worthless w 
Pre-eminenci _. 
Here shall my 31 
O, Jiiends, let mi 
Where is the tyrant t 

Oik. Revelling at the banquet, 

iSsKm, 'Tis good. Now tell me how our pow 
ers are desUn'd 1 

Sadi. Near every port, a secret band is posted ■ 
By these, the watehiul sentinels must perish : 
The rest is easy ; for the glutted troops 
Lie drown'd in sleep. 

Almanior, with his friends, vrill drcle round 
The avenues of the palace. Othman and I 
Will join our brave confederates (all sworn 
To conquer or to die,) and burst the gat«s 
Of this foul den. Then, tremble, Barbarossa I 

Selim, Oh, how the approach of this great hour 
Fires all my soul I but, valiant fiiends, I chai^ 

Reserve the murd'rer to my just revenge ; 

' '.y poignard claims his blood, 

Oek. Forgive me, prince I [Irene- 

imive my doubts !— Think— should the fidi 
&Zi)ii. Thydoubta are vain, I would not spare 
the tyrant, 

Though the sweet maid lay weeping at my feet ; 

Nay, should he fall by any hand but mine. 

By Heaven I'd think my hononr'd fiither's Wood 

Scarce half reveng'd ! My love, indeed, is strong ! 

But love shall yield to justice ! 
Sadi. Gallant prince, 
ravely reeolv'd ! 
Selim. But is the city quietf 
Sadi. All, all, is hush'd. Throughout the 

empty streets, 
or voice nor sonnd ; as if th' Inhabitants, 
ike the presa^ng herds, that seek the covert 

Ere the loud thunder rolls, had inly telt 

And shunn'd th' impending uproar. 

Oik. There is a solemn horror in the night, too, 

That pleases me ; a general pause through nature : 

The winds are hush'd— 

Sadi. And as I pass'd the beech, 

he lazy billow scarce could lash the shore: 



Selim 



re eastward, o'er the snllen 



ing moon, depriv'd of half her orb, 
_ . . liood ; her beam, well nigh extinct, 
Faintly contends with darkness — [Bell toUi 



Hark 






That tolling bell 1 

Oth. It sounds the midnight watch, 
Sadi. This was the signal— 
ome, Othman, wearocaird: the passing minutes 
Chide our delay: brave Othman, let us lience. 

One last embrace ! — nor doubt, but 
with ^lory 



We so 



1 shall m 



Amid the tumult's rage, remember mercy I 
Stain not a rightoous cause with guiltless blood ! 
Warn our brave friends, that we unsheath th* 

Not to destroy, but save ! nor let blind zeal. 
Or wanton cruelty, e'er turn its edge 
On age or innocence I or bid us strike 

e the most pitying angel in the skies. 
That now looks on us fromTiis bless'd abode, 
Would wish that we should spare. 

Olh. So may we prosper, 
As mercy shall direct us ! 



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BARBAROSSA. 



205 



Mim. Farcwe!!, friends I 

Sadi. Intrepid prince, farewelll 

[Exetini OtaMin and SiDi. 

SeHm, Now sleep and alence 
Brood o'er the taty. — The devoted aentjnel 
Kon takes hia lonely stand, and idl; dreams 
Of that to-moFTon he shall never see. 
In this dread interval, O hu!y thought, 
From outward things descend into myf elf I 
Search deep my heart 1 bring with thee awfrit 

And firm resolve I that in th' approachinc 
Of blood and horror, I may stand unniov'd ; 
Nor fear to strike where jua^ce calls, nords 
To strike where she forbids ! [Exit. 

ACT IV. 
SCENE I— An ApaHmeat in the Palace. 

Bn(er Irene and Aladin. 
Irene. But didst thou tell him, Atadin, my fei 
Brook no delay 1 
Aladin. I did. 
Irene. Why comes he not t 
Oh, what a dreadfiil dream! — 'IVas surely m< 
Than troubled fancy : never was my soul 
Shook with such hideous phantoms t — Still he 

lingers! 
Return, return ; and tell him, that his daughter 
Dies, till she warn him of his thceat'ning ruin, 
Aladin. Behold, he comes. [Exit Aladin. 

Enter BiRBARoasj. fotd Guards. 
Bar. Thou bane of all my joys! 
Same gloomy planet surely ruTd thy birth I 
Even now thy ill tim'd iear suspends the honqoet. 
And damcB (he festal hour. 
Irene. Forgive my fear ! 
Bar. What fear, what phantom hath possess'd 

thy hniin 7 
Irene. Oh, guard thee from the terrors of this 
night; 



Fort 



■. What te 



Aladin. I hasted to inform thee, that even now 
Rounding the watch, I met the brave Abdallah, 
Breathless with ^dings of a rumour dark, 
That young Selim is yet alive — 

Bar. May plagues consume the tongue 
That broach'd the felsebooil I— 'Tia not possible— 
What did he tell thee fiirlberl 

Aladin. More he said not ; 
Save only, that the spreading rumour wak'd 
A spirit of revolt. 

Irene. O, gracious father I 

Bar. The rumour's fidse— And yet, yourcow- 
ard fears 
Infect me !— What I— shall I be terrified 
By midnight visions? — I'll not beheve it. 

Aladin. But this gathering rumoor 

Think but on that my lord. 

Bar. Infernal darkness 
Swallow the slave that rais'd it ! — Hark Ihee. 



Retire, and trust thee to th? faithful guards — 
See not this Achmet. 

Bar. Not sec him 1 
If he prove felse,— if hated Selim live, 
Fll heap such vengeance on him 

Irene. Mercy ! mercy ! 

Bar. Mercy to whom 1 

Irene. To me— and to thyself : 
To him— *o all.— Thou think'st I rave; yet true 
My visions are, as ever prophet utter'd, 
When Heaven inspires his tongue ! 

3ar. Ne'er did the moon-struck madman rave 
with dreams 
More wild than thine! — Get thee to rest; 
Call Achmet hither. 

Irene. Thus prostrate on my knees :— O see 









:t the blackest dangers undismay'd. 
Irene. Let not my father check with slem re- 

The warning voice of nature. For even now, 
ReUr'd to rest, soon as I clos'd mine eyes, 
A, horrid vision rose — Methought I saw 
founa Selim rising from the sdent tomb : 
Mangled and bloo!^ was his corse ; his hair 
Clotted with sore ; his glaring eyes on lire '. 
Dreadful he shook a dagger in bis hand. 
By some mysterious power he rose in air. 
When, lo ! at his command, this yawning roof 
Was cleft in twain, and gave Ihe phantom en- 
Swift he descended with terrific brow, 
Rush'd on my ruanlless btber at the banquet, 
And plung'd his furious dagger in thy breast ! 

Bar. Wouldst thou ap^ me by a brainsick 
vision 1 
Get thee to rest. 

Irene. Yet hear me, dearest father 1 

Bar. Provoke me not. — 

Irene. What shall I say, to move him ^ 
Merciful Heaven, instruct me what to do I 
Enter Aladin. 

For, What mean thy looks 7— Why doat tho i 
gaze so wildly t 



There is no danger near: — or, if there lie, 
Achmet is innocent ! 

Bar. Off, IranUc wretch ! 
Hence — to thy chamber, on thy duty hence % 

Irene. Cruel fete ! 
What have I done 1 — Heaven shield my dearest 

Mher! 
Heaven shield the innocent— undone Irene ■ 
~?hate'er the event, thy doom is misery, 

[Exit Irene, 

Bar. Herwordsaro wrapt in darkness.— Aladin, 
PorthwithscndAchmethillier.-Then, with speed. 
Double the sentinels. [Exit Ai^adtb. 

Infernal guilt ! 

How doat thou rise in every hideous shape 
Of rage and doubt, suspicion and despair, 
To rend my soul ! 

Enter Selim and iieo Gaardt. 



A1 



11, the slave 's 



;. Ha !- 
Bar. Dost thou pausi 

ifeJtm. That Barbarossa should suspect my 

truth! ■ . 

Bar. Take heed t for by the hovnng powen 
of vengeance. 



„ Google 



206 



H I do find thee Ireach'rous, I'll doom thee 
To deatfi and torment, such as human thought 
Ne'er yet conceiv'd ! Thou com'st benealS the 

guise 
Of Selim's murderer.— Now tell me :— is not 
That SeUm vet aliyel 

Selim. Selim alive I 

Bar. Perdition on thee 1 dost thou echo me . 
Answer me quick, or die I [Draws his dagger. 

Selim. Yea, fteely strike — 
Atrend^ hast thou given the fatal wound, 
And pierc'd my heart with thy unkind suspidon ; 
Oh, Poold my dagger find a tongue to tell 
How deep iCdranlT his blood ! — hut since thy doubt 
Thus wrongs my zeal, — behold my breast — strike 

For bold is innocence. 

Bar. I scorn the task, [Ptcts up hit dagg 
Time shall decide thy doom : — Guards, mark j 

See that ye watch the motions of this slave; 
And if he meditates t'escape your eye, 

That Selim lives, or aee'st his hated face, 
Then wreak thv vengeance on me. 

Bar. Bear lum hence.^ 
Yet, on your lives, await me within caU. 
I will have deeper inquisition made, 

[Exeujil Selim and Guards. 
Call Zaphua. [ExitaeUiTie. 

If Selim liuea— then, what is Barbarossa 1 
Mv throne 'a a bubble, that hut floats in air. 
Till marriage rlte« declare Zaphira mine, 
I will not brook delay. By love and vengeance, 
This hour decides her ftile ; 

Enier Zaphira. 
Well, haughty felr ! 

Hath reason yet subdu'd thee 1— Wilt thou hear 
The voice of love 7 

Zaph. Why dost (hou vainly urge me 1 
Thou know'at mv fii'd resolve. 

Bar. Can aught but frenzy 
Rush on perdition '! 

Zaipk. Therefore shaU no power 
E'er make mc thine ! 

Ba/r. Nay, sport not with my rage 
Know, that thy final hour of choice is come 1 

Zaph. I have no choice. Think'sl thoa I e'er 
will wed 
Tha murdorer of my lord X 

Bar. Take heed, rash queen ! 
Tell me thy last resolve. 

Zaph. Then hear me, Heaven , 
Hear, all ye powers, that watch o'er innoi 
Angela of Ughtl And thou, dear honour' 
Of my dejiaited lord I attend, while here 
I ratity with vows my last resolve. : 



May horror blacken all our days and nights ! 
May discord light the nuptial torch ! and, rismg 
Fcora hell, may Bwarmtng fiends in triumph howl 
Around th' occnrsed bed! 



BARBAROSSA. [aotit 

Zaph. O spare me! Heaven protect mel O 

my son, 

Wert Ihuu but here, to save thy helpless mother : 

Wha^ shall ! do? Undone, midone, Zaphira! 

Enter Selim. 

Selim. Who call'd on AohmetT— Did not Bsr- 



rs or cries. What! dare ye doubt 
[Guards go to seize ZiPHiH. 



Require ma here ? 

Bar. Officious slave, retire ! 
I call'd thee not. 

Zaph. O kind and gen'rous stranger, lend thy 

O rescue me from these impending horrors ! 
Heaven will reward thy pity ! 
Selim. Pity her woea, O mighty Barbarossa ! 
Bar. Rouse not my vengeance, slave ! 
Seiim,. O hear me, hear me ! [Kneels. 

Bar, Curse on thy forward zeal ! 
SeliTH,. Yet, yet, have mercy. 

{Lays luAd qf BiRBjROesA's garmeul. 
Bar. Presuming slave, begone ! 

[Strikes Sei,im. 

Selim. Nay then, die, tyrant! 

[Rises and aims to stab Bjhbahobba loho 
mresta his dagger fivin him. 
Bar. Ah, traitor I have I caught theel 
Perfidious wretch, who art thou ^Bring the rack- 
Let that estort the secrets of his heart. 
Seiim. Thy impious threats are lost! I know, 
that death 
And torments are my doom. Yet, ere I die, 
I'll strike thy soul with horror. Off, vile habit ! 
If thou dar'st, 

ne !— Hear me, tyrant !— while, with 

le than thunder, I procl^m. 
That he, who aim'd the dagger at thy heart, 

Zaph. O Heaven ! my son '. my son ! 
Selim. Unhappy motherl 

[Euns to embrace her. 
Bar. Tear them aaunder. 

[Guards separate tkem. 
Zaph. Barb'rous, harb'rous ruffians! 

[They offer to sciie him. 
Selim. Off, ye vile slaves I I am your king ! — 

ind tremble at my frowns ! That is the traitor — 
That is the murd'rer— tyrant ravisher! Seiw him. 
And do your country right ! 
"■— , Ah, coward dogs ! 

'e at words t—at seize him, or, by hell, 

agger aenda you all [They seine htia, 

11, Dost thou revive, unhappy queen I 
Now arm my soul with patience I 

Zaph. My dear son! 
Do I then live, once more to see mySelim 1 

thee thua I 

thou behold 
igoniea, and not relent 1. 



'barossa ! thou at length hast 

'helm'd with woea, 
[Kneels. 
fore thy feet I— not for myself 

Iplead. Yes, plunge the dagger in my breast I 

Tear, tear me piecemeal ! But, O, spare Zaphira I 
Yet^-yet relent ! force not her matron honour ! 



conquer'd 
hapless pnnce, 

Prostrate before thy feet I— not foj 



ic.i,= r,i^,oogle 



BARBAROSSA. 



Dnqoest even h^oncl my hope !- 
Lie tbere, thou slave I lie, till Zaphiia s cries 
Arouse thee from thy posture ! 

Selim. Dost thou insult my griefe 1 — unmai 
wretch 1 
Curse an the leiii', that could hetray my limbs, 

My coward limbs, to this dishonesf posture i 
Long have I scorn'd, I now defy, thy power ! 

Bar. I'll put thy boasted virtue lo the trial.— 
Slaves, bear him to the rack. 

Zaph. O spare mj son ! 
Sure lilial virtue never was a crime! 
Save but my son !■ — I yield me to thy wish 1 
What do I say 1 — The marriage vow — O horror I 
This hour shall make me thine I 

Selim. What ! doom thyself 
The guilty partner of a munl'rec'B bed, 
Whise hands yet reek with thy dear husband's 

blood 1 
To be the mother of destruetive tyrants — 
The curses of mankind I By Heaven, I swear, 
The guilty hour, that gives thee to the arms 
Of that detested murderer, shall end 
This hated life I 

Bar. Or jfield thee, or he dies. 

Zaph. The conflict 's past. 1 will resume my 
greatness ; 
We'll bravely die, as we have liv'd, — with honour ! 
[EiBbraeing. 

Selim. Now, tyrant, pour thy fiercest fury ■ 



lit conquer, tl 

Bar. Drag them hence; 
Her to the altar : — Selim to hia fitte. 

Zapft. OSelimlOmy son!— Thy doom isdeath! 
'Would it were mine ! 

Selim. TVould I could give it thee I 
Is there no means to save fieri Ijcnd, ye guards, 
Ye ministers of death, in pity lend 
Your swords, or some kind weapon of destruction ! 
Sure the most mournful boon, that ever son 
Ask'd for the best of mothers ! 
One last embrace I 
Farewell I Farewell, for ever ! 

Zapk. One moment yet! Pity a mother's 

O Selim! 

&iim. O my mother ! 

[Exeunl Selim, ZAPHiR*,onrf Guards. 

ACT V. 

SCE->,E J—riie Palate. 
E ferBiRBARLS'A \i.ATiis, and Guards. 
Bar Is the watch doubled 1 Are the gates 



Yet first the rack shall rend 
Each secret from his heart. 
Haste, seek out Othman ; 
Go, tell him, that destruction and the sword 
Hana o'er voung Selim's head, if swift compliania 
Plead not his pardon. lExit Alaqin, 

Enter Irene. 
Irene. O night of horror ! — Hoar me, honour'd 
If e'er Irene's peace was dear to thea. 

Bar. Impious t dai'st thou disobey 1 

Did not my sacred will ordain thee hencel 

Get thee to rest ; for death is stirring here. 

O fatal words ! By every sacred tie. 
Recall th^^ire decree, 

_ . luldst thou say 7 

Whom plead for 1 

Irene. For a brave unhappy prince, 
Seutenc'd to die. 

Bar. And justly ! Bnt this hour 

he traitor half fulfill'd thy dream, and aim'd 
His dagger at my heart. 

Irene. Might pity plead ! 

Bar. What ! plead for treachery 1 

Irene. Yet pity might bestow a milder name. 
Wouldst thou not love the chfld, whose fortitude 
Should hazard Ufa for thee 1 

Damn'd was his purpose; and accum'd 



sight. 

Irene. On,never,tillthy mercy sparemy Si 
Bar. Thy Selim! Thine 1 
Irene. Thou know'st — by gratitude 
He 's mine. Had not his gen'rous hand rede 

What then had been Irene 1 Oh I 
Who sav'd me from 
By the powi 



id entreaties s 



Against surpnsB'' 

Alarhn. They are, and mock th' attempt 
Of force or treachery. 

Bar. This whisper'd rumour 
Of dark conspracy. 

Seems but a false alarm. Our spies, sent out, 
Atfirm, that sleep 
Has wrapp'd the dh". 

Aladin. But while Selim lives, 
Destruction lurks within the paiace walls. 

Bar. Right, Aladin. His hour Of fille 
proaches. 
How goes the night 1 



Iiene. Yet hear me I Ere my tortut'd soul 
Rush on some deed of horror I 

Bar. Convey the frantic idiot from my ptesenM : 
See that she do no violence on herself 

rse. O Selim ! — generous youth ! — how have 

y'd thee to destruction ! 
Inhuman fether ! Genemus, injui'd prince ! 
Bthinks, I see thee stretch'd upon the rack, 
Hear thy expiring groans. O horror! horror! 
What shaU I do to save him 1 Vain, alas I 
Vain are my tears and prayers. At least, III die. 
Death shall unite us yet ! lExil. 

Even in the midst of power ! the vilest slave 
More happy &r than I ! The very child. 
Whom my love cherish'd from her infant years. 
Conspires to blast my peace ! 

Enter Aladin. 
Now, Aladin, 
" thou seen Othman ■? 
He will not, sure, conspire against my peace V 



Aladin. He's 

lurking ri: 






lord. I (Jreail s 



ic,t,d=f Google 



808 



The eentinel on watch eajB, that he pasa'd 
ThagatB, since midnight, with an unknown friend: 
And, as they pass'd. Othnian in whisper snid, 
Now farewell, bloody tyrant ! 

Bar. Slave, thou liest. 
Be did not dale to sa; it ; oi, if be did, 
Why dost thou wound my ear 
By the foul repetition^ 
What 's to be done! SomemJBchieflurkBnnseen. 

Aladin. Prevent it then — 

Sar. By Sehm's inElant death— 

Aladin. Ay, doubtless. 

Bar. Ie the rack prepar'd ] 

Aladin. 'TIs roady. 
Alongthe ground helieSjO'erwhelni'dwithchams. 
The miniflters of death stand rennd ; and wait 
Thy last command. 

Bar. Once more I'll try lo bend 
HiB BtubbomBoul. Conduct me forthwith to him; 
And if he now refuse my profler'd kindness, 
Destruction swallows him ! {Exeunt. 

SCENE n.—A Prison in the Palace. 
Selih in oftoins, Exec-alioneTa, if^. and the Tack. 



BARBAROSSA. 

Pour all your U 



Insult these poor reir 

Close to my lather's 

Qffi. They shall. 



A indignity 

ns; see them iuCerr'd 



Enter BarbjkOS9*. 

Bar. So — raise him from the ground. 

[They raisf 
FeiGdious boy ! behold the Just rewards 
Of guilt and treachery ! Diiist thou mit giw 
Thy forfeit life, whene'er I should behold 
Selim's detesled face 1 

Selim. Then take it, tyrant. 

Bar. DiiSat thou not aim a dagger at my t 

Selim. I did. 

Bar, Yet heaven defeated thy intent ; 
' - ' —■" — "■— Ti the dagger. 



And sav'd me fr 



t^ebeU 



Selim 

To guestion Heaven. Th'intentandnotthedeed 
1b in our power; and therefore who dares 

greatly. 
Does greatly. 

Bar. Yet bethink thee stubborn boy, 
What horrors now surround thee — 

Selim. Tbink'Bt Ihou, tyrant, 
I came ao ill prepar'd ' Thy rage is weak. 
Thy torments powerless o'er the steady mind ; 
He, who can bravely dare, can bravely suffer. 

Bar. Yet lo, I come, 

Eelent, and save Zaphii 

Even now expecta the sentinel, to 

The signal of thy death. 

Selim. Let guilt like thine 
Tremble at death : I scorn its darkest frown. 
Hence, tyrant, nor profene my dying hour ! 

Bar. Then lake thy wish. (Bell tolls. 

There goes the fatal knell. 
Thy fete is seal'd. Not all thy mother's tears. 
Nor prayers, nor eloquence of grief, shall save thee 
Prom instant death. [Exit. 

Selim. Come on, then. [Tkevbindhim. 

Begin Ihework of death— what! bound withcords. 
Like a vile criminal !— O valiant friends, 
When will ye give me vengeance '. 
Enter Irene. 



inents. — How shall I appriiach 



Sdim. These are thy father's gifts !— Yet thoa 

Then let me lake Ihee to my heart, thou best. 
Most amiable of women ! 
Irene. Rather curse me. 
As the betrayer of thy virtue ! 

Irene. 'Twas I, — my fears, myftantic fears bc- 
tray'dtheel 
Thus, felling at thy feet, may I but hope 
For pardon ere I die ! 

Selim. Hence to thy father I 
Irene. Never, O never 1— crawling in the dust, 
I'll clasp thy feet, and bathe them with my tears ! 
Tread me to earth ! I never wii! compltun ; 
But my last breath shall bless thee ! 

Selim. Lov'd Irene ! 
What hath my fury done 1 
Irene, Canst thou, then, 
Forgive and pity me 1 
Selim. I do, 1 do. [They embract. 

Qgt, No more.— Prepare the rack. 
Irene. Hero will I chng. No power on earth 
shall part us, 
Till I have savM my Selim I 

[SAduJ ; rlasking of smordt. 

Aladin. [Withoul.] Ann, arm I— Treach'rj 

and murder ! [to arms, 

Selim. Off, slaves 1— Or I will turn my chains 

nd dash you piece-meal 1 

Enter Alidin. 
Aladin. Where is the king 1 
The foe pours in. The palace gates are hurst ; 
The sentinels are murder d 1 Save the king; 
They seek him through the palace ! 

OJi. Death and rum ! 
Follow me, slaves, and save him. 

[Exeunt Alsdin, Officer, and Ouardt. 
im. Now, bloody tyrant ! Now, thy hour is 

Vengeance at lengthhatlipierc'd these guilty walls, 
And walks her deadly round ! 

IB. Whom dost thou mean 1 my felher ! 

idaah qfsvtorde. 
si Heaven save 
my father I 
cruel, cruel Selun ! [Exit. 

Selim. Curse on this servile chMn, that binds 
me&st 
In powerless ignominy ; while my sword 
Should hunt its prey, and cleave the tyrant down \ 
Oth. [WabmttJ\ Where is the prince 1 
Selim. Here, dlbman bound to earth ! 
ct me but free I — O cursed, cursed chain 1 
Enter Othmsn and Party, who free Selim. 
Oik. O my brave prince ! — Heaven fiivours our 
design. [Embraces him. 

'ake that: Ineed not bid thee use it nobly. 

[Giving kim a sward. 
Selim. Now, BarbaT088a,let my arm meet thine, 
ris all! ask of Heaven ! [ExU. 

Oth. Guard ye the princa — [Pari go out. 
'ursue his steps. Now this way let us turn. 
And seek the tyrant. [ExhutU 

SCENE m.~A Court in the Palace. 



i„^.OOglQ 



BARBAROSSA. 



Enter OthmaN. 

Have I found thee, 
Disaeniblmg traitor % Die ! — 

[Tkeyjiglits T 

Enter Selim and Sadt. 
SeSim. Tbn foe ^ves way : sure this way went 
the atorm. 
Where is iha tiger fled ! What do I see ? 
Sadl. AJgiere is free I 
Olh. This sabre did the deed t 
Selim. I envy theo the blow ! Yet valour ararns 
To wound the fellen. But if life remain, 
I will speak daggers to hia guiitj soul — 
Hoa U SarbaroBsa I Tyrant, murderer! 
■Tia Selim, Selim calls thee. 

Bar. Off, ye fiends! 
Torment me not I O Selim, art thou there ! 
Swallow me, earth I 
Oh, that I ne'er had wrong'd thee I 

Selim. Dost thou then 
R«pent thee of thy crimes ! He does, he does ! 
He grasps m^ hand — Sfe, the repentant tear 
Starts ftT>m Qs eve ! Dost thou indeed repent 7 
Why then I do forgive thee ; from my soul 
I freely do forgive thee ! — 
Bar, Gen'roDs Selim ! 
Too good— I have a daughlcr— Oh I protect her ! 
Let not my crimes— [Dies. 

Olh. There fled the guilty soul I 
Selim. Haste to the city— stop the rage of 
alaughter. ^ 

Tell Diy brave people, that Algiera is free ; 
And tyranny no more. 

[Exeunt Guards, 



Selim. Lo, there the tyrant Ilea I 

Zopk. O righteous Heaven I 

Selim. Behold thy valiant friends. 
Whose taith and courage have o'eri 
Of Barbarossa. 

Zap/t. Just are thy ways, O Heaven! Vain 

Once more Zaphira 'a bless'd I— 
im. O happy hour 1 ha[ 
hope ! Look down, blesE 
From the bright realms of hiiss 1 
Unspotted, unseduc'd. unmov'd 
Behold the tyrant prostrate at thv teet ! 
And to the memory of thy bleeding wrongs. 
Accept this Eaciifice. 

Zapk. My generous Selim! 

Selim, Where is Irene! 

Olh. Zamor, our trusty friend, at my i 



[po« 



Id thy qi 






[,.!.. 



K' 



Convey'd the w 

&lim. ThanKs lo tny neneroue care. 
Zap/t. Her virtues migTit atone 
"or all her fether's guiltf Thy throne be hers 
Ihe merits all thy ' - - ■■■' ' 

Selim, Then h 
Pity shall draw hi 

When she beholds the virtues of his child. 
Norn let ua thank th' eternal Power : convinc'd. 
That Heaven but tries our virtue by afliiction ; 
That oft the cloud, which wraps the present houi. 
Serves but to brighten all our future days ! 

r-E..,u. 



, Google 



THE RECRUITING SERGEANT: 



A ZnUSIOAlL EHTEB.TAIHiaii»T, 



IS ONE ACT. 



BY ISAAC BICKERSTAFF. 



REMARKS. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 

As origiiiall}' acted 
Mr Banmster 
Mr DiMin. 



Scene.— A Country Place. 



SCENE.— Viev: of a Village, with a Bridge. 



The Curtain Ttses and discoriers lico Ldght 
Horsemen, supposed iobe on their march, sii- 
ling at an Alehouse door; mith Sieir ornw 
t^ainst the waU, Iheir horses at some distance, 
ne Sbsoeant then passes with his party 
over the bridge, drams, andjifee playaig ; and 
afleraards the CouNTHTMiN, hia Wife, and 
his Moi'BEB, cmne oat from the Cottage. 

and Wife. 
^erg. All gallant !ads, who know no Kara, 
To the drum-head repair, 
To Borve the king for volunteers; 
Speak you, my boys, that dare. 
Come, who'll be a grenadier 1 

The Usting money down 
Is three guineas and a ccown. 
To be spent in punch or beer. 
Cittin. Adds flesh, I'll go with him. 
S^h. Oh, no. 



Wife. 


Dear Joe 1 


Coan. 


Adda flesh, I'll go vrith him. 


Moth. 


Oh, no! 


Coun. 


Adds flesh, but I will; 




So hold your tongues rtill: 
Nor mother, nor wife, 






Tho'f they strive for their life, 




Shall bault't, an' my fancy he Bo. 


Serg. 


Come, beat away a royal march, 




Rah, rub, rub a dub; 




Rub, rub, rub a dub; 




Of no poltioons I come in eearch, 




Who cowardly sneak 




When the tongues of war speak, 
But of noble souls, who death dare 




Against the foes of old EnglaiMl. 
rffbe a soldier, so that 'fl£«. 


Coun. 


Moth. 




Omn. 


I1i'bBd°eBd,^!^'Idon^ 




What wonid the teasing toads be atl 


Moth. 


You graceless rogue, 




Is your heart ft stone* 


Wife. 


I'm flesh of your flesh. 




A nd bone of your hone. 


Com,. 


Zounds, let me alone. 



r,l^,OOgLC 



THE RECRUITING SERGEANT. 



211 



Serg. Dnima, Btrike np a flouris!!, ar 



folloB 



All honest hearts and clever: 
Free QuarterB and beer at tiio aiaii of 
the Plough; 
Huzza I king George for ever. 
\Some of the farty ga into the Alehmise 
with the Light Horsemen, 
Cimn. Hip, Measter Sergeant. 
W^fe, Go, yourself destroy. 
Serg, What saya my cock 1 
Coun. Mayhop, I wants emptny. 
A tad about my soize, though, would na' da. 
Serg, Ay, tor a colonel 
CouTi. And a coptain eo'> 1 
Serg. For both, or either. 
Coun. But 1 doubto, d'ye see, 
Such places are na' for the loikes o' me. 
Serg-, Listtbr a soldier firet,ne'erfear thetest; 

This guinea 

Motk. Joe, this cursed gould detest. 
Art not aahani'd, an honest man to 'Ucel 
The king should knaw it. 

Co-un. Who wants jowr advice 1 

AlB. — MOTHEH. 

Out upon thee, wicked locust. 

Worse in country nor a plague ; 
Men by thee are hocust pocust 

Into danger and fetigue. 
And the justices outb^ thee 
In thy tncks, but I don't ftar thee, 

No, nor those Chat vrith thee league. 
My son has enough a( home, 
He needs not for bread to roam ; 
Already his pay 
Is twelvepence a day, 

His honest labour's frui.Cs ; 
Then get thee a trudging quiet, 
For 'gad, if I take a stick, 
I'll make thee repent. 
When here Ihee Wert sent. 



Adru 



nmg to 



For folks you know not who ! 
With richer friends than we. 
And prouder you may be. 
But none will prove no true. 

[Exit wilh the Childrea. 
Serg. Comrade, your hand : I love a kd of 

Your name, to enter on my muster-roll ; 
To Justice Swear'em then, to take our oath. 

Coun. Hold, sergeant, holdj there 's time enough 
for both. 
If I've a moind to list, I'U list, d'y.Bee; 
But some disconrse flret, betwiityow and me. 
A souidier'a li fe 

Serg. The finest life that goes; 
Free quarters every where^ 

Co'in. Ay, that wo knows. 

Serg. Then, wenches ! 

Coun. You've free quarters too with they; 
Girls love the red coats 

Serg-. 'Gad, and well they may. [sort, 

Coun. But when to foreign wars your men re- 



r'ighting — a battle- 
Serg. 'Tis the ra 






Coun. Then won't you go, and let a body be 1 

Serg. Zounds, it''- '" 

Moift. Dawn'tsv 

Wifi. Dear Joseph, what's come o'er thee? 
tell me, do: 
Three babes we have, I work for them and you ; 
Vou work for us, and both toaether earn 
What keep them tight, and puts them out t« 

But, if a soldlerinc you're bent to roam, 
We ail shall shortly to the parish come ; 
And the churchwardens, no one to befriend us, 
Will, lor the aejit thing, to the workhouse send 
us. fserv'd ; 

Thee know'st at workhouse how poor folks s— 
Bill, Tom, and Susan, will be quickly stsrv'd. 
AlH. — Taking a Boy in one hand and a Girl ■ 
in. the other. 
Oh, could you bear to view 
Your little Tom and Sue 

Ta.'ea up by cross o'erse< 
And think that helplee ^ 



What a charming thing 'a a battli! I 
Trumpets sonndmg, drums a beating 
Crack, crick, crack, the cannona rattle 
Every heart with joy elating. 
With what pleasure are we spying. 
From the front and from the rear, 
Round us in the smoky air. 

Heads, and limbs, and bullets flying! 

Then the groans of soldiers dying ; 
Just like sparrows, as it were. 

At each pop. 

Hundreds drop ; 
While the muskets piittle prattle. 

Kill'd and wounded 

Lie confounded. 
What a charming thing 's a battle ! 
But the pleasant joke rfall. 
Is when to close attack we f^ : 
Like mad bulls each other butting, 
Siiooting, stabbing, maiming, cutting. 

Horse and tbol, 



Allg< 



d thunde 



What a charming thing 's a halttt ! 

Moth. Call yon this charming 1 'Tis the work 
of hell, 

Wifi. How dost thon like it, Joel 

Crran. Why, pretty well, 

Serg. But pretty well? 

Coun, Why need there more he said ' 
ut mayn't 1 happen too to lose my head t 

Serg. Your head J 

Coan. Ay, 

Serg. Let me see : your head, my buck 

Omn. A leg or arm too ? 

Serg. Not if you've good luck, 

Omn. Good luck ! 

Serg. The chance of war is doubtful still ■ 
oldiers must run the risk. 

Omn. They may, that will. 



icBdb, Google 



212 THE RECRUITING SERGEANT. 

Serg. Why, how now, JoeepM Sore you 



Coan. I have thought twice, and second 
thoughts are hest. 
Show folks with beaslaa lo our milage came, 
And hong at door apicture of their garae; 
Bears, Kons, tigere, there were four or five ; 
And alt BO like, jou'd aweat they virere aUve. 
A Saping at the cloth, the man spied me ; 
" E\)r twopence, friend, you may wait in," says he; 
But 'gad, I was more wise, and walk d my way ; 
I saw so much for nought, I would not pay. 
To BBC a battle thus, my moind was bent ; 
But you've ao well describ'd it, I'm content. 

Serg. Come, brotheteoldiers, let usthen begone; 
Thou art a base poltroon. 

Cmin. That 'b all as one. 
Air. 
Ay, ay, master sergeant, I wish you good day : 
you've no need at present, I thank you, to stay ; 
My stomach for battle 's gone from me, I trow ; 
When it comes back again, I'll take care you 

shall know. 
With cudgel or fist, aa long as you list ; 
But as for this lighting, 

Which some take delight in ; Ignn ; 

This slashing and smashing, with sword and with 
On consideration, 
I've no inclination 
To bo the partaker of any such fun. 
I'll e'en slay at home in my village, 
And eany no arms but for tillage i 
My wounds shall be made 
With the acythe or the spade, 
(fever my blood should he shed. 

ShouB one wound, or a toe 
For such a disaster 
There may be a plaster ; 
Butnoplaslerstitkaonahead, [ETiiSGHOEiNT. 

(Tift. Then wilt Uiough stay, Joe 1 

Moth. WUt thou, boy of mine? 

Caun. Wife, give's thy hand, and mother, give 

the alehoose, Jane ; 



Lost night you dodg'd 
Isworetobereveng'd 

ITift. laeeitplam 

Coun. I swore to be ravengd, and 
To list ma, to be even with thee ''--- 



But 



me, now my plaguy anger 'a o'er. 
Wi/e. And I'll ne'er dodge thee to the ale- 

DuET. — CouNTBYMAN and Wife. 

Onm. From henceforth, wedded to mylarm, 
My thoughts shall never rove on ban 
I to the field perchance may go, 
But it shall be lo reaii or sow. 

Wjfe, Now blessings on thy honest heart, 
Thy wife shall bear an equal part; 
Work thee without doors, she within 
Will keen the house, and card and spin. 

Coun. How foolish they, in love with strife, 
Who quit the peaceful country life ; 

ffye. Where wholesome labour is the best, 
And surest guide lo balmy restl 

Both. That lot true happiness secures. 

And, bless'd. be prais'd. is mine ai 

Content beneath the numble shed. 
W^ll Coil to earn oui babies bread; 



With mutual kindness bear love's yoke, 
And pity greater, finer folk. 
tire is introdvced is dance qf LA^hl-korse men, 
Reeruits, and Country girls i q/!er which the 
SisaEtNT cornea imt, with a drinking glass in 
his hand, JalUneed by his party, to the Coun- 
tryman, the Wipe, and the Motheh, mho 
hare been looking on the dance. 
SfTg. Well, countryman, art off the listing pin, 
et wilt thou beat a man;h 1 
Wife. Dear Joe ! come in. 
Moth. Hang-dog, be gone, and tempt my boy 






no harm intends, [friends, 
forbid; but let us pirt like 
got a bottle here of humming ale. 
king's health. 



We'v 

Coun. And that I 
Lord love and bkss him, he 's an honest man. 

Serg. Lads, where your niusiol 

Coun. Nay, fill up the can. 

fe'a drink the royal family. 

Serg. So do; 
King, queen, and all. 

Coun. And Jane shall drink them too. 
Alr. 
Here 'a a health to king George, peace and glory 

He's merciful, pious; he's prudent and just ; 
Long life, and a race hke hiuiself, Heaven send 

And humble the foes lo his ciown in the dust 

Beat drui 



Let the es 



rcingf 



life; 



While each British heart 
In the health bears a part. 
And joins the loyalstrain. 
Wife. Here's a health lo the queen; gracious, 
mild, and engsging, 
Accomplish'd in all that a woman 
should own ; 
The cores of her consort with sofinew 

Whose manners add splendour and 

Chorus. Beat drums, &c. 
Moth. Here's a health lo those beautiful babes, 
whom the nation 
Regards aa a pledge from the sue it 

Heaven shield the sweet plants from each 
fulness of virtue 



Chorus. Beat drums, &c. 



■. Hen 



erglorio 



s majesty's arms, 






And gr"eat nmy they be on the land 
s their cause, may they still 

And punish the rashness of France 
and of Spain. 
Chorvs. Beat drums, &c. 



./Google 



HERO AND LEANDER: 

A OOnXlO BURIiETTA, 

IN TWO Acra 
BY ISAAC JACKMAN. 



respect, fitr Iho legitLim: 



notflii] of accumulating very considerable fbrlunea, and majbid defii 
:eaat: lei this be aaitmsy, the public good ought Aral to bo coneultcd. 
'Dopniy, however^ preaeived Iho aeoondancy ; and Iho public gcod^ as pj 



DRAMATIS PERSONjE. 



ABUHAn, Mr W Painter 

D1EI.IH Mr Chaniiers 

Leahdsii 

HVUBK, MasCr 

80LAND Mr Bai 

Heko Mts Fo 

Safrtna, Mrs Bu 

MlNBRTA, Miss Bu 

8oldi«iB, Labottnng People Men and Womett 

Scene— The Bonhaofthe HelloBponl Uma — Sunr 

MuatL by Mr Rfleve — Scenery by Mr Duon 



j Ihirldsh katbandraen at vtork, tlieiT wives emphytd 
I at (Ab fame time. — A pfrspedive viete 0/ We Ctislh 
of Abydoa, in IValiiia, or the Lesser Asia — Jir 
I Hetlespoitt appearing to divide tAe tfpo cmtntriet. 



j,= r,,i^.oogle 



HERO AND LEANDBR. 



RnterS 



and Woir. 



J, tabounng Men 



Chorus. All hail the cheerful god of day, 
PaFcDf of every human blisB j 
Who (ere he wings Ms heavenly 

Salutes hiG Thetis nith a kiss. 
Sif. See how creation smiles around ; 

"What melody enchants the grovel 
Hero. 'Tis there the voice of natmii's ftimd 

Reaponsive to the note of love. 
Chorus. All hail, &c. 
Sol. Weli done, m; lada, the moming seems tr 

In jonder cioud, methinks, I view a shower: 
Bind np the corn, harnoEs all the cattle. 
And let the women quit their idle prattle ; 
Those lazy sluls are constantly a gadding; 
'Tia such as you. that set the fellows m^ding. 

Hero. Behold Aurora, with a. blushing ray 
And rosy fingers, spreads the infant day ! 



Man. A ship, a ship I 'twixt sea ana wmd she 
Sol. Fly all, Hy all, and save the people s lives. 

Alas, how chang'd the &ce of things; 

[ Tftiwirier and lightning. 
Hark, hark, the howling tempest sings; 
Ah, now the rebel winds she feehi, 
Toss'd on the billows, how she reels I 

She'snowa wreck, beholdonhigh [TViunders. 
Exploded thunders rend the sky ; 
A dread convulsion moves the shore, 
And rocks the deep, unmov'd before. 
The crew hob appear landing— thtmder and light- 
ning — music descriptive of Me elemenlal marjare 
— ^orm gradjiaUy decreases— 'Leandrr disgiased. 



Sol. Weic 



AJIb] 









dilgmsa 
whether friend oi 



Ere yet Aurora chase Ihe dews. 
The lark hia mattn song ronewa ; 
, And saeniB to chide the swains' di 
To lose so sweet a part of day. 
See from the ground bis m 



Ands£ 






nng eyes ; 



Still as she soars her notes decs 
Till the faint warblings die away. 
Sal. Well, Safrina, what's the matter now! 
Siif. There sits, alas ! on gentle Hero's brow 
A settled grief, 

Sol. Pshaw ! I know the reason : 
Hero 's nineteen, and that, yon know, 's.the season 

I, whi 
)d1 



When I was young, I danc'd and sung, 

My heart was lighter than a fly ; 

ito caie my youthful bosom stung, 

At every rout, pray who but I? 

At length the urchin bent his bow, 

The vagrant arrow hit the mark; 

But Hymen 'solv'd his skill to show, 

Cnr'd poor Safrina in the dark. 

Sol. WelIdonc,Saffiliai'lbregad,wealleanteU, 

There was a ^me, you bore away the bell. 

[A peal of thunder ; sky appears overeosC ; 

exe'ant Safbcna anrf Hero. 

Sol. Away my lads — the storm is drawing 

And save the produce of a fruitful year. 
[A peal ijf thander,accompanied'{aith lightning. 
Sol. Well done, my boyal The clouds are aU 

A thunder-bolt hath struck the village spire, 

{A peal of thuitder, lightning^ rain, *^c. 
'he hills are wrapt in stormy clouds on 

And feel the dread cotivolsion of the sky , 
Tempests arise, on fortune's ocean lower. 
And rolling billows lash th afirighled sfwce. 
[ Tempest rages ; a Man, standing on a rock, 
tries out — 



brothers in this scene of woe. 
Lean. Thanks to you, gentle iriends ; and, Sir, 

rtant piayere are ever, ever due ; 
May all the powers divine your labours Uees, 
' ' d TOD friends, if ever in distress I 

Vhat means that sigh 1 ah, tell me, geo- 
tie youth; 

n the child of honour and of truth : 
Banish your cares, for see, the Gbd of light 
Dispels the gloom, that wrapp'd the world in 
night. 
Lean, Stern Boreas, frowning now forsakea 
the plain, 
And smiling Nature visits us again ; 
Each tree its wonled foliage re-assumes, 
And new-born zephyrs breathe around perfiimes. 



fiah'd ei 



es of endless beauty ri 



Transparent now, and all serene, 

The gentle current flows ; 
While fincy draws the flatt'ring scene, 

Horn &ir the landscape shows ! 
But soon its tranaent charms decay, 

When ruffling tempests blow; 
The soft delusions fleet away. 

And pleasure ends in woe. 
Sol. Tell me, genrie Sir, , fiT>m whence job 

Declare your Sovereign, country, and your name , 
Are ye from NatoKs^ rebel coaatl 

■ be so, 'twere better you were lost. 

[ Trumpet teilhoai 
The chiefisrona'd; behold him, great inarms; 
Let Hero now subdue him with her charms ; 
From yonder monntam's brow he saw your sails 



Abu. What 's this I seel— a set of rascal mi- 
Hanging together like a set of onions. 
I'll hang ye all, aj, scoundrels, before night, 
K on the instant you don't quit my sight. 

Dread Sir, vie have got some prisonen 



, Google 



HERO AND LEANDBR. 



Ihat 

Ana hem thej 

Abu, Say, have they any wives 1 
The women aH are mine — yes, if twenty, 
Althougli bdeed I've petticoats b plenty. 

Sal. We found no female, Sir, among the crew; 
Shall we diadiarge ftie men — pray, what say you 1 

Abu, Let tlieni all break&Et, 
Bach a loaf of bread, 
And then let every prisoner — 
Lose his head, [Fsieonehs I 

Chobub. — Pbison erb. 
Have pity, great chief, 
And send ua relief; 
We're all in a wretched condition ; 



Accept this our humble petition. 
[Dtirin^ this chorus Abudah idighis. 
Abu. Silence, rascals I — 1 find you then can 

Bnt, scoundrels, yuu shall know my word is &te. 
My sword shall treat the vultures with a feast ; 
Sl^ll lay whole realms, nay, human natnre, 

Sol. I told them, Sir, how great you we 

That vrith a single pufFyon'd rock a tower ; 
That you were ten feet high— was not that ri„ 
Abu. Ten feet at least — five cubits — No-^not 

Vet every inch is made of proper stuff, 
Though idle nature cast me m the rough. 

Stand atl aioof, ye paltry jades, 
And you, ye filthy knaves of spades : 
Haw dnre you look beyond (hose pales, 
On me, who wear three thumping tails 1 
Don't you all know, that at a blow, 
I'd send you to the shades bebw \ 
Begone, or else I swear, odsbobs, 
I'll send you home without your bnoba. 

Enter Hero. 
But, Hero now her form displays, 
And strives to charm a thousand ways ; 
From head to foot new modes of dreaa, 
Her carious arts to please express ; 
I find I'm caught withzn the snare, 
So I'll enjoy the am'rous feir ; 
As I'm a soldier great and aUtaX, 
This ^rl has turn'd me inside out, 
'^Vim.oanahEiiVDtRlacikstea^aaa!/ attack other. 
Lean. It is, it is, my love \ Ye goda, be kind ! 

Hero. 'Tia he — I give my sorrows to the wind. 

[Aside. 

Abu. What docs the fellow stale af! Speak, 

you dog. 

The rascal seems as stupid as a log. 

Lean. Spare your reproaches. Sir ; I'm ill at 



My lite is jours, do with m 






[Takss Heho 6)' the hand. 



The god of love shall fan the keen desire ; 
My body, blood, and soul.ara all on fire. [Going. 
Lean. Monstel, avaun II— Release the heavenTy 

Or, by all the avenging powers, I swear 

ISeaet AnuDAH. 
Abu, Seize, seize the villam ; drag him to the 

Or toss him headlona from the steepest lock. 
No, off with his head. As I'm a sinner, 
111 have his knob, before I ei)t my dinner. 

Hero. Mercy, O mercy. Sir, as you are great ' 
O save the youth, at least suspend his fiile I 

Abu. Who is the vagabonJl 

iieoii. Why, caitifi; hear, 
So shall thy savage nature shake with ftar ; 



Know then, ingrate, from Abydos I ci 

"■'" ' ■- " iderismy 

[Tlu 
J thy bloodhouuds 
I stand unmov'd. " [rout ; 



; know thou, Leande 

[TArouis offhis 
Now sUp thy bloodhouuds — 'dulge the savage 



^his disgm- 



Abu. O now the murder 's out. 
Thanks lo thee, prophet, thanks to thee again. 
— Speak not in his behalf, you sue i(i vain ; 
This is the squire, that braves the Hellespont, 
And steals at night to madam bot^upon't. 
Zounds ! I'll souse him in a tub of pickle ; 
And, as fiir Miss, her toby 1 will tickle. 
Drag him away. 

Hero. Great chief, he not cruel, but good as 
you're brave, [save. 

Remember, the hero but conquers to 
Sol. Give life to the wretched, whose fate 's 
in your hand: [land. 

'Tia humanity graces and blesses the 
Lean, I sue not for mercy, I stand here un- 
protected by virtue, by beauty, and love. 
Together. Look down, O ye gods, and let mo^ 

The hieaamgs that wait upon virtue and 

Hsro. Hear me, great Sir — spare Leander'a 

Grant this request, and Hero is your wife. 

iSbi. Say, will your actions with your words 

accord 1 
Hero. They will, indeed. 
Sol, Then take her at her word. 
Lean. I read my Hero's meaning in her eyea. 
[Aside. 
Abu. It is all. flummery. — By Heaven, he dies. 
Hero, Pardon me. Sir, my love for you pre- 



What girl can stand a bashaw with thre 






O, Sir be consenting be kbd, and relenting, 

r creatures, and i 
and you'll find 
How good natur d and kind 
I'll prove to my spousee, by night and by day. 

I, come now, sweet lover, a pasdon discover, 
A s!y little Cupid now lurks in that smila : 

Every maid must surrender 

To such a commander, [guile. 

You've found ont a way my poor heart to be- 



r,l^,OOgLC 



HERO AND LEANDER. 



Behold, like Apollo, Ms ringlets of yellow ! 
BeWld how, Uke Mats, at this moment ht 
His breath too diacioaea [Btands ! 

The perfume of roses! 
n .1... . -g jg„„j ohee^g^ and how taper 



his hands t 



O.ct 



'Tia done! 'tia done! — you're pardon 
I give you life, mj lose will have it so. 
But if that poaching dog comes here ag 
And braves my angor, as he braves the 
ni whip the rebel rascal, tiil he 's blind 
He scarce then, acoundrela, now you 



ChOhds — fljr the Turks. 
Wake to harmony the voice, 
Rejoice, 'Us mercy c^Ib, rejoice. 
[During" this chorus, Abddjh moants the 
eiephanti hejirsl pk ' ' ,' 
shoulder qf a static, v>ho kneels imd raises 
kim ffenlly, until Abudah vavMs into Ike 
saMe. 

Chorus. 
^H. Happy, happy, happy day, 
Every heart its homage pay. 
Wake to harmony the voice, 
Rejoice, 'tis mercy calls, rejoice 

ACT II. 

SCENE I.— A Grove. 
Enter Aeudah, Sol*no, Saprina, and Heko. 
Abu. Come, come, Solano, methinka wo tarry, 
I shall be all a-gog, until I marry. 
The lovea in council sit, and from above 
Venus now calls me to the Paphian grove. 
Soi. What saya my gentle Hero, will you go f 
' "'"'''" "tsgrirf. 



In lovc'a silken fetters, 
And aneer at your i)ett«r 
By the gods now I sweai 
Prom your bosom I'll tea 
No, stop— I'll do more, 
I'll deluge the shore 
With blood- 
Till Nature looks wild, 
And before I reOre, 
I'll kindle a lire, 
That ahall to^t you. 
And roast you. 



Saf. Her heart seems bursting with 
jHerc Heigh ho I 
Saf. Divide vour sorrows, Hero, give me part. 
Suppress that sigh— or else you'll break my heart. 

Alas ! I nress'd, with growing love, 

This darling to my breast; 
Kot the most fevoury, even above, 

Was more completely bless'd. 
Dear innocent I her lovely smiles 

Delight me but to view ; 
And every pang my Hero feels. 
Her mother feels it too. 
Aba. I see she 's coy, yet love is in her eye. 
She'll know her bashaw bettor by and by; 
Come, Hero, I hope there 's no repenting, 
Tbfl gods, my pretty chicken, are consenting. 

Gentle Hero! take my hand. 
Love and lite 'a at thy command : 

Joys surrounding. 

Sorrows drowning. 
Bliss sb^ gladden all the land. 



Man, woman, and child. 

Saf. O mercy on us ! whither shall me fly t 

Sol. He'll ravish you, periiaps. 

Si/: No, first I'll die. 

[Exeunt Sapbinj, and Hero ; huzza luithout. 
Enter Delah and Soldiers. 

Abu. What 's the matter, Delah 1 

Del. Dread Sir, attend — 

fe've seen a sail- I'm sura shS 's not a ftieni- 

overing on our toast; she's full of people. 

saw her first, great Sir, from yonder steeple. 

Abu. Rally my forcta— instant line the strand ; 

hey're rebel raseals, from Nalolia's land. 
\Evit Delah: Soldiera remain. Huzza idthout. 
Like Mars, I'll dart the javehn from my car, 
^ 3Com to wait, I'll meet the coming war. 

[Going! trumpel sounds •without. 

Sol. Fir'd by the found, my genius bids me go. 
To share the conflict, and repel the foe. 

Hark 1 the trumpet sounds aGa, 
The dam'rous harbinger of war ; 
Rouse, soldiers, rouse, to arois to arms, 
The call my bea^ng bosom warms ; 
The foe insults our native shore, 
And proudly mocks his conqueror. 

O, genius of this happy land. 
Descend! and bless tny chosen band; 
Give UB (o meet the daring foe, 
'Tis liberty shall nerve the blow. 

So, when the toils of war are o'er. 



!ward in iKthful love. 
Enter Delah. 



'hat horrid fears sits trcmbling on thy 
cheek! ' 

Del. I And Leander, Sir, comes here to-night, 
'o visit Hero, and secure her ft^ht, 
Abu. Death and the devil ! — this is news in- 



O for Bellona's 

He should be a 

'Twould make me smile, to Ee< 

Sol. Suppose we sraze hln 

Waylay die villain— nab him 



hip, to make him bleed ! 



r, i^.oogle 



HKRO AND LEANDER. 



Abu. That is right. 
You counsel well, Solano — Come away, 
My Boul '9 in aims, and eager for lis prey 

[Exeunl 01 
SCENE II, 
NiffhL' — -The HeUesponl in peraj}estive. Lean- 



i in Hek 






candle 



Enter Abod^h, Soi.xno, and Soldiers. 
Sol. Behold liim, Sir ! — his fate, alas ! draws 

And forces e'en the tribute of a sigh. 

Like the dread genins of the deep, he steers, . 

Nor shuns the labour, nor the danger tears, 

SONO. 

0, see how he conies, how he moves throuj 

the gloom, 
Conducted by fete, and by lose, to his doon 
O, see the fond youth, to the ehore now I 

And quitfl his companions, his country, and 

Regardless of danger, he darts through the 



'Tisiii 



re commands Um, and nature m 



Aba. The fellow 'a got on shore, he'll soon be 

The light conducts him lo ray faithleas feir. 
O here he comes— be silent all ss death. 
Let not a creature speak above his breath. 
Enter Lejnder. 
Lean, Well so &r sate — I non must wait to 

The bright perfection of a deity. 

O do not, cruel love, my cares prolong ! 

I'll wake my gentle Hero with a song. 

Awake, my sweet Hero, my heart's dearest 

treasure, 
Leatider now calls you to love and delight ; 
'Tis Hymen shall sanctify love's soDcst plea- 
Give our days all to joy, and to rapture the 

night. 
Awake then, my charmer, and share Che 

sweet blessing, 
The moments now fly me, alas ! how dis- 

O, think ol^our joys, when oaress'd and ca- 

Ariue, mj sweet Hero, love calls you away. 

[Heho opens Ike winduvi. 

Hsro. O my soul's joy ! thy cheering voice 1 

Like notes from seraphs, rushing on my ear. 

Lean. O come, my Hero, bless again my arms. 
My heart, still constant, beats withtove'e alarms ! 
Danger could work no change, nor tjme remove 
Tbelionest warmth of undissembled love. 
Haste then, sweet feir, thy lover's transprl meet, 
Fly lo his arms, and make his bliss complete. 

f Heho shuts the window. 
Thai Heaven from which no secret is conceal'c). 
But every wish and ihoushl must stand reveal'd, 

Voi..I..,,2E 19 



Amongst the various 
Where neither interes 
But all the warmth is 

Enid- Hero; Lean 



ire, or truer mind, 
! of human kind ; 
>r design have part, 
ive from the heart. 

[ embraces her. 



O bless'd event l — let's fly lo yonder shore : 
We've met, my Hero, now, to part no more. 
Hail, happy graves, retreats of peace and joy, 
Where no black cares the mind's repose destroy ! 
Hero. Discharg'd from care, on unfrequenled 
plains. 
We'll ang of rural jojs in rural strains; 
No also corrupt delights our thoughts shall more. 
But joys of friendship, tenderness, and love. 

Lean. Come now, my sweet love, to the grow, 
The graces are waiUng for you ; 
Thro' roses and woodbines we'll rove. 
And kiss, as all true lovers do. 
Hero. O, take both my hand and my heart, 
My lover I know he is true ; 
Till death shall direct us Co part, 
We'll kiss, as all true lovers do. 
Both. Adieu Chen to doubt and despair. 

Fair virtue our loves will pursue ; 

We'll not know a momenC of care. 

But kiss, 88 all true lovers do, 

[They appear Tetiring lo Leandeb's vesiei, 

hut areslopped by Ahudab, SooanO, Delah, 

and Soldiers; the Soldters present their 

spears at Leandeb, 

Abu. Bind the villain.— O Sir, you're caught 

Knock olf his head, and let me have his biain; 
Now that my anger 's roi " - - .. 

I'll make a punch-bowl ol 

[In this part 0/ the Scene, MiNEHVi, in a 

cloud, attended by Hymen, descends in Ike 

back Scene, supposed to be the Ba/nks qf tht 

Hellespont, 

Lean. O now tarewell to hope!— My love, 

I die content, because I die for you. [adieu I 

Hero. O roake his cause, ye powers above, yoor 



Support his soul, now death demands hie prey, 
And smooth his passage to the realms of Jay '. 
Lean. May Heaven still guard her, with pe- 

And make her happy, as it made her fair I 
May cahnest peace her future days attend. 
And late may she to endless joys ascend I 
Abu. Bring me a cauldron, hot as Alecio'i 
ketfle; 



'11 sprinkle Ubations, to the furies round. 

[MiNEBVA and HvMEN come Joncard , 

Abudah starts ; all stand amaied. 

Min, Cease, beU-hound — infernal monster, 

come, the blessed harbinger of peace. 
To join in Hymen's bands this constant pair; 
The yonth deserving, and the virtuous fau ; 
Their constancy and truth deserve my care. 



r, i^.oogle 



HERO AND LEANDRR. 



Stand forth, my children — Hymen, join tlidr 

{A jjourtsi ^ irtimpeia ; they kneel, and 
Htm EM joins iftfiii- k ' 
Tis 'Vnsdam consecrates the sacred bands. 

SOKO — Htmen. 



United in the bands of tnitli. 
And when oiil Time, with solemn pace. 
Shall call to tell them, both must die ; 
Touch'il, as he views (heir fond embrace, 
He'll, bless them first, then pass them by. 
Sweetest pleasures, &c. 
ASa. What then, is all my greatness coms : 
Ihia? 

Am I then baffled by a paltry Miss! 

Your power, MailaDi, certainly prevails -, 
Wisdom, 1 find, pays no respect to tails. 
Lean. thanks, et«miil thanks, to jou 1 

Thoa be»t and briahtcst ornament of Heaven I 
JHtn. How strike the sprightly lyre ; all ca! 
away; 
To mirth and joy we dedicate the day ; 
rO raise an altar to love's holy flame, 
iDscrib'il with Hero's and Lcander's name. 



' go round. 

Every voice in chorus sound, 
Tnia is Hymen's holiday. 
Drees a garland for the fair, 
Care and sorrow hither go ; 
Daitbdillies, 
Virgin lilies- 
Hymen saya he'll have it so. 
Bero. Take my hand, you have my heart, 
Indeed, you've had it long ago ; 
And now we'll never, never part — 
Hymen says he'll have It so. 
ChoTUB. Joy and pleasure, ijfcc. 
Saf. Cupd is a foolish boy. 

Once he tried on me his bow ; 
Bat I never fell a Foy, 
Till Hymen said he'd have it so. 
Chorus. Joy and pleasure, &;. 
Aba, Must I then give up the lair, 

And SCO them laughing at my wo ; 
live and lead a life of core? 

The devil sure would have it so. 
Chorus. Joy and pleasure, &e. 
jSW. ObservBj ye Mr, the moral here^ 
Let virtue in your bosoms glow , 
You then may bid adieu to fear — 
Hymen says he'll have it so, 
Chorus. Joy and pleasure, &c 



, Google 



ISABELLA: 

OR, 

THE FATAL MARRIAGE: 

A TaAGEDY, 

IN FIVE ACTS. 

BY THOMAS SOUTHERN. 



This trajBdy wm reBtored id thi 
kHentioDB, and omiit«d some comi 
oTllK.S^. & im, tiut inioiiubl 

of Hn. Biddons to a London Huilie 
.Inhella. wbkh.lt had not belbre it 
iBttnaiion of the characier. wilt eni' 

or Uie leu plays wrilten by Soiitl 



REMARKS 








e, after a long period of neglect, by Ga 
ea, wbich i[ muBl b^ confiissed were n 
r appeared in Uie part of Biron, and coi 

That unEivBlled miBtreaB of the hear 
; and Miss O'Neil's iinpaBaionEd and 


1 well ailapted to U 
iributedtolhesucc 
meniorablo, if the 
ga™ a pathos and 
Uiveeicellence, in 


Babellaai 


d Oroonoko 


heepl 


eirplBM 


on tue NKidein Blaj 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



. . . JWr, MuTtay. 
Mr. r»../ 



1 Gentleheh. . 



Carlos. Mr.Atiaa. 

VlL(,BROY. Mr.Egerlon. 

Belfobd. Mr. Clorement. \ JSurbe 

Bravoee, Officers, ServB'ila, Men, and Women. 

SoKNK. — Brussels. 



ACT I. 

SCENE l—Tke Street. 
Enter Villeroi and Caelos. 
Car, This constancy of joiirs will cBtablisli a 
iDiinartal reputation among Ihe women. 

Vil. if it would eBtablisH me with Isabella— 
Car. Follow her, f(^lowher: Trojlownwi 



Cor, But lite in hi 
ready road, the lover't 
aught you know, but oi 
'-'n of yoar n---" — 



MS ! Why, hope is the 
baiting place ; and foi 
e stage short of the pas 



s, than any encouragement she has given 

r. ThM I can't tell : the sex is very various ; 
there are no certain measures to be prescribed oi 
followed, in mating our approaches to the women. 
' " ■ hat me have to do, I think,.iBW atlempt then 



io;*^.OOglC 



ISABELLA 



[AOl I 



ia the weakest part. Press them but harf, and 
Ihey will all fall under the necesaty of a surren- 
ddc at last. That fk-iour comes at once; and 
sometimes when we least eipect it, 

Vil. I'm going to visit her. 

Car. What interest a brother-in-law can have 
with her, depend upon, 

I^. I know your interest, and I thank you. 

Car. You are preTented; see, the iiioumer 

She weepB, as sesen years were seven hours ; 
So fresh, unfading, is the memory 
Of my poor brother Biron's death : 
I leave you to your opportunity, 

[Exil VlLLEEOY. 

Though I have taken care to root her from our 

1 would transplant her into Villeroy's 

There is an evil &te that wails upon her, 
To which I wish- him wedded— only him; 
Hla upstart femiiy, wilh haughty brow, 
(Though Villeroy and myself are seeming friends, ) 
Look th>wn upon.our bouse ; his sister too, 
Whose hand I ask'diand was with scorn refus'd, 
Lives in my breast, and fires me to reYsnge,— - 

They bend this way, 

pBrJMps, at last, she seeks my felher'a doors ; 
They shall be shut, and he prepar'd to give 



Thebf 



ir and h< 



brat 



. cold re 






ibU 



Enter Villeboy and IssB 

Isa. Why do yoa Mow 
A bankrupt every way ; \ab 
Ever to make return: 1 own juu ita</c in«u 
More than a brother to me, my friend : 
And at a time when friend* are found no more, 
A friend to ray misfortunes, 

VU. I must be 
Always your friend. 

isa, 1 have known and found you 
Vruly my friend : and would I could bo yours ; 
But the nntbrtunale cannot be friends ; 
Pray begone, 
Tate warning, and he happy. 

Vil. Happiness I 

There's none forme without you ., 

What serve the goods of tbttune for % To mse 
My hopes, that you at fast will share them with 

Ha. I must not hear you, , 

VU. Thus, at this awfal distance, I have serv'd 
A seven years' bondage— Do I call it bondage, 
When I can never wish to be redeem'd 1 
No, let me rather lioger out a life 
Of eipeclalion, that you may be mine, 
Than be restor'd to the indifference 
Of sedng you, without this pleasing pain : 
I've lost myiself, and never would be found, 
But in these arms. 

lea: Oh, I have beard all this ! 

Bui must no more the charmer is no 

My buried husband rises in the face [more ; 

Of my dear boy^ and chides me for my stay : 
Oanst thou folate me, child t 

m. What can I aay l 
The arguments that make against. my hopes 
Prevail upon itiy heart, and fix me more ; 
Those pious tears, you hourly throw away 
Opon the grave, have all their quick'ning charms. 



more engage my love, to make you mise: 

When yet a vic^in, free, and undispoa'd, 
I lov'd. but saw you only with mine eyes ; 
1 could not reach the beauties of your soul : 
I have since Uv'd in contemplation. 
And long eipeiience, of yout ^wing goodnes*: 
What then was passion, is my judgment now, 
Through all the several changes of your Uie, 
Confirm'd and settled in adorning you, 

Isa. Nay, then I must be gone. If you are my 
friend, 
If you regard my little interest, 
No more of this. 

I'm going to my father: he needs not an excuse 
To use roe i!i : pray leave me to the (rial. 

VU. I'm only born to be what you would have 



ii', [Exit. 
{Knock*. 



.11 need a! 



LocU'd ! and fast ! 
Where is the charity that us'd to stand 
In our fiirefethers' hospitable clays 
At great men's doora. 
Like the good angel of the family. 
With open arois taking the needy in. 
To feed and clothe, to comfort and relieve, theml 
Now, even their gates are shut against the poor. 
Enter Sampson. 

Samp, Well, what's to do now, [ trowl You 
knock as loud as if you were invited ; and that '» 
more than I heard of; hot I can tell you, you may 
look twice about you for a welcome in a great 
man's.femily, before you find it, unless you bring 
it alone with you. 

&o, 1 hope I do, Sir. 
Is your lord at home 1 

Samp. My lord at home ! 

Isa. Count Baldwin lives here still 1 

Sump. Ay, ay. Count Baldwin does hve here ; 
and I am hia porter ; but what 's that to the pur- 
pose, good woman, of my lord's being at home 1 

Isa. Why, don't you know me, mend 1 

Samp. Not I, not I, Mistress; ImayhavBseen 
you before, or so | but men of employment must 
forget thdr acquaintanco ; especially such as w» 
are never to be the better for, 

[ Going to shut the door. 
Enter Ndhbe, 



and mend your : 
who you prate to i 

ha. I am glad yon know ma. Nurse. 

Niirae. Marry, Heaven forbid. Madam, that I 
should ever forget you, or my little jewel : pray go 
in, [Ihabelt.a goes in with herCliild.] Now my 
blessing go along with you, wherever you go, ot 

. . ._ — __g n]^at. Fie. Sampson, how 
ch a Saracen t . A Turk would 
' Chtistian, than to have dona 

barbarously by aO go()d a lady. 

Samp: Why, loot you. Nurse, I know you of 

I: by your ^lod will, you would have a finger 

every body's pye ; but mark the end on't. If 
calledito account about it, I know what I 



couldsttboubf 






r,l^,OOgLC 



"■] 



ISABELLA. 



nidow anil poor child the comfoit of seeing Mtnt 
She does not trouble hiip eo often. 

Samp. Not that [ am against it, Nurse, but we 
are but aervanta, yoii know ; we must have no 
likings, but our lorcl'a, and mast do aa we are or- 
dered. But what is the businBaa, Nurse 1 You 
tave been in the feniQy before I came into the 
world ; what 'a the reason , praj, that thia dau^h- 
ter-in-law, who has so good a report in every 
body's mouth, ia «o httle set by, by my lord 1 • 

Nmrse. Why, 1 tell you, Sampaon, more or 
less : I'll tell the troth, thai 's my way, you know, 
without adding or diminiahing. 

Samp. At, marry, Nurse, 

NtiTse. My lord's eldeat son, Biron by name, 
the son of bis bosom, and the son that he would 
have loved beat, if he had as many as king Pyra- 
mus of Troy ; — this Biron, as I was saying, waa 
s lovely svreet gentleman, and, indeed, nobody 
could blatne his fether for loving- him : he was a 
ton for the king of Spain ; Heaven bleas him ! for 
I was his nurse. But now I ci»ne to the point, 
Sampson; this Biron, without asking the advice 
of his ftienda, hand over head, aa young men will 
liave th«r vagaries, not having the fear of his fa- 
ther before hia eyes, as I may say, wilfully marries 
tills laabella. 

Samji. How, wilfiiUy ! he should have had her 
consent, metlunka. 

iVurse. No, wilfully marries her ; and which 
was worse, after she had settled ail her fortune 
upon a nimnery, which aho broke out of to run 
away with him. They say Ihey had the church's 
fbrgiveneas, but I had rather it had been Uis fa- 
ir's,' 

Sav.p. Why, in good truth, and t think our 

Eung maater was not in the, wrong but in manry- 
j without a portion. 

Narse. That waa the quarrel, I believe, Samp- 
son : iipon this my old lord would never see him : 
diaintierited him:tAok his younger brother,'Carlos, 
into fevour, whom he never cared for belore : and, 
at last, forced Biron to go to the aiege of Candy, 
Where he was tilled. 

Samp. Alack a-day, poor genlEeman ! 

NuTse. For which my old lord hates her, aa if 
ghe Siad been the cauaeof his going thither. 

Samp Alas, poor lady i she has auflered for it ; 
ahe haa lived a great while a Widow 1 

Nurse. A great while indeed, for a young 



). Gad 



t hero they ec 



eipect from m 



; Iw 



C. Bald. Speak it again ; 
Say still you are undone ; and I will liear you, 
With pleasure hear you, 

Isa. Would my ruin please you.?, 

C. Bald. Beyond all other pleaaures. 

Isa. Then you are pleaa'd — for I am most un- 

C, Bald. 1 pray'd but for revenge, and Heaven 
has heard, 

nd sent it to my wishes : these gray hairs 
Would have gone down in sorrow to the grave 
Which you Mve dug forme, without the thought, 
■"'-- "--unht ofleavingyou more wretched here. 

ndeed I am most wretciied,— ' 
I lost with Biron all the Joys of life : 
But now its last supporting means are gone. 
All the kind helps that Heaven in pity laia'd, 

bereft of all. 
But this laat trial ofacruel lather,^ 
To save ua both from inking. Oh, my child, 
Kneel with me, knock at nature in his heart : 
Let the resemblance of a once iov'd son 
Speak in this little one, who never virrong'd you. 
And plead the fotherless and widow's cause. 
Oh, if you ever hope to be forgiven, 
Forget our faults, that Hea'ien may pardon yours ' 

C. Baid. How dare you mention Heaven '■ 
' Call to mirid 
Your peq'ur'd Vows ; yonr jdlehted, broken faith 
To Heaven, and all things hSy ; were you not 
DevMed, wedded to a life recluse. 
The sacred halrit on, profeaa'd and sworn, 
A votary for ever 1' Can you think 
The sacrilegious wretch, that roba tlie ahrine, 
Is thimder proof! 

Isa. There, there, began my vroes. 
Oh ! had I never aeen my Biron'a' &ce, , 
Had he not tempted me, I hdj Wot fallen. 
But still continued innocent and Jree . 
Of a bad vir>r]d', which only Ke had power 
■Torecoridle, and mak* me try agdn. 

C. Bald. Your own incooatancy 
Reconcii'd you to the.world: . 
He had no hand lo bring you back agdn, 
But what you gave him, Circe] you prevml'J 
Upon his honest mind, transforming him 
From virtue, and himself, into what shapes 
You had occasion for; and what tie did 
Was first inspir'd by you. 

"' ' " ;lf— for I am past the hopes 



What could you I . 

Jsa, Oh, f have nothing to eipect i 
Bat misery is very apt to talk ; 
I thought I might be heard. 
■ C. Bald. What can you say 1 
is there in eloquence, can there be in Words, 
A reparation of thelnjuriea, 
The great calamities, that you have brought 
On me and minel You have destroy^ thos 

1 fondly raiad, through my declining life. 



Isa. Not for myself- 
Of being heard— but for this in 
And then 1 never will disturb you more. 

C. Bald. I almost pity the unhappy child ; 
But, bang yt 









And let Uiis p[ 

Oh! save, defend him, save him from the wrongi 

That M upon the poor I 

C. Bald. It touches me 

And 1 will save him-~-But to keep him sbSb, 



Nevej 






Isa, What! take him fromme! 
No, we must never part. 
! live but in my child. 
No, let me pray in vain, and beg ray bread 
From door to door, to feed his daily wants, 
Rather than always lose him, 

C. Bald. Then have your child, and feed him 



, Google 



ISABELLA. 



fAC 



C. Bald. Yoa rascal, tiltive^ nhat do 1 keep you 
fori 
How came this woman in 1 

Samp. Why, indeed, mj lord, I did as good as . 
tell h«r before, my thougbta upon ttie matler— ' 

CBald. Didyouen, Sirl Nowtlien teil her 

Tell her I sent 'you to her. 

Begone, go all together — J shall he | 

of you ; bat never, never, eee me mon 



SCEN^ /.— The Street. 
Enter Villehot and C*bi,os, meeting. 
Vil. My friend, I fair (o ask — but Isabella— 
The lovely widow's tears, her orphan's cries, 

Thy father must f^\ for them No, I read, 

I read their cold reception in Ihine eyea 

Thou piticettheiD—uiough Baldwin— but I spare 









For Carkis! sake; Ihon art 

Ther« needs not this to endear thee mc 

Cot. My Vilieroy, the felherless, tht ..._ 
Aro terms not understood within these gate! 






itiu uiubt -luL^jiir uuji i k7Li, lie thinks this 
Is Biron's &le that hurried him Xo dcath- 
I must not thuik on't, lest my fnendship st igger 
My friend's, my stster's, mutual advantage. 
Have reconcti'd my bosom to its task 

Tii Advantage ' think not 3 intend to niae 
An interest from Isabella-'a wrongs 
Your lather e^ay have mterested ends 
In her undoing, but my heart haa none , 
Her happiness must be my interest, 
And that I would restore 
Car Whv, BO I mean 
These hardships) that njy lather lays upon her, 
I'm sorry ibf, gnd wish I could prevent , 
But be will have lus way Since there 's no 

From her prosperity, herthange of fortune 
May dter Che coifdition of her thougMs, 
And make for you 

Yd She IS above her fortune 

Cor Try fcer a^m Women commonly tave 
Aecordibg to the circumstances they are lu 

VU Common women may- 
No TluMif h I live but in the hopes of her, 
And lajiguish for th' enjoyment of those hopes, 
I'd rather pine lu a consummg want 
Of nhat I wish, than have the blessing mine. 
From any reason but consentmg love 
Oh I let me neve^ iiave it to remember, 
I could betray her coldly tq cqmply 
When a dear gen rous choice bestows her on 

I know to idue the uncquall'd gift 
T would not have it but to value it 

Car Take \ our own way , remember what I 
ofier'd 

YU I understand it m 
I'll serve her tor herself, n ithout the thought 
Of a revrarjl [Ent 

Car Agtf^B Ihat point betv — " — 



SCENE IL—Bmise. 

Isabella and Nuhse diecocered. Isieella'b son 

alplay. 

Isa. Sooner or later, all things pass away, 
And are no more. The beggar and the kiM, 
With equal aleps, tread forward to their end; 
The recondling grave 
r Swallows distinction first, that made us foes ; 
Then all alike he down in peace together. 

[Weeping 

litirse. Good Madam, be comforted. 

Isa. Do I deserve tO be this outcast wrelch ; 
Abandon'd thus, and lost 1 But 'tis my lot. 
The will of Heaven, and 1 must not complain: 
I will not lor myself: let me beat all 
The violetiee of yonr wrath ; but spare mj child 
Let not my sins be visited on him : 
They are ; they must : a general ruin falls 
On every thing about me ! thou art lost, 
Poor Nurse, by being near me, 

JMirse. I can work, or beg, to do you service. 

Isa. Could- liptget 
What I have been, I might the better bear 
What lamdestin'dto. WTild hurrying thought* 
Start every vray from my distracted'^soul, 



Enter Sampson 
y, very little to 

, ils are worth h( _ . 

would rather think of redeeming 'em, thaneipeot 
any more monayapon 'era (fi«( 

iso So —Poverty at home, and debts aEroad ' 
My present fortune bad , my hopes yet worse ' 
What will become of me ' 
This nng IS alll have left of \alue now , 
'Twas given mo by my husband, his first gift 
Upon our marriage I've always kept it 



rthie, 



Upon our 1 

With my 1 

And now but part with it to support hit, 

WhH h only can be dearer 'Take it, Nniaa, 

Take care of It 

Manage it as the last remainine &iond 

That would relieve lis [Eiii Nurse ] H«aven 

can only tell 
Where we shall 6nd an<aher— My dear boy I 
The labour of his birth was lighter to me 
Than of my fondness now , my feais for him 
Are more than, in thit hour of hovenng death, 

Thej Lould be for myself He mmds me not, 

Hia little sports haie taken up his thoughts 
Oh, may Ihey never leel the pangs of mine I 
Thinking will make me mad why ni\i8t I think, 



Entti NnusB 

Nvrse Oh, Madam' you are utterly ruined 
and undone , your credili^ of all kinds are coma 
in upon you , they have mastered up a regiment 
of rogues, that are come to plunder your Bouse, 
and seize upon all you have in the worM theyara 
bebw What will you do, Madani ' 

La Oo * nothmg I no, for I am born to sutler 



r,i^.oogle 



ISABELLA. 



Bat what onrageB most my sense of grie 
My Boriow for your wrongs, is, that mj 
Forsknnwiiig well the st^rm that waa to 
Has order'd me not to appear for y<ia. 

Isa. I thank jour pity ; my poor husb 
For disobeying him ; do not jou stay 
To venture his displeaBm<e too jar me. 

Car. You mlBt rssolve oi 



[JSirit. 
: let the torrent 



Carlos and V^iLerov, viilh Ofpicebs 



My fortune vei7 well ■ 
You hasfl my word foi 
Q^. That's as much 







ihe Child 
a the work 

Jia. Where are these raiening Hood hounds, 
that pursue 
In a lull <^, guping to Bwallow me % 
I meet your rage, and come to he devour'd , 
Say, which way arc you to dispose oi me , 
To dungepns, darkness, death i 

dr. nave patience. 

lea. Patience I 

Qffi. Yoa'U excuse us, we are but in our office. 
Debts must be mid. 

Isa. My death will pay yoa all. 

[Distraeledly, 

Ojgi, While lliere is law to i>e had, people wUI 

Vil. 'Tis very fit they should; but pray be 

To-morrow certainly— {Eiemit Oipicebb 

isa. What of to morrow 1 
Must I be reserv'd for tresh affiictions 1 

Vii. For long happiness ol life 1 hope 

laa. There is no hope for me 
The load grawa light, when we resolve to bear 
I'm readylbr my tnid 

Cot. Pray, becalm 
And know your thends 

laa. My Jnendsl have 1 1 friend 1 

Car. A^thfulfnend m vour ettreraest need 
Villeroy 



Vil. I'm most unhappy that my services 
Can he suspected to design upon you; 
I nave no farther ends than to redeem you 
From fortune's wrongs ; to show myself at last. 
What 1 have long profess'd to be, your friend ; 
Allow me that ; ^ to convince you more, 
That I intend only your interest, 
Forgive what I have done, and in amends 
(If that can make you any, that can please youl 
I'll tear myself for ever fnmi my hopes. 
Stifle this .flaming passion in my soul, 
And mention my unlucky lota no more. 

lia. This generoMty will ruin me. [Aside. 

Vil. Nay, if Ihe blessing of my looking on you 
Disturbs your peace, I will do all 1 can 
To keep aviaj, and never see yon more. [Going 

V^ Could Isabella speak 
Thote few short words, I should be roofed here, 
And never move but upon hee commands. 

Car Speak to him, sister ; do not throw away 
a c,^..„„ .1.... .„.,:... yo„ ^ 1^ happy. 

And has deserv'd 

IB you have a friend, the t 

., 11 wi 

To be a friend, a ._.. 
-fto A husband I 
Cor T:ou have discharg'd your duty to the 



Isa. i 



' How 



_ .. .'Inch way i for what 1 

Vil Let me be understood 
And then condemn me you have given me leavt 
To be your fnend and m that only name 
I now appear before you I could wish 
lliere had been no occasion of a ihend 
Because 1 ktipw you hate to be obhg d 
And stitl rAQ^ jF^th to be obhg d by mo 

jba. 'Twtu libat I woutd avoid [Aside. 



In your eifrcmily he begs your lovi 
And has deserv'd it nobly. Think upon 
Your lost condition, helpless ' ' 



And to the hving ' 'lis a wilfulness 
Not to give way to your necessities, 
That fon.e you to this marriage. 
Nutse What must become of this poor inno- 

Car He wants a lather to protect his youth, 
And rear him up to virtue : you must bear 
The fiiture blame, and answer to the world, 
When you refuse the easy, honest moans 
Oflakinffcareofhim. 

j^a. .Ki not think I need . ' . . 

ur reasons to confirm my gratitude; 

ave a soiil that 's truly sensible 

your great worth, and busy to contrive, 

[TqVillerot. 
If possible, to make yoo a return. 

Vit Oh, easily possible ' 

I'a It cannot be your way my pleasutas are 
Buned and cold in my dead buslHiid s grave 
And should I wrong the truth, myself and you, 
To say that I can ever loi e again 1 
I owe this deilaration to mysflf 
But aa a proof that I owe all to you. 
If afler what I have said you can resolve 
To think me worth your love— Where am 1 flp- 
>ng1 ^ 

annot think it (is impossible 



Isu. \ ou should nc 






ap BO much obhg d that to consent 
Would wanta name to recommend the gill 
'Tvrauld show me poor indebted and cOmpell d 
"asignmg mercenary and I know 
>u would not wi«h to think I could be bought 
Vtl Be bought I where is the pnte dial cab 
pretend 
To bargain for you '' Not in Fortune » power 
Thejoys of Heaven and love mu?t he t eato Vd , 
are :not to be sold, and cannot be deaerr'il. 



, Google 



ISABELLA. 



lAorm 



Isa. Satne olhei ti: 
(. Nay, then, th 



I'll beai you on (hia sub- 



. _ ..^ , — ji, there is no time so El for me. 
Since joo consent to hear me, hear me now ; 
That you may grant : you are above 

[ Takes her hand. 
The little forms which cireumacribe your sei ; 
We differ but in time, let that be mine. 

lea. You think fit 
To gat the better of me, and you shal! ; 
Since you will have it ao 1 will be yours. 

Vil. I take you at your word. 

fta. I give you oil, 
My hanifi and would 1 had a heart to give : 
But, if it ever can return again, 
'Tis wholly yours. 

Vii. Oh, ecatacjof joy! 
Leave that to me. If all my services, 
If all that man can fondly say or do. 
Can beget love, love ahall be born again. 
Oh, Carlos ! now my friend and brother too : 
And, Nurae, I have eternal thanks for thee. 

{Exit NUKSE. 

This night you must be mine. 

l*t me command in this, and all my life 

Shall be devoted U> you. 

Isa. On your word, 
Never lo press me to put off these weeda, 
Which beat become these melancholy thooahta 
V™. i,h..n ...s- „..j — ^ B t 



You shall c( 
:. Witr 



nand m.. 
5, Heave, 



Against my eoul, V 

Togive you a disquiet. 

Cor. I long to wish yon joy. 

VS. You'll be a witness of ray happiness' 

Got. For Once 111 be my sister's felher, 



id give I 












yU. Neit my Isabella, 
Be near my heart; I am for 

[Exeuni. 
ACT in. 
SCENE /.—Count Baldwin's House. 
Enter Count BiLpwm and Cahlob. 

C. Bald. Married to ViUeroy, eay'at thoul 

Car, Yes, my lord, 
Last night the priest peribrm'd hia holy office, 
And made them one. 

C. Bald. Misfortune join them! 
And may her violated vows pull down 
A lasting eurae, a constancy of sorrow 
On both their heads. 

Car. Soon he'il hate her : 
Though warm and violent in hia raptures now, 
Whe" RJl enjoyment palls his sicken'd sense, 
And reason with satiety returns, 
Her cold conatrain'd accflptance of his hand 
Will gall his pride, which (though of late o'er- 

power'd 
Bj- stronger passions) win, as they grow weak, 
Bise in foil force, and pour its vengeance on her 

C. Bald, Now, Carloa, take example to thy 
Let Biron's disobedience, and the curse [aid i 
He took into his bosom, prove a warning, 
A monitor to thee, to deep thy duty 
Wnai and unshaken. 

Car. May those rankling wounds, 
Wbich Biron'a disobedience gave my father. 
Be heal'd by me, 

C. BiUd. With teare, I thank thee, Carlos— 
And miy'st thou ever feel those inwntd joys, 



Thy duty gives thy father ; — but, my son. 
We muBl not let resentment ehoke our justice : 
■Tis fit that Villeroy know he has no claim 
From me, in right of Isabella,— Biron 
(Whose name Brings tears) when wedded to this 

le fortune 
vanity and fondness : 
I am possess'd of those your brother's papers, 
Whicli now are Vilteroy'a, and, should aught re- 
in justice it is bis I from me to him 
You shall convey them — follow me, and lahe 
Ihem! [Exit C. Baldwik 

Car. Yea, I viilifakethem; buterelpartwiti 

I will be sure my interest will not suffer 
By these hia high, rofin'd fiintastic notions 
Of equity and right. — What a paradoi 



Andei 



1 but nc 






Can steel his heart against the widow's 
And in&nt's wants : the widow and the infant 
Of Biron ; of his son, hia fav'rite son. 
'Tis ever thus; weak minds, who court opinion. 
And dead to virtuous feeling, hide their wants 
In pompous affectation,- Now lo Vilieroy— 
Ere this his friends, for he is much belov'd, 
Crowd to his house, and with their nuptial songa 
Awake the wedded pair : I'll join the throna. 
And in my lace, at least, bear joy and iiiendsbip. 
[Exit 



band of music, with Fhiendh of Villeroy, 
Eater a Sekvant, 

JFYiend, Where 'ayonrmasler,myBODdfliendf 

Ser. Within Sir, 
Preparing for the welcome of his friends. 

Friend. Acquaint bim we are here ; yet stay. 
The voice of music gently shall surprise hitn. 
And breathe our safutationa to hia ear. 
Strike up the strain to Villeroy's happiness. 
To Isabella's — But he 's here already. 
Enter Villerov, 

Vil, My friends, let me embrace you; 
Welcome all — 
What means this preparation! 

[Seeing the mamt. 

Friend. A slight token 

four best wishes for your growing happincss.- 

ou must permit our fiiendship — 

Til. You obhge me — 

Friend. But your lovely bride, 
That wonder uf her sex, she must appear, ( 
And add new brightness to this happy raomina. 
'iZ, She is not yet prepar'd ; and let her wil^ 

, worthiest friend, determine her behaviour; 
To win, and not to force her dispositbn. 
Has been my seven years' task. She will, anon. 



l. Let ailj let all be gay^ 
Begin Ike rapl'roui lay ; 
Let mrrlh, let mirtk and jog. 



r, i^.oogle 



IL] 



ISABELLA. 



M«n. Ye loce-tcing'd hours, yoarfiight, 
YouT dovnty fiighl, prepare ; 
Bring every ^oft delight 
To soolh Uie frroiie and fair. 

Hail, happy pair, tk-us in each other bless'd ; 

Be ever free from care, of every joy poaaesi.-'d 

PJi. I thank yoa for the proof of your aflec- 

[ am so macb tranFported with tbe thoughts 

Of wh^ I am, I know not what to do. 

My Isabella ! — but poseessing her, 

Who would not lose himself^ — You'll pardon 



ifl kind wishes 
Where's Carlos now! 
Methlnka I am buthalf myself without hitn. 
Friend. This is wonderful 1 married, and yet 

in rapluros. 
Va. Oh ! when you all get wives, and such 

(If such another woman can be found) 
You will ra»e too, dote on iho deaf content , 
And prattle in their praise out of all bounds. 

Enter Isibella and Child, 
My laabella! Oh, the joy of my heart. 
That I have leave at last to call yoa mine ! 
But let me look upon you, view you well. 
Thia is a welcome gaUantry, indeed 1 
I duTst not ask, but it was kind to grant, 
Juet at this time; dispensing with your dress 
Upon this second day, to greet oui friends. 
Ita. Black might be o 



Thy tirtues have diffus'd themselves around, 
' ' made them all as happy as myself 

_. .1. I feel their fevours with a grateful heart, 
And wilhngly complj. 

DOET. 

Tate the gifts the gods intend ye ; 

Graltful meet the proffiT'd joy ; 
Tmtk and honoar shalt attend ye ; 

Chofnns, thai ne'er can change or cloy. 
Ok, the raptures qf possessing. 

Talcing beauty to thy arms ! 
Oh, the joy, the lasting blessing, 

When viith virtue bea-aty charms I 
Purer Jlames shall gently inarm ye ; 
Love and honatir both shall charm thee. 



With shifting of your dress — Time has 
Incredible this way, and may again. 

lea. I could have wlsh'd, if you had thought 
it fit. 
Out marriage had not been so public. 

Vit. Do not you grudge me my eicess i 
That was the cause it could not be concea 
Besides, 'twould injure the ojsnion 
I have of m^ ^ood fortune, having you ; 



Enter Carlos, 
Til. My Carlos loo, wtio came in to the sup- 
is an honest right, 



Car. 1 come 

joy; 

To wish you joy ; and find it in myself; 
Pot a friend's happiness refleclB a warmth, 
A kindly comfort, into every heart 
That is not envious. 

Vil, He must be a friend indeed, 
Wtio is not envious of a happiness 
So absolute as mine ; but If you are 
(Ae I have reason to believe you are) 
Concem'd for my well-being, there 's the eai 
Tbank her for what I am, and what must bi 



1 see you mean a second 

My dearest Isaliella, you must bear 

The raptures of my iiiends; fiotn thee they 



Stole Irom her thoughts, just redd'nmg on her 
And you have dash'a it. [cheek. 

Car. I'm sorry for't. 

Vil. My friends, you will foi^ve me, when I 

I must prefer her peace to all tlie worid! 
Come, Isabella, let us lead the way : 



SCENE III.~A Room.. 
Enter Sampson and Nurse. 
Samp. Ay, marry. Nurse, here 's a master, in- 
deed : Hell double our wages for ue I If he comes 
on as &st ynth m^ lady as lie does with bia ser- 
vants, we are all m the way to be well pleased. 
Nurse. He 'a in a rare humour ; if she be in as 

good a one 

Samp. If she be, marry, we may even say, they 
have begot it upon one another. 

Nurse. Well ; why don't you go back again to 
your old countl You thought your throat cut, I 
arrant yoo, to bo tnmed out of a nobleman's 

Samp. For the future, I will neuer serro in a 
..rase, where the master or mistress of it lie 
single ; they are out of humour with every body 
when the_y are not pleased themselves. Now, 
this matmnony makes ever^ thing go well. 
There 's mirth and money stirring about, when 
those matters go as they should do, 
■ Nurse. Indeed, this matrimony, Sampson 

Sarmp. Ah, Nurse I this matrimony is a very 

good thing but what, now my lady is tnar- 

ned, I hope we diall have company come to the 
house ; there 's something always coming from one 

ntleman or other upon (htse occasions, if my 

ly loves company. This fcastizig looks wel^ 

Nurse, Odso, my master : we must not be seen, 

[Exeunt, 

Enter Villehoy, with a letter, and Isabella. 



d by hin 



e, but in 



desperate, and en 






suddenly 1 

Vtl. Suddenly taken, on the road to Brussels^ 
To do ua honour, love ; unfortunate I 
Thus to be torn ftom thee, and all those charmo, 
Thou^ cold to me and dead. 



, Google 



ISABELLA. 



Ua. I'm sorry for the cause. 

ra. Oh ! conU 1 think, 
Could I pereuaile myself, that your concern 
For me, or for my absence, were the spring, 
The tbuiitMii, ot'^theBc melancholy thoughts, 
My heart would dance, apiie of the aad occasion. 
And be a gay companion in my journey. 

Enter Cxhlos. 
My good Carlos, why ha»e you left my friends 1 

Cor. They nre deparlfd home. 
They saw some sudden melancholy news 

Had stolen the Hiely colour from your cheek 

Yoa had withdrawn, the bride, alarm'd, had 

follow'd : 
Mere ceremony had been constraint; and this 
Good-nalur'd rudeness 

ViL Was the more obliging. 
There, Carlos, is the canse. [Gims tht letter. 

Car. Unluciiy accident ! [ther I 

Th' archbishop of Malines, your worthy bro- 






lII you permit it 



With him to-night 

Va. It must be so. 

ha. f au hear it must be so. 

pa. Oh, that it must! 

Car. To lea™ your bride so soon ! 

Fit. But, hariii the posseBsion of my love, 
t am the better able to support 
My absence, in the hopes of my return. 

Car. Your stay will be but short 1 

Vil. It will seem long ! 
The longer that my Isabella sighs : 
I shall be jeatoos of this rival grief. 
It takes EO full possession of thy heart, 
There is not room enough ibr mighty love. 

[Enter Servant, boiffs^ and e:pit. 
Mj horses vrait: farewell, my level You, Carlos, 
Will act B brother's part, till I return. 
And be the guardian here. All, all I have, 
That 's dear lo me. 1 give up to your care. 

Car. And i receive hei as a friend and brother. 

VU. Nay, stir not, love '. for the night air is 

Andthedewsfall— Here be our end of parting; 
Carlos wilt see me lo my horse. 

[ExU icUh Carlos. 
lea. Oh, may thy brother betlar atl thy hopes ! 

A sudden melancholy bakes my blood I 

Poi^ive me, Villeroy 1 do not find 

That cheerful gratitude thy service asks: 
Yet, if 1 know my heart, and sure I do, 
'Tie not averse from honest obligation. 
Ill to my chamber, and to bed : my nundi 
My haraBs'd mind is weary. 



{ExU. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I.— The Street. 

Eater BmoN and Belf^bq. 

Bir. The longtst day wilt have an end 1 1 



Bet. ■^ 






liberty is home, 
lies most in England. 

Bir, Pray tet me call this yours : for what I can 
command in Brussels, you shati find your own. 
I have a father here who, perhaps, after seven 
years' absence, and costing him nothing in my 
travels, may be glad to see me. You know my 
•torv How Hoes my disguise become i " 



Bel. Just as you would have it 



.],... 



is natural, 



_ .. To-morraw yoa ahatl be surt 
ire, as early as you please. This is me nouse, 
lu have observed the street. 
Set. I warrant you : yuur directions will carrj 
e lo my lodmnas. f Eiii. 

Bir, Goodnight, my friend. 
The long expected moment is arriv'd ! 
And if all here is welt, my past sorrows 
Wilt onty heighten my excess of joy ; 
' nd notluDg will remain to. wish or hope for ! 

[Knocks. 
Enter Sampson. 
Samp. Who 'a there 1 What would you have 1 
Bir. Is your lady at home, fiiend 1 
Samp, Why, truly, friend, 'tis my employment 
answer impertinent questions : but, tor my 
lady's being at nome, or no, that 's just as my lady 

Bir. But how shall I know whether it pleases 
her or no 1 

Samp. Why, if you'll take my word for it, you 
lay carry your errand back again ; she never 
leases to see any body at this time of night, that 
le does not know^ and by your dress and ap- 
liarance, I am sure, you must be a stranger (o 

Bir. But I have business ; and you don't know 
ow that may please her. 
Samp. Nay, if yon have business, she is th« 
Est judge whetlier jour business will please her 
. r no ; therefore I will proceed in my office, and 
know of my lady whether or no she is pleased t« 
' home or no — [Going-. 

Enter Nobse. 



Nurse. Who 'a that you a 



Methinks y 



might h 



on, you 



busy withal 1 



IS your betters, 
a, if you coutd iielp me 



yourself prate some 

that 1 must say for you 

Who would you speak with, atrangerl 

Bir, With you, mist " " 

to speak lo yqnr lady. 

Nurse. Yes, Sir, I can help you in a civil way ; 
but can nobody do your business but my lady 7 

Bir. !Not so well ; bat, if you carry her this 
ring, she'll know my business better. 

Nurse. There 's no l