By th'mess, an ay tack thee in hont, ay's rad-| dle the bones on thee; ay's keeble thee to some tune. Me, sir? I don't understand you. Why, thaw'rt his mon, thaw hobble; I'll snite th' naes o' thee. Hold, hold, sir! what would you have with him? Why, I mun knock him down with my kibbo, the first bawt to the grawnt, and then I mun beat him to pap, by th' mess, and after ay mun cut off the lugs and naes on 'em, and ay wot, he'll be a pretty swatley fellee, but lugs and naes. Why, truly, sir, I know not where he is; but he went down that lane. This lone, sayn ye? Ays find him, by'r lady, an he be above grawnt. So, he's gone; a damned Lancashire rascal! Now, the devil take me, I swear by him that made me, if thou dost not tell whare is Gripe, but I will beat thy father's child very much indeed! What would you have me do? I cannot tell where he is. But what would you have with him? What would I have with him? By my shoul, if I do see him, I will make murder upon him for my captain's sake. Murder him? He'll not be murdered. If I do lay my eyes upon him, Gad I will put my sword into his bowels, the devil take me indeed. What hast thou in that sack, joy? By my salvation, I will look into it! it ? But you shall not. What have you to do with By my soul, joy, I will put my rapier into it! What, it does grunt, by my salvation, the devil take me, I will see it indeed. You shall not see my sack; I'll defend it with my life. Then I will make beat upon thy body; take that, joy, and that, and that, upon my soul, and so I do take my leave, joy. [Beats him in the sack. A plague on him, he's gone; he's almost killed me. Gripe. I can hold no longer; the blows all fell upon my shoulders! Sca. You can't tell me; they fell on mine: oh my shoulders! Gripe. Yours? Oh my shoulders! In a hoarse seaman's voice. Where is the dog? I'll lay him on fore and aft, swinge him with a cat-o'-nine-tail, keel-haul, and then hang him at the main-yard. In broken French English. If dere be no more men in England, I vill kill him; I vill put my rapier in his body. I vill give him two tree pushe in de gutte. Here ScAPIN acts a number of them together. We must go this way-o the right hand? no, to th' left hand-lie close-search every where by my salvation, I will kill the damned dog—and we do catch 'em, we'll tear 'em in pieces, and I do hear he went thick way—no, straight for ward. Hold, here is his man; where is your | master-Damn me, where? In hell? SpeakHold, not so furiously-and you don't tell us where he is, we'll murder thee Do what you will, gentlemen, I know not. Knock 'en down; beat 'en soundly; to 'en, at 'en, at 'en, at [As he is going to strike, GRIPE peeps out, and SCAPIN takes to his heels. Gripe. Oh, dog, traitor, villain! Is this your plot? Would you have murdered me, rogue? Unheard of impudence! Enter THRIFTY. Oh, brother Thrifty! You come to see me loaden with disgrace; the villain Scapin has, as I am sensible now, cheated me of 2001. This beating brings all into my memory. Thrifty. The impudent varlet has gulled me of the same sum. Gripe. Nor was he content to take my money, but has abused me at that barbarous rate, that I am ashamed to tell it; but he shall pay for it severely. Thrifty. But this is not all, brother; one misfortune is the forerunner of another: Just now I have received letters from London, that both our daughters have run away from their governesses, with two wild debauched young fellows, that they fell in love with. Enter LUCIA and CLARA. Luc. Was ever so malicious impudence seen? Ha! Surely, if I mistake not, that should be my father. Cla. And the other mine, whom Scapin has used thus. Luc. Bless us! Returned, and we not know of it? Cla. What will they say to find us here? blushing; but when we were a-bed, Lord ha' mercy upon us!--but I'll no more. Lean. Is, then, my father reconciled to me? Gripe. Reconciled to thee! Why, I love thee at my heart, man, at my heart; why, 'tis my bro Luc. My dearest father, welcome to England.ther Thrifty's daughter, Mrs Lucy, whom I al Thrifty. My daughter Luce? Luc. The same, sir. Gripe. My Clara here, too? Cla. Yes, sir; and happy to see your safe arrival. Thrifty. What strange destiny has directed this happiness to us? Enter OCTAVIAN. Gripe. Hey-day! Thrifty. Oh, so! I have a wife for you. Oct. Good father, all your propositions are vain; I must needs be free, and tell you I am engaged. Thrifty. Look you now is not this very fine? Now I have a mind to be merry, and to be friends with you, you'll not let me now, will you? I tell you, Mr Gripe's daughter, here Oct. I'll never marry Mr Gripe's daughter, sir, as long as I live: No, yonder's she that I must love, and can never entertain the thoughts of any other. Cla. Yes, Octavian, I have at last met with my father, and all our fears and troubles are at an end. Thrifty. Lo ye now, you would be wiser than the father that begot you, would you? Did not I always say you should marry Mr Gripe's daughter? But you do not know your sister Luce. Oct. Unlooked for blessing! Why, she's my friend Leander's wife? Thrifty. How? Leander's wife! Gripe. Indeed! Well, brother Thrifty, 'tis true the boy was always a good-natured boy.Well, now I am so overjoyed, that I could laugh till I shook my shoulders, but that I dare not, they are so sore. But look, here he comes. Enter LEANDer. Lean. Sir, I beg your pardon; I find my marriage is discovered; nor would I, indeed, have longer concealed it; this is my wife, I must own ber. Gripe. Brother Thrifty, did you ever see the like? did you ever see the like? ha! Thrifty. Own her, quotha! Why, kiss her, kiss her, man; odsbodikins, when I was a young felJow, and was first married, I did nothing else for three months. O my conscience, I got my boy Octi, there, the first night, before the curtains were quite drawn! Gripe. Welt, 'tis his father's nown child. Just so, brother, was it with me upon my weddingday; I could not look upon my dear without ways designed for thy wife; and that's thy sister Clara, married to Mr Octa, there. Lean. Octavian, are we then brothers? There is nothing that I could have rather wished, after compleating of my happiness with my charming Lucia. Thrifty. Come, sir, hang up your compliments in the hall at home; they are old, and out of fashion. Shift, go to the inn, and bespeak a supper may cost more money than I have got to pay for it, for I am resolved to run in debt tonight. Shift. I shall obey your commands, sir. Thrifty. Then, d've hear, send out and muster up all the fiddlers, blind or not blind, drunk or sober, in the town; let not so much as the roaster of tunes, with his cracked cymbal in a case, escape you. Gripe. Well, what would I give now for the fellow that sings the song at my lord mayor's feast: I myself would make an epithalamium by way of sonnet, and he should set a tune to it; it was the prettiest he had last time. Enter SCAPIN between two, his head wrapt up in linen, as if he had been wounded. Sca. Oh me! Oh me! Gentlemen, you see me, you see me in a sad condition, cut off like a flower in the prime of my years; but yet I could not die, without the pardon of those I have wronged; yes, gentlemen, I beseech you to forgive me all the injuries that I have done; but more especially I beg of you, Mr Thrify, and my good master, Mr Gripe. Thrifty. For my part, I pardon thee freely; go, and die in peace. Sca. But 'tis you, sir, I have most offended, by the inhuman bastinadoes which Gripe. Prithee, speak no more of it; I forgive thee, too. Sca. 'Twas a most wicked insolence in me, that I should, with vile crabtree, cudgel Gripe. Pish! no more; I say I am satisfied. Sca. And now so near my death, 'tis an inexpressible grief that I should dare to lift my hand against Gripe. Hold thy peace, or die quickly; I tell thee I have forgot all Sca. Alas! How good a man you are! But, sir, d'ye pardon me freely, and from the bottom of your heart, those merciless drubs thatGripe. Prithee, speak no more of it; I forgive thee freely; here's my hand upon't. Sca. Oh, sir, how much your goodness revives me! [Pulls off his cap. Gripe. How's that! Friend, take notice, I pardon thee; but 'tis upon condition, that you are sure to die. Sca. Oh me! I begin to faint again. Thrifty. Come, fie, brother! never let revenge employ your thoughts now; forgive him, forgive him without any condition. Gripe. A deuce on't, brother! as I hope to be saved, he beat me basely and scurvily, never stir he did: but, since you will have it so, I do forgive him. Thrifty. Now, then, let's to supper, and in our mirth drown and forget all troubles. Sca. Ay, and let them carry me to the lower end of the table; Where, in my chair of state, I'll sit at ease, And eat and drink, that I may die in peace. [A dance.] [Exeunt omnes SCENE I. ACT I. Enter ERASTUS and his man, with LISETTA, MARIAMNE'S maid. Lis. ONCE more I tell ye, sir, if you have any consideration in the world for her, you must be gone this minute. Era. My dear Lisetta, let me but speak to her; let me but see her only! Lis. You may do what you will; but not here, whilst you are in our house. I do believe she's as impatient to see you, as you can be to see her; but Era. But why won't you give us that satisfaction, then? Lis. Because I know the consequence; for, when you once get together, the devil himself is not able to part ye; you will stay so long till you are surprised, and what will become of us, then? Ser. Why, then we shall be thrown out at the window, I suppose? Lis. No; but I shall be turned out of doors. Era. How unfortunate am I! these doors are open to all the world, and only shut to me. Lis. Because you come for a wife, and at our house we do not care for people that come for wives. Ser. What would you have us come for, child? Lis. Any thing but wives; because they cannot be put off without portions. Ser. Portions! No, no; never talk of portions; my master nor I don't want portions; and, if he'd follow my advice, a regiment of fathers | gent to a miracle; and her favour, if well mashould not guard her. Lis. What say you? Ser. Why, if you'll contrive that my master may run away with your mistress, I don't much care, faith, if I run away with you. Lis. Don't you so, rogue's face? But I hope to be better provided for. Era. Hold your tongues. But where is Mariamne's brother? He is my bosom friend, and would be willing to serve me. naged, may turn to our advantage; and, could I prevail upon myself to declare my passion to her, I don't doubt but she'd join in our interest. Era. Well, since we've nothing to fear from her, and your brother, you know, is my intimate friend; you may, therefore, conceal me somewhere about the house for a few days. I'll creep into any hole. Ser. Ay; but who must have the care of bringing us victuals? [Aside. Era. Thrust us into the cellar, or up into the garret: I don't care where it is, so that it be but under the same roof with you. Lis. I told you before, that he has been abroad a hunting, and we have not seen him these three days; he seldom lives at home, to avoid his father's ill humour; so that it is not your mistress only that our old covetous cuff teizes-there's no body in the family but feels the effects of his ill humour-by his good will he would not suffer a creature to come within his doors, or eat at his table and, if there be but a rabbit extra-hole we got in at. ordinary for dinner, he thinks himself ruined for ever. Era. Then, I find you pass your time vastly comfortably in this family! Lis. Not so bad as you imagine, neither, perhaps; for, thank Heaven, we have a mistress that's as bountiful as he is stingy, one that will let him say what he will, and yet does what she will. But hark! here's some body coming: it is certainly he. Era. Can't you hide us somewhere? can. Ser. Thrust me in, too. [Puts them into the closet. Enter MARIAMNE. Lis. O is it you? Mar. So, Lisetta, where have you been? I've been looking for ye all over the house: Who are those people in the garden with my mother-inlaw? I believe my father won't be very well pleased to see them there. Ser. But I don't say so, for that jade Lisetta will have the feeding of us, and I know what kind of diet she keeps I believe we shan't be like the fox in the fable; our bellies won't be so full but we shall be able to creep out at the same Era. Must I then be gone? Must I return to Paris? Enter LISETTA. Lis. Yes; that you must, and immediately, too, for here's my master coming in upon ye. Era. What shall I do! Lis. Begone this minute. Mar. Stay in the village 'till you hear from me; none of our family know that you are in it. Era. Shall I see you sometimes? Mar. I have not time to answer you now. Lis. Begone, I say; is the devil in you? [Thrusting ERASTUS and his servant out. Come this way, your father's just stepping in upon us. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter MR BARNARD beating COLIN. Mr Barn. Rogue! rascal! did not I command you? Did not I give you my orders, sirrah? Col. Why, you gave me orders to let no body [Calls.in? and madam, her gives me orders to let every body in-why, the devil himself can't please you boath, I think. Lis. And here's somebody else not far off, that, I believe, your father won't be very well pleased with, neither. Come, sir, sir! [ERASTUS, and his Servant, come out. Mar. O Heavens ! [Cries out. Lis. Come, lovers, I can allow you but a short bout on't this time; you must do your work with a jirk- -one whisper, two sighs, and a kiss; make haste, I say, and I'll stand centry for ye in the mean time. [Exit LIs. Mar. Do you know what you expose me to, Erastus? What do you mean? Era. To die, madam! since you receive me with so little pleasure. Mar. Consider what would become of me, if my father should see you here. Era. What would you have me do? Mar. Expect with patience some happy turn of affairs; my mother-in-law is kind and indul Mr Barn. But, sirrah, you must obey my orders, not hers. Col. Why, the gentlefolks asked for her; they did not ask for you--what do you make such a noise about? Mr Barn. For that reason, sirrah, you should not have let them in. Col. Hold, sir; I'd rather see you angry than her, that's true; for when you're angry, you have only the devil in ye, but when madam's in a passion, she has the devil and his dam both. Mr Barn. You must mind what I say to you, sirrah, and obey my orders. Col. Ay, ay, measter; but let's not quarrel |