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with one another—you're always in such a plaguy | for, in earnest-Very well; and, pray, how did humour.

madam receive all this fine company? With a Mr Barn. What are these people that are just hearty welcome, and a courtsy down to the come?

ground, ha? Col. Nay, that know not I; but as fine volk Lis. No, indeed, sir; she was very angry with they are as ever eye beheld, Heaven bless them! them. Mr Burn. Did you hear their names ?

Mr Barn. How! Angry with them, say you? Col. Noa, noa; but in a coach they keam all Lis. Yes, indeed, sir; for she expected they besmeared with gould, with six breave horses, would have staid here a fortnight, but it seems the like on them ne'er did I set eyes on-- -'twould things happen so unluckily, that they can't stay do a man's heart good to look on sike fine beast, here above ten days. measter.

Mr Barn. Ten days! how ! what! four perMr Barn. How many persons are there? sons with a coach and six, and a kennel of hun

Col. Vour; two as fine men as ever woman gry hounds in liveries, to live upon me ten days ! bore, and two as dainty deames as a man would

(Erit Lisetta. desire to lay his lips to. Mr Barn. And all this crew sets up at my

Enter a Soldier. house?

So! what do you want? Col. Noa, noa, measter; the coachman is gone Sol. Sir, I'come from your nephew, captain into the village to set up bis coach at some inn, Hungry. for I told him our coach-house was full of vag- Mr Barn. Well, what does he want? gots; but he'll bring back the six horses, for I Sol. He gives his service to you, sir, and sends told him we had a rear good steable.

you word that he'll come and dine with you toMr Barn. Did you so, rascal? Did you so?

[Beats him. Mr Barn. Dine with me! No, no, friend; Col. Doant, doant, sir ; it would do you good tell him I don't dine at all, to-morrow; it is my to see sike cattle, i'faith; they look as if they had fast day; my wife died on't. ne'er kept Lent.

Sol. And he has sent you here a pheasant and Mr Barn. Then they shall learn religion at couple of partridges. my house—Sirrah, do you take care they sup Mr Barn. How's that? a pheasant and parwithout oats to-night-What will become of me? tridges, say you? Let's see ; very fine birds, truSince I bought this damned country-house, Ily: let me consider-to-morrow is not my fast spend more in a summer than would maintain me day; I mistook; tell my nephew he shall be welseven years.

come-And, d’ye hear?-( To Colin ]-Do you Col. Why, if you do spend money, han't you take these fowl and hang them up in a cool place good things for it? Come they not to see you the -and take this soldier in, and make him drink, whole country raund? Mind how you're beloved, nake him drink, d’ye see-a cup-ay, a cup of measter.

small beer-d'ye hear? Mr Barn. Pox take such love !-How now, Col. Yes, sir; come along; our small beer is what do you want?

reare good.

Sol. But, sir, he bade me tell you, that he'll Enter LiseTTA.

bring two or three of his brother officers along Lis. Sir, there's some company in the garden with him. with my mistress, who desire to see you.

Mr Barn. How's that! Officers with him ! Jr Barn. The devil take them !' What busi- Here, come back--take the fowls again : I don't ness have they here? But who are they? dine to-morrow, and so tell him--[Gives him the

Lis. Why, sir, there's the fat abbot that al- basket.}--Go, go! ways sits so long at dinner, and drinks his two

[Thrusts him out. bottles by way of whet.

Sol. Sir, sir, that won't hinder them from coJlr Barn. I wish his church was in his belly, ming; for they retired a little distance off the that his guts might be half full before he came canp, and because your house is near them, sir, And who else?

they resolve to come. Lis. Then there's the young marquis, that won Mr Barn. Go; begone, sirrah !--[Thrusts all my lady's money at cards.

him out.]-- There's a rogue, now, that sends me Mr Barn. Pox take him too!

three lean carrion birds, and brings half a dozen Lis. Then there's the merry lady that's always varlets to eat them! in a good huinour. Mr Barn. Very well.

Enter MR GRIFFARD. Lis. Then there's she that threw down all my Grif. Brother, what is the meaning of these lady's china t'other day, and laughed at it for a doings? If you don't order your affairs better, jest.

you'll have your towls taken out of your very Mr Barn. Which I paid above fifty pounds yard, and carried away before your face. VOL III.


Mr Barn. Can I help it, brother? But what's Mar. You must know, Mr Barnard, I'm come the matter now?

on purpose to drink a bottle with you. Grif. There's a parcel of fellows have been Mr Barn. That may be, sir; but it happens hunting about your grounds all this morning, that at this time I am not at all dry. broke down your hedges, and are now coming Mar. I left the ladies at cards waiting for into your house--Don't you hear them? supper; for my part I never play; so I came to

Mr Barn. No, no, I don't hear them : who are see my dear Mr Barnard ! and, I'll assure you, I they?

undertook this journey only to have the honour Grif. Three or four rake-helly officers, with of your acquaintance. your nephew at the head of them.

Mr Barn. You might have spared yourself Mr Barn. O the rogue! He might well send that trouble, sir. me fowls---but is it not a vexatious thing, that I Mar. Don't you know, Mr Barnard, that this must stand still and see myself plundered at this house of yours is a little Paradise? rate, and have a carrion of a wife who thinks I Mr Barn. Then rot me if it be, sir! ought to thank all these rogues that come to de- Mar. For my part, I think a pretty retreat in your me! But can't you advise me what's to be the country is one of the greatest comforts in done in this case?

life-I suppose you never want good company, Grif. I wish I could; for it goes to my heart Mr Barnard ? to see you thus treated by a crew of vermin, who Mr Barn. No, sir, I never want company; for think they do you a great deal of honour in ruin- you must know I love very much to be alone. ing of you.

Mar. Good wine you must keep, above all °Mr Barn. Can there be no way found to re- things—without good wine and good cheer, I dress this?

would not give a tig for the country. Grif. If I were you, I'd leave this house quite, Mr Barn. Really, sir, my wine is the worst and go to town.

you ever drank in your life, and you'll find my Mr Barn. What, and leave my wife behind cheer but very indifferent. me? Ay, that would be mending the matter, in- Mar. No matter, no matter, Mr Barnard. I've deed!

heard much of your hospitality; there's a plentiful Grif. Why don't you sell it, then?

table in your looks—and your wife is certainly Mr Barn. Because nobody will buy it; it has one of the best women in the world. got as bad a name as if the plague were in't; it Mr Barn. Rot me if she be, sir ! has been sold over and over; and every family that has lived in it has been ruined.

Enter COLIN. Grif. Then sead away all your beds and fur- Col. Sir, sir! yonder's the baron de Messey niture, except what is absolutely necessary for has lost his hawk in our garden; he says it is your own family; you'll save something by that, perched upon one of the trees; may we let him for then your guests can't stay with you all night, have'n again, sir? however.

Mr Barn. Go tell him, thatMr Barn. I've tried that already, and it sig- Col. Nay, you may tell him yourself, for here nified nothing--For they all got drunk, aud he comes. lay in the barn, and next morning laughed it off for a frolic.

Enter the BARON DE Messy. Grif. Then there is but one remedy left that Sir, I'm your most humble servant, and ask you I can think of

a thousand pardons, that I should live so long in Mr Barn. What's that?

your neighbourhood, and come upon such an ocGrif. You must c'en do what's done when a casion as this, to pay you my first respects. town's on fire; blow up your house, that the mis- Mr Barn. It is very well, sir; but, I think chief may run no farther-But who is this gen- people may be very good neighbours, without vitleman?

siting one another." Mr Barn. I never saw him in my life before ; Baron. Pray, how do you like our country? but, for all that, I'll hold fifty pound he comes to Mr Barn. Not at all; I'm quite tired on't. dine with me.

Mar. Is it not the Baron? (Aside.] It is cer

tainly be. Enter the MARQUIS.

Baron. How ! my dear marquis ! let me emMur. My dear Mr Barnard, I'ın your most brace you. humble servant !

Mar. My dear baron, let me kiss you! Mr Barn. I don't doubt it, sir.

[They run, and embrace, Mar. What is the meaning of this, Mr Bar- Baron. We have not seen one another since nard? You look as coldly upon me as if I were we were school-fellows, before ! a stranger.

Mar. The happiest rencontre ! Mr Barn. Why truly, sir, I'm very apt to do Grif. These gentlemen seem to be very well so by persons I never saw in iny life before.


Mr Barn. Yes; but I know neither one nor | I'm your most humble servant: Since you will t'other of them.

have it so, I'll return as soon as possible. Alar. Baron, let me present to you one of the

Mr Barn. I have it so ! 'Sbud, sir! you may best-natured men in the world! Mr Barnard here, stay as long as ye please : I'm in no haste for ye. the flower of hospitality II congratulate you

[Ereunt Baron and Marquis. upon having so good a neighbour.

Madam, you are the cause that I am not masDr Barn. Sir!

ter of my own house. Baron. It is an advantage I am proud of. Mrs Burn. Will you never learn to be reasonMir Barn. Sir!

able, husband? Blar. Come, gentlemen, you must be very intimate. Let me have the honour of bringing you

The MARQUIS returns. better acquainted.

Mar. The baron is the best humoured man in Ur Barn. Sir!

the world; only a little too ceremonious, that's all Baron. Dear marquis, I shall take it as a fa- - I love to be free and generous—Since I came vour, if you'll do me that honour.

to Paris, I've reformed half the court. Dr Burn. Sir!

Mrs Barn. You are of the most agreeable huMar. With all my heart-Come, baron, now mour in the world, marquis. you are here, we can make up the must agrec

Mar. Always merry

-But what have you able company in the world— Faith! you shall done with the ladies? stay and pass a few days with us.

Mrs Barn. I left them at cards. Mr Barn. Methinks, now, this son of a whore Mar. Well, I'll wait upon them—but, madam, does the honours of my house to a miracle ! let me desire you not to put yourself to any ex

Baron. I don't know what to say, but I should traordinary expence upon our accounts You be very glad you'd excuse me.

must consider we have more than one day to live Mar. Faith, I can't!

together. Baron. Dear marquis !

Mrs Barn. You are pleased to be merry, marJar. Egad, I won't !

quis. Baron. Well, since it must be so— But here Mur. Treat us without ceremony; good wine comes the lady of the family,

and poultry you have of your own; wild fowl

and fish are brought to your door.--You need Enter Mrs BARNARD.

not send abroad for any thing but a piece of buts, Dlar. Madam, let me present you to the flower cher's meat, or so- Let us have no extraordiof France.


[Erit. Baron. Madam, I shall think myself the hap- Mr Barn. If I had the feeding of you, a thunpiest person in the world in your ladyship's ac- der-bolt should be your supper! quaintance; and the little estate I have in this Mrs Barn. Husband, will you never change country, I esteem more than all the rest, because your humour? If you go on at this rate, it will it lies so near your ladyship.

be impossible to live with ye, Mr Barn. Sir, your most bumble servant. Mr Barn. Very true; for, in a little time, I

Mar. Madam, the baron de Messy is the best shall have nothing to live upon! humoured man in the world. I've prevailed with Mrs Barn. Do you know what a ridiculous fihim to give us his company a few days.

Mrs Barn. I'm sure you could not oblige Mr Mr Barn. You'll make a great deal worse, Barnard or me more.

when you han't money enough to pay for the Mr Barn. That's a damned lie, I'm sure ! washing of your shifts.

[Aside. Mrs Barn. It seems you married me only to Baron. I'm sorry, madam, I can't accept of the dishonour ine; Ilow horrible is this! honour-for it falls out so unluckily, that I've Mr Barn. I tell ye, you'll ruin me! Do you some ladies at my house, that I can't possibly know how much money you spend in a year? leave.

Mrs Barn. Not I, truly; I don't understand Jlar. No matter, no matter, baron; you have arithmetic. ladies at your house, we have ladies at our house Mr Barn, Arithmetic ! O lud, O lud! Is it so

- let's join companies—Come, let's send for hard to comprehend, that he, who receives but thern intediately—the more the merrier. sixpence, and spends a shilling, must be ruined

Mr Barn. An admirable expedient, truly ! in the end?

Baron. Well, since it must be so, I'll go for Mrs Barn. I never troubled my head with acthem myself.

counts, nor never will: But if ye did but know Mar. Make haste, dear baron; for we shall what ridiculous things the world says of yebe impatient for your return.

Mr Barn. Rot the world !-'Twill say worse Baron. Madam, your most humble servant- of me when I'm in a jail ! But I won't take my leave of you, I shall be Mrs Barn. A very Christian-like saying, truly! back again immediately.--Monsieur Barnard, Mr Barn. Don't tell me of Christian-Ads.

gure you make?

bud! I'll turn Jew; and no body shall eat at my Lis. No, madam; but her coach is broke. table that is not circumcised.

Mr Barn. Then, there's a smith in town may

mend it. Enter LISETTA.

Lis. They say, 'twill require two or three days

to fit it up again. Lis. Madam, there's the duchess of Twang- Mrs Barn. I'm glad on't, with all my heart; dillo just fell down near our door ; her coach was for then I shall enjoy the pleasure of her grace's overturned.

good company. — I'll wait upon her. Mrs Barn. I hope her grace has received no Mr Barn. Very fine doings this! hurt?

[Exeunt severally.


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Maw. But, cousin, mother prays you, that Enter MR BARNARD.

you'd order a little cock-broth for brother Janno

and I, to be got ready as soon as may be. Mr Barn. Heaven be now iny comfort, for Jan. Ay, a-propos, cousin Barnard, that's true; my house is hell! [Starts.] Who's there? what my mother desires, that we may have some cockdo you want? who are you?

broth, to drink two or three times a-day between

meals, for my sister and I are sick folks. Enter Servant, with a portmunteau. Maw. And some young chickens, too, the docSer. Sir, here's your cousin Janno, and cousin tor said, would bring us to our stomachs very Mawkin, come from Paris. Mr Barn. What a plague do they want? Jan. You fib, now, sister; it wau'nt young

chickens, so it wau'nt-it was plump partridges, Enter Janno, leading in Mawkin.

sure, the doctor said so. Jan. Come, sister, come along-0, here's Maw. Ay, so it was, brother.—Come, let's cousin Barnard ! Cousin Barnard, your ser- go in, and see our cousins. vant—Here's my sister Mawkin, and I, are come Jan. Ay, come along, sister-Cousin Barnard, to see you.

don't forget the cock-broth. Maw. Ay, cousin, here's brother Janno and I

[Ereunt Janno and Mawkin. are come from Paris to see you : Pray, how does Mr Barn. What the devil does all this mean cousin Mariamne do?

-Mother, and sister Flip, and little brother Jan. My sister and I wau'nt well at Paris; so Humphrey, and chickens, and partridges, and my father sent us here for two or three weeks to cock-broth, and fire from hell to dress them all! take a little country air. Mr Barn. You could not come to a worse

Enter Colin. place; for this is the worst air in the whole coun- Col. O measter, O measter!—You'll not chide ty.

to-day, as you are usen to do; no marry, will you Maw. Nay; I'm sure my father says it is the not : See, now, what it is to be wiser than one's best. Mr Barn. You father's a fool! I tell


'tis Mr Barn. What would this fool lave? the worst.

Col. Why, thanks, and money to-boot, an folk Jan. Nay, cousin, I fancy your mistaken, were grateful. now; for I begin to find my stomach come to Mr Barn. What's the matter? me already; in a fortnight's time, you shall see Col. Why, the matter is, if you have good store how I'll lay about me.

of company in your house, you have good store Mr Barn. I don't at all doubt it.

of meat to put in their bellies. Maw. Father would have sent sister Flip, and Mr Barn. How so? how so? little brother Humphrey; but the calash would Col. Why, a large and stately stag, with a pair not hold us all : and so they don't come till to- of horns on his head, Heaven bless you! your morrow with mother.

worship might be seen to wear them-comes toJan. Come, sister, let's put up our things in wards our geat, a puffing and blawing like a cow our chamber; and, after you have washed my in hard labour—Now, says I to myself, says I, face, and put me on a clean neckcloth, we'll go if my measter refuse to let this fine youth come in, and see how our cousins do.

in—why, then he's a fool, d'ye see-So I opens Maw. Ay, come along; we'll go and see cou- him the geat, pulls off my hat with both my honds, sin Mariamne.

and said, you're welcome, kind sir, to our house. Jan. Cousin, we shan't give you much trouble ; Mr Barn, Well, well! ove bed will serve us; for sister Mawkin and I Col. Well, well? ay, and so it is well, as you always lie together.

shall straight way find-So in he trots, and makes


directly towards our barn, and goes bounce, all this morning; they're now gone up to your bounce, against the door, as boldly as if he had wife's chamber. been measter on't- -he turns' en about, and Mr Barn. The devil go with them! thawcks'n down in the straw; as who would say, Grif. There's but one way to get rid of this here will I lay me till to-morrow morning- plague, and that is, as I told you before, to set But he had no fool to deal with; for to the kit- your house on fire. chen goes I, and takes me down a musket, and, Mr Barn. That's doing myself an injury, not with a breace of balls, I hits'n such a slap in the them. feace, that he ne'er spoke a word more to me.- Grif. There's dogs, horses, masters and serHave I done well or no, measter?

vants, all intend to stay here 'till to-morrow Mr Barn. Yes, you have done very well for morning, that they may be near the woods to once.

hunt the earlier besides (I over-heard them) Col. But this was not all; for a parcel of dogs they're in a kind of plot against you. came yelping after their companion, as I sup- Mr Barn. What did they say? pose; so I goes to the back yard-door, and as Grif. You'll be more angry if I should tell ye, many as came by, Shu, says I, and drove them in- than I am, to the gearden-So there they are, as safe as Mr Barn. Can I be more angry? in a pawnd-Ha, ha ! -But I can't but think Grif. They said then, that it was the greatest what a power of pasties we shall have at our pleasure in the world to ruin an old lawyer in bouse-Ha, ha!

(Exit Colin. the country, who had got an estate by ruining Mr Barn. I see Providence takes some care honest people in town. of me: this could never have happened in a bet- Mr Barn. There's rogues for ye ! ter time.

Grif. I'm mistaken if they don't play you

some trick or other. Enter Cook.

Mr Barn. Hold, let me consider. Cook. Sir, sir ! in the name of wonder, what do Grif. What are you doing? you mean? is it by your orders that all those Mr Barn. I'm conceiving; I shall bring forth dogs were let into the garden?

presently- -oh, I have it ! it comes from Mr Barn. How !

hence; Wit was its father, and Invention its moCook. I believe there's forty or fifty dogs tear- ther: if I had thonght on't sooner, I should have ing up the lettuce and cabbage by the root. I be been happy. lieve, before they have done, they'll rout up the Grif. What is it? whole garden.

Më Barn. Come, come along, I say; you must Mr Barn. This is that rogue's doings. help me to put it in execution.

Cook. This was not all, sir; for three or four of them came into the kitchen, and tore half the

Enter LISETTA. meat off the spit that was for your worship’s sup- Lis. Sir, my mistress desires you to walk up; per.

she is not able, by herself, to pay the civilities Mr Barn. The very dogs plague me! due to so much good company;

Cook. And then there's a crew of hungry foot- Mr Barn. (the carrion! What, does she men who devoured what the dogs left; so that play her jests upon nie, too!--but mum; he there's not a bit left for your worship's supper, laughs best that laughs last. not a scrap, not one morsel, sir ! [Erit Cook. Lis. What shall I tell her, sir ? will you come?

Mr Barn. Sure I shall hit on some way to Mr Barn. Yes, yes; tell her I'll come with a get rid of this crew!

[E.reunt MR BARNARD and GRIFFARD. Enter Colin.

Lis. Nay, I don't wonder he should be angry

--they do try his patience, that's the truth on't. Col. Sir, sir! here's the devil to do without

Enler MARIAMNE. yonder; a parcel of fellows swear they'll have our venison, and s'blead I swear they shall What, madam, have you left your mother and liave none on't; so stand to your arms,' measter. the company?

Mr Barn. Ay, you've done finely, rogue, ras- Mar. So much tittle tattle makes my head cal, bave you not?

(Beating him. ache; I don't wonder my father should not love Col. 'Sülead, I say they shan't have our veni- the country; for, besides the expence he's at, he son. I'll die before I'll part with it. [Erit. never enjoys a minute's quiet.

Lis. But let's talk of your own affairs-have Enter GRIFFARD.

you writ to your lover?

Mar. No, for I have not had time since I saw Grif. Brother, there's some gentlemen within him. ask for you

Lis. Now you have time, then, about it imMr Barn. What gentlemen! Who are they? mediately, for he's a sort of a desperate spark, Grif. The gentlemen that have been hunting and a body does not know what lie may do, if he

pox to her!

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