should not hear from you; besides, you promised him, and you must behave yourself like a woman of honour, and keep your word. Mar. I'll about it this minute. Enter CHARLY. Char. Cousin, cousin, cousin! where are you going? Come back, I have something to say to you. Lis. What does this troublesome boy want? Char. What's that to you what I want? perhaps I have something to say to her that will make her laugh—why sure! what need you care? Mar. Don't snub my cousin Charly—well, what is it? Char. Who do you think I met, as I was coming here, but that handsome gentleman I've seen at church ogle you like any devil! Mar. Hush! softly, cousin. Lis. Not a word of that for your life. Char. O, I know I should not speak on't before folks; you know I made signs to you above, that I wanted to speak to you in private, didn't I, cousin? Mar. Yes, yes; I saw you. Char. You see I can keep a secret-I am no girl, mun- -I believe I could tell ye fifty, and fifty to that of my sister Cicely—O she's the devil of a girl!--but she gives me money and sugar-plumbs-and those that are kind to me fare the better for it, you see, cousin. Mar. I always said my cousin Charly was a good-natured boy. Lis. Well, and did he know you? Char. Yes, I think he did know me—for he took me in his arms, and did so hug me and kiss me-between you and I, cousin, I believe he is one of the best friends I have in the world. a Mar. Well, but what did he say to you? Char. Why, he asked me where I was goingI told him I was coming to see you-you're lying young rogue, says he, I'm sure you dare not go see your cousin-for, you must know my sister was with me, and it seems he took her for a crack, and I being a forward boy, he fancied I was going to make love to her under a hedge, ha, ha! Mar. So Char. So he offered to lay me a louis d'or that I was not coming to you; so, done, says I Done, says he and so 'twas a bett, you know. Mar. Certainly. Char. Why, then he paid me the louis d'or, that's all. Mar. Why, that was honestly done. Char. No, for he had a mind, you must know, to win his louis d'or back again; so he laid me another, that I dare not come back, and tell you that he was there-so, cousin, I hope you won't let me lose, for if you don't go to him, and tell him that I've won, he won't pay me. Mar. What, would you have me go and speak to a man? Char. Not for any harm, but to win your poor cousin a louis d'or. I'm sure you will-for you're a modest young woman, and may go with out danger. I'll swear you must. Mar. What does the young rogue mean? I swear I'll have you whipt. [Exeunt CHARLY and MARIAMNE. Char. So, my sister's honour being concerned, and having a mind to win his louis d'or, d'ye see -I bid him follow me, that he might see whether I came in or no-but he said he'd wait for me atlain-ha, ha! the little garden gate that opens into the fields, and if I would come through the house and meet him there, he should know by that whether I had been in or no. Enter DORANT. Mr Barn. What's the matter, son? How comes it that you are alone? You used to do me the Enter three Gentlemen. favour to bring some of your friends along with ye. Dor. Sir, there are some of them coming; I only rid before, to beg you to give them a favourable reception. Mr Barn. Ay, why not? It is both for your honour and mine; you shall be master. Dor. Sir, we have now an opportunity of making all the gentlemen in the country our friends. Mr Barn. I am glad on't with all my heart; pray, how so? Dor. There's an old quarrel to be made up between two families, and all the company are to meet at our house. Mr Barn. Ay, with all my heart; but, pray, what is the quarrel? Dor. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Pastyhall; see that these gentlemen's horses are taken care of. 1 Gen. A very fine dwelling this. Dor. Yes, the house is tolerable. 2 Gen. And a very fine lordship belongs to it. Dor. The land is good. 2 Gen. The house ought to have been mine; for my grandfather sold it to his father, from whom your father purchased it. Dor. Yes, the house has gone through a great many hands. 1 Gen. A sign there has always been good Dor. O, sir, a very ancient quarrel; it hap-house-keeping in it. pened between their great grandfathers about a duck. Mr Barn. A quarrel of consequence, truly! Dor. Dear sir, you astonish me with this goodness; how shall I express this obligation? I was afraid, sir, you would not like it. Mr Barn. Why so? Dor. I thought, sir, you did not care for the expence. Mr Barn. O, lord, I am the most altered man in the world from what I was; I am quite another thing, mun; but how many are there of them? Dor. Not above nine or ten of a side, sir. Mr Barn. O, we shall dispose of them easily enough. Dor. Some of them will be here presently; the rest I don't expect till to-morrow morning. Mr Barn. I hope they are good companions, jolly fellows, that love to eat and drink well? Dor. The merriest, best-natured, creatures in the world, sir. Mr Barn. I'm very glad on't, for 'tis such men I want. Come, brother, you and I will go and prepare for their reception. [Exeunt MR BARNARD and his brother. Dor. Bless me, what an alteration is here! How my father's temper is changed within these two or three days! Do you know the meaning of it? Col. Why the meaning of it is-ha, ha ! Dor. Can you tell me the cause of this sudden change, I say? Col. Why the cause of it is-ha, ha! Dor. What do you laugh at, sirrah? do you know? Col. Ha! Because the old gentleman is a droll, that's all. Dor. Sirrah, if I take the cudgel. Col. Nay, sir, don't be angry, for a little harmless mirth-But here are your friends. Dor. And I hope there ever will. Enter MR BARNARD, and GRIFFARD, dressed like drawers. Mr Barn. Gentlemen, do you call? will you please to see a room, gentlemen? some body take off the gentlemens' boots there. Dor. Father! Uncle! what is the meaning of this? Mr Barn. Here, shew a room— -or will you please to walk into the kitchen, first, gentlemen; and see what you like for dinner? 1 Gen. Make no preparations, sir; your own dinner is sufficient. Mr Barn. Very well, I understand ye; let us sec, how many are there of ye? [Tells them.]— One, two, three, four: well, gentlemen, 'tis but half a crown-piece for yourselves, and sixpence a head for your servants; your dinner shall be ready in half an hour; here, shew the gentlemen into the Apollo. 2 Gen. What, sir, does your father keep an inn? sir. Mr Barn. The Sword Royal; at your service, Dor. But, father, let me speak to you; would you disgrace me? Mr Barn. My wine is very good, gentlemen ; but, to be very plain with ye, it is dear. Dor. I shall run distracted. Mr Barn. You seem not to like my house, gentlemen; you may try all the inns in the county, and not be better entertained: but I own my bills run high. Dor. Gentlemen, let me beg the favour of ye! 1 Gen. Ay, my young squire of the Sword-Royal, you shall receive some favours from us! Dor. Dear Monsieur le Garantiere ! 1 Gen. Here, my horse there. Dor, Monsieur la Rose! 2 Gen. Damn ye, ye prig! 3 Gen. Go to the devil! [Exeunt Gentlemen. Dor. O, I am disgraced for ever! Mr Barn. Now, son, this will teach you how to live. Dor. Your son? I deny the kindred; I'm the son of a whore, and I'll burn your house about your ears. Mr Barn. Ha, ha [Exit. Grif. The young gentleman is in a passion. Mr Barn. They're all gone for all that, and the Sword-Royal's the best general in Christendom. Enter ERASTUS's Servant talking with LISETTA. Lis. What, that tall gentleman I saw in the garden with ye? Ser. The same; he's my master's uncle, and ranger of the king's forests-He intends to leave my master all he has. Mr Barn. Don't I know this scoundrel? What, is his master here? What do you do here, rascal? Ser. I was asking which must be my master's chamber. Mr Barn. Where is your master? Ser. Above stairs with your wife and daughter; and I want to know where he is to lie, that I may put up his things. -Here, Mr Barn. Do you so, rascal? Ser. A very handsome inn this!drawer, fetch me a pint of wine. Mr Barn. Take that, rascal, do you banter us? [Kicks him out. Enter MRS BARNARD. Mrs Barn. What is the meaning of this, husband? Are not you ashamed to turn your house into an inn? And is this a dress for my spouse, and a man of your character? Mr Barn. I would rather wear this dress than be ruined. Mrs Barn. You are nearer being so than you imagine; for there are some persons within, who have it in their power to punish you for your ri diculous folly. Enter ERASTUS, leading in MARIAMNE. Mr Barn. How, sir, what means this? who sent you here? Era. It was the luckiest star in your firmament, that sent me here. Mr Barn. Then I doubt, at my birth, the planets were but in a scurvy disposition. Era. Killing one of the king's stags, that run hither for refuge, is enough to overturn a fortune much better established than yours-However, sir, if you will consent to give me your daughter, for her sake I will bear you harmless. Mr Barn. No, sir; no man shall have my daughter, that won't take my house, too. Era. Sir, I will take your house; pay you the full value of it, and you shall remain as much master of it as ever. Mr Barn. No, sir; that won't do neither; you must be master yourself, and from this minute begin to do the honours of it in your own person. Era. Sir, I readily consent. Mr Barn. Upon that condition, and in order to get rid of my house, here take my daughterAnd, now, sir, if you think you've a hard bargain, I don't care if I toss you in my wife, to make you amends. SCENE I.-Rovewell's lodgings. ROBIN Solus. ACT I. Rob. WELL, though pimping is the most hoRourable and profitable of all professions, it is certainly the most dangerous and fatiguing; but of all fatigues, there's none like following a virtuous mistress-There's not one letter I carry, but I run the risk of kicking, caneing, or pumping, nay, often hanging-Let me see; I have committed three burglaries to get one letter to herNow, if my master should not get the gipsey at last, I have ventured my sweet person to a fair purpose-But, Basta! here comes my master and his friend Mr Hearty-I must hasten and get our disguises. And if dame Fortune fails us now to win her, Hear. Why so melancholy, captain? Come, come, a man of your gaiety and courage should never take a disappointment so much to heart. Rov. 'Sdeath! to be prevented, when I had brought my design so near perfection! Hear. Were you less open and daring in your attempts, you might hope to succeed―The old gentleman, you know, is cautious to a degree; his daughter under a strict confinement: would you use more of the fox than the lion, Fortune, perhaps, might throw an opportunity in your way— But you must have patience. Rov. Who can have patience when danger is so near? Read this letter, and then tell me what room there is for patience. [HEARTY reads] To-morrow will prevent all our vain struggles to get to each other—I am then to be married to my eternal aversion! you 'know the fop; 'tis Cuckoo, who, having a large estate, is forced upon me-but ny heart can be 6 none but Rovewell's. Immediately after the receipt of this, meet Betty at the old place; there is yet one invention left; if you pursue it D Hear. Well, go thy way, and get her; for thou deserv'st her, o' my conscience-How have I been deceived, in this boy! I find him the very reverse of what his step-mother represented him; and am now sensible it was only her ill-usage that forced my child away-His not having seen me since he was five years old, renders me a perfect stranger to him-Under that pretence I have got into his acquaintance, and find him all I wishIf this plot of his fails, I believe my money must buy him the girl at last. [Exit. SCENE II-A chamber in ARGUS's house. ARETHUSA sola. Are. See! the radiant queen of night Tasteless all things yet appear, In the absence of my dear. Enter ARGUS. Arg. Pray, daughter, what lingo is that same you chant and sputter out at this rate? Are. English, sir. Arg. Why, is not Mr Cuckoo all this? Adod, he's a brisk young fellow, and a little feather-bed doctrine will soon put the captain out of your head; and, to put you out of his power, you shall be given over to the squire to-morrow. Are. Surely, sir, you will at least defer it one day. Arg. No, nor one hour-To-morrow morning, at eight of the clock precisely-In the mean time, take notice, the squire's sister is hourly expected; so, pray do you be civil and sociable with her, and let me have none of your pouts and glouts, as you tender my displeasure. [Exit ARGUS. Are. To-morrow is short warning: but we may be too cunning for you yet, old gentleman. Enter BETTY. O Betty! welcome a thousand times! what news? have you seen the captain? Bet. Yes, madam; and if you were to see him in his new rigging, you'd split your sides with laughing-Such a hoyden, such a piece of coun Arg. English, quotha! adod I took it to be try stuff, you never set your eyes on!-But the nonsense. Are. 'Tis a hymn to the moon. Arg. A hymn to the moon! I'll have none of your hymns in my house-Give me the book, housewife. Are. I hope, sir, there is no crime in reading a harmless poem? Arg. Give me the book, I say? poems, with a pox! what are they good for, but to blow up the fire of love, and make young wenches wanton?But I have taken care of you, mistress! for tomorrow you shall have a husband to stay your petticoats are soon thrown off; and if good luck attends us, you may easily conjure Miss Malkin, the squire's sister, into your own dear captain. Are. But when will they come? Bet. Instantly, madam; he only stays to settle matters for our escape. He's in deep consultation with his privy-counsellor Robin, who is to attend him in the quality of a country put― They'll both be here in a moment; so let's in, and pack up the jewels, that we may be ready at once to leap into the saddle of liberty, and ride full speed to your desires. |