SCENE-I.

Enter WINGATE and SIMON. 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; and if you don't discover all, I'll

Sim. Dear heart, sir, you won't give a body time.

Win. Zookers! a whole month missing, and no account of him, far or near; wounds! 'tis unaccountable- -Look ye, friend, don't you pretend

Sim. Lord, sir! you're so main passionate, you won't let a body speak.

Win. Speak out then, and don't stand muttering: what a lubberly fellow you are! ha, ha!— Why don't you speak out, you blockhead?

Sim. Lord, sir, to be sure, the gentleman is a fine young gentleman, and a sweet young gentle

man-but, lack-a-day, sir! how should I know any thing of him?

Win. Sirrah, I say he could not be 'prentice to your master so long, and you live so long in one house with him, without knowing his haunts, and all his ways; and then, varlet, what brings you here to my house so often?

Sim. My master Gargle and I, sir, are so uneasy about un, that I have been running all over the town since morning, to enquire for un; and so in my way, I thought I might as well call bere

Win. A villain, to give his father all this trouble! and so, you have not heard any thing of him, friend?

Sim. Not a word, sir, as I hope for marcy! though, as sure as you are there, I believe I can guess what's come on un. As sure as any thing, master, the gypsies have gotten held on un, and we shall have un come home, as thin as a rake,

Simon!

Sim. Sir?

-Here, you

Win. Where are you going in such a hurry?Let me see; what must be done?—A ridiculous numskull, with his damned Cassanders and Cloppatras and trumpery; with his romances, and his Odyssey Popes, and a parcel of rascals not worth a groat-wearing stone buckles, and cocking his hat-I never wear stone buckles, never cock my hat. But, zookers! I'll not put myself in a passion. Simon, do you step back to your master, my friend Gargle, and tell him I want to speak with him-though I don't know what I should send for him for—a sly, slow, hesitating blockhead! he'll only plague me with his physical cant and his nonsense-Why don't you go, you booby, when I bid you?

Sim. Yes, sir.

[Exit. Win. This fellow will be the death of me at last; I can't sleep in my bed sometimes for him. An absurd, insignificant rascal-to stand in his own light! Death and fury, that we can't get children, without having a love for them! I have been turmoiling for the fellow all the days of my life, and now the scoundrel's run away-Suppose I advertise the dog, and promise a reward to any one that can give an account of him-well, butwhy should I throw away my money after him? why, as I don't say what reward, I may give what I please when they come-ay, but if the villain should deceive me, and happen to be dead; why, then, he tricks me out of two shillings; ; my money's flung into the fire. Zookers! I'll not put myself in a passion; let him follow his nose; 'tis nothing at all to me; what care I? —What do you come back for, friend?

Re-enter SIMON.

Sim. As I was going out, sir, the post came to the door, and brought this letter.

Win. Let me see it- -The gypsies have got hold of him! ha, ha! what a pretty fellow you are! ha, ha! why don't you step where I bid you, sirrah?

Sim. Yes, sir.

:

[Exit. Win. Well, well- -I'm resolved, and it shall be so I'll advertise him to-morrow morning, and promise, if he comes home, all shall be forgiven and when the blockhead comes, I may do as I please-ha, ha! I may do as I please! Let me see: He had on-a silver-looped hat: I never liked those vile silver-loops-A silver-looped hat; and-and-Slidikins, what signifies what he had on?--I'll read my letter, and think no more about him. Hey! what a plague have we here?

Esteemed friend,

-what's all

Last was 20th ultimo, since none of thine, 'which will occasion brevity. The reason of my writing to thee at present, is to inform thee, that thy son came to our place with a company of strollers, who were taken up by the magistrate, and committed, as vagabonds, to jail.'-Zookers! I'm glad of it-a villain of a fellow! Let him lie there

I am sorry thy lad should follow 'such profane courses; but, out of the esteem I 'bear unto thee, I have taken thy boy out of con'finement, and sent him off for your city in the 'waggon, which left this four days ago. He is 'signed to thy address, being the needful from thy friend and servant,

"EBEENEEZOR BROADBRIM.'

Wounds! what did he take the fellow out for? a scoundrel, rascal! turned stage-player!—I'll never see the villain's face.-Who comes there?

Enter SIMON.

Sim. I met my master on the way, sir—our cares are over: Here he is, sir. Win. Let him come in-and do you go down stairs, you blockhead. [Exit SIMON.

Enter GARGLE. Win. So friend Gargle, here's a fine piece of work-Dick's turned vagabond!

Gar. He must be put under a proper regimen directly, sir: He arrived at my house within these ten minutes, but in such a trim! he's now below stairs; I judged it proper to leave him there, till I had prepared you for his reception.

Win. Death and fire! what could put it into the villain's head to turn buffoon?

Gar. Nothing so easily accounted for: Why, when he ought to be reading the dispensatory, there was he constantly reading over plays and farces, and Shakespeare.

Win. Ay, that damned Shakespeare! I hear the fellow was nothing but a deer-stealer in Warwickshire: Zookers! if they had hanged him out of the way, he would not now be the ruin of honest men's children. But what right had he to read Shakespeare? I never read Shakespeare! Wounds! I caught the rascal, myself, reading that nonsensical play of Hamlet, where the prince is keeping company with strollers and vagabonds: A fine example, Mr Gargle!

Gar. His disorder is of the malignant kind, and my daughter has taken the infection from him-bless my heart! she was as innocent as water-gruel, till he spoilt her. I found her, the other night, in the very fact.

Win. Zookers! you don't say so?—caught her in the fact!

Gar. Ay, in the very fact of reading a playbook in bed.

Win. O, is that the fact you mean? Is that all? though that's 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 Gargle, I'll never see the villain's face: Let him follow his nose, and bite the bridle.

Gar. Lenitives, Mr Wingate, lenitives are properest at present: His habit requires gentle alteratives: but leave him to my management; about twenty ounces of blood, with a cephalic tincture, and he may do very well.

Win. Where is the scoundrel?

Win. 'Sdeath, you're as mad yourself as any of them!

Gar. And continuing to run in the same ducts

Win. Ducks! Damn your ducks!--Who's below there?

Gar. The texture of the brain becomes disordered, and [WINGATE walks about uneasily, and GARGLE follows.]-thus, by the pressure on the nerves, the head is disturbed, and so your son's malady is contracted.

Win. Who's without there?-Don't plague me

so, man.

Gar. But I shall alter the morbid state of the juices, correct his blood, and produce laudable chyle.

Win. Harsh language! Why, do you think, man, I'd call him a scoundrel, if I had not a regard for him? You don't hear me call a stranger a scoundrel?

Gar. Dear sir, he may still do very well; the boy has very good sentiments.

Win. Sentiment! a fig for sentiment! let him get money, and never miss an opportunity-I never missed an opportunity; got up at five in the morning; struck a light; made my own fire; worked my finger's ends; and this vagabond of a fellow is going his own way-with all my heart; what care I let him follow his nose; let him follow his nose-a ridiculous

Gar. Ay, ridiculous, indeed, sir-Why, for a long time past, he could not converse in the language of common sense. Ask him but a trivial question, and he'd give some cramp answer out of some of his plays that had been running in his head, and so there's no understanding a word he

says.

Win. Zookers! this comes of his keeping company with wits, and be damned to them for wits, ha, ha! Wits! a fine thing indeed, ha, ha! 'Tis the most beggarly, rascally, contemptible thing on earth!

Gar. And then, sir, I have found out that he went three times a-week to a spouting-club. Win. A spouting-club, friend Gargle! What's a spouting-club?

Gar. A meeting of 'prentices and clerks, and giddy young men, intoxicated with plays; and so they meet in public-houses to act speeches; there they all neglect business, despise the advice of their friends, and think of nothing but to become

up.

Gar. Dear sir, be a little cool-Inflammatories may be dangerous. Do, pray, sir, moderate your passions.

Win. Prithee, be quiet, man-I'll try what I can do-Here he comes.

Enter DICK.

Dick. Now, my good father, what's 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 passion : But, death and fire, you scoundrel, what right have you to plague me in this manner? Do you think I must fall in love with your face, because I am your father?

Dick. A little more than kin, and less than kind.

Win. Ha, ha! what a pretty figure you cut now! ha, ha!--why don't you speak, you blockhead? Have you nothing to say for yourself?,

Dick. Nothing to say for yourself!—What an old prig it is!

Wan. Mind me, friend-I have found you out; I see you'll never come to good. Turn stageplayer! Wounds! you'll not have an eye in your head in a month, ha, ha! you'll have them knocked out of the sockets with withered apples; remember I tell you so.

Dick. A critic too! [Whistles.] Well done, old Square-toes!

Win. Look ye, young man ; take notice of what I say: I made my own fortune, and I could do the same again. Wounds! if I were placed at the bottom of Chancery-lanc, with a brush and black-ball, I'd make my own fortune again-you read Shakespeare !-Get Cocker's Arithmetic; you may buy it for a shilling on any stall-best book that ever was wrote.

Dick. Pretty well, that; ingenious, faith

Egad, the old fellow has a pretty notion of let ters!

Win. Can you tell how much is five-eighths of three-sixteenths of a pound? Five-eighths of three sixteenths of a pound. Ay, ay, I see you're a blockhead; look ye, young man, if you have a mind to thrive in this world, study figures, and make yourself useful; make yourself useful.

Dick. How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, seem to me all the uses of this world!

Win. Mind the scoundrel now

Gar. Do, Mr Wingate, let me speak to himsoftly, softly; I'll touch him gently: Come, come, young man, lay aside this sulky humour, and speak as becomes a son.

Dick. O Jeptha, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!

Win. What does the fellow say? Gar. He relents, sir. Come, come, young man, he'll forgive—

Dick. They fool me to the top of my bent Gad, I'll hum 'em to get rid of 'em-a truant disposition, good my lord--No, no, stay, that's not right, I have a better speech--It is as you say; when we are sober, and reflect but ever so little on our follies, we are ashamed and sorry ; and yet, the very next minute, we rush again into the very same absurdities.

Win. Well said, lad, well said! mind me, friend: Commanding our own passions, and artfully taking advantage of other peoples, is the sure road to wealth: Death and fire! but I won't put myself in a passion: 'Tis my regard for you makes me speak; and if I tell you you're a scoundrel, 'tis for your good.

Dick. Without doubt, sir. [Stifling a laugh, Win. If you want any thing, you shall be provided: have you any money in your pocket? ha, ha! what a ridiculous numskull you are now! ha, ha! Come, here's some money for you-[Pulls out his money, and looks at it.] I'll give it to you another time; and so you'll mind what I say to you, and make yourself useful for the future.

Dick. Else, wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?

Win. Zookers! you blockhead, you'd better stick to your business, than turn buffoon, and get truncheons broke upon your arm, and be tumbling upon carpets.

Dick. I shall in all my best obey you, sir. Win. Very well, friend; very well said----you may do very well if you please; and so I'll say no more to you, but make yourself useful; and so now, go and clean yourself, and make ready to go home to your business; and mind me, young man, let me see no more play-books, and let me never find that you wear a laced waistcoat-you scoundrel, what right have you to wear a laced waistcoat? I never wore a laced waistcoat; never wore one till I was forty. But I'll not put

VOL. III.

myself in a passion: Go and change your dress, friend.

Dick. I shall, sir

I must be cruel, only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, but worse remains behind.
Cocker's Arithmetic, sir?

Win. Ay, Cocker's Arithmetic. Study figures, and they'll carry you through the world. Dick. Yes, sir. [Stifling a laugh.] Cocker's Arithmetic ! [Erit DICK. Win. Let him mind me, friend Gargle, and I'll make a man of him.

Gar. Ay, sir, you know the world. The young man will do very well. I wish he were out of his time; he shall then have my daughter.

Win. Yes, but I'll touch the cash-he shan't finger it during my life. I must keep a tight hand over him. [Goes to the door.] Do ye hear, friend? Mind what I say, and go home to your business immediately. Friend Gargle, I'll make

a man of him

Enter DICK.

Dick. Who called on Achmet? Did not Barbarossa require me here?

Win. What's the matter now?- Barossa! Wounds! What's Barossa? Does the fellow call me names? What makes the blockhead stand in such confusion?

Dick. That Barbarossa should suspect my truth!

Win. The fellow's stark staring mad! Get out of the room! you villain, get out of the room ! [DICK stands in a sullen mood.

Gar. Come, come, young man, every thing is easy; don't spoil all again. Go and change your dress, and come home to your business---nay, nay, be ruled by me. [Thrusts him off.

Win. I'm very peremptory, friend Gargle; if he vexes me once more, I'll have nothing to say to him. Well, but now I think of it, I have Cocker's arithmetic below stairs in the countinghouse; I'll step and get it for him, and so he shall take it home with him. Friend Gargle, your servant.

Gar. Mr Wingate, a good evening to you; you'll send him home to his business.

Win. He shall follow you home directly Fiveeighths of three-sixteenths of a pound! Multiply the numerator by the denominator; five times sixteen is ten times eight, ten times eight is eighty, and a-a-carry one. [Exit.

Enter DICK and SIMON.

Sim. Lord love ye, master-I'ın so glad you're come back-Come, we had as good e'en gang home to my master Gargle'sZ